I am pleased for many reasons. Astaria has chosen me. There is no doubt that she has dedicated herself to me the same way I have dedicated myself to her. We are a match made in the stars, however fundamentally unlikely. We have not explicitly spoken of this bond, but I think we both feel it.
With her choice to be on my ship comes a change in attitude to all my men. She has been back for twenty-four hours without killing anybody. It’s very impressive. I wouldn’t have thought it possible.
“Astaria.”
“Yes?”
“We need to speak about your plans for the faye.”
“Yes?”
“If you want my warriors to fight for you, you need to make them believe in you. They know on whose account we undertake this mission, if we take it on at all. You still owe an apology to Redpelt and to my men.”
She nods, solemnly. If I know one thing about Astaria, it is that she does not shirk her responsibilities. If anything, she gathers them at an astonishing rate.
“It is time to make a public showing,” I say. “To those you have wronged and tormented. And to put yourself at their mercy.”
“And yours,” she murmurs.
I have gathered my men. All of them. A sea of many thousands greets Astaria in what was the dining hall and has now become a stadium of righteous contrition. My men are largely silent. The princess has not earned any favor among my crew. Her acts and her displays have made her an enemy actor as far as many of them are concerned. I stand before them all with Astaria. I am not the only one on the dais. Redpelt is here too, his rank and reputation making him a powerful figure of great influence.
“I owe you all… I cannot say apology, because there is no apology that would cover any of it. I have been worse than a barbarian. I have been a creeping snake in your midst. I will not ask for your forgiveness. I do not deserve it. I ask only for a chance to prove myself changed.”
“Eloquent,” Redpelt murmurs. “I don’t buy it. I want her thrashed. And leashed.”
“I’m also not a fan,” Bluebrow says. “I haven’t been around much, but take it as read, I am generally displeased.”
“I will submit to whatever is required to get my people home,” Astaria says.
She is quite determined, but it is easier to speak words of regret and submission than it is to act upon them. Or in her case, have them acted on her hide.
“She is a spoiled human princess,” I announce. “One I believed would bring us great ransom. But as you are all aware, she is worth no ransom at all. Her father will not pay the debt.”
“Kill her!”
The cry is taken up across the gathering.
A lesser woman might curl up and cry, begging for mercy. Astaria looks faintly annoyed, which I am not sure helps the situation at all.
“Killing her gains us nothing,” I say when the shouting for her death subsides a little. “It might send a message to the few who know of the story, but the king remains in power and the entire situation remains unsatisfyingly unprofitable. Her treachery, her cruelty, her bloodlust, which might be explained as the reasonable actions of a prisoner. Yes, she has caused losses. Yes, she has attempted to attack the highest among us. Yes, she has shown a complete lack of respect for any life on this ship. But any one of you, snatched from your beds and taken aboard a hostile ship might have acted the same. You would have bled and killed until you were free.”
There is an uncomfortable group grumble. They do not disagree. But they are also still very unsatisfied.
“You will see her punished today,” I assure them. “You will hear her wails, and you will witness her subjugation. But more than that, you will begin preparations for an all-out battle with the one who spawned her. Arthas will not escape with his crown. We will lay waste to his kingdom, and in its place, we will put the wretched souls you have seen about these halls. We will have our fill of blood and riches, and we will right a few wrongs at the same time!”
A cheer goes up, thankfully. The crew likes what I had to say, and though they might still harbor resentment for Astaria, the prospect of rough battle cheers them.
“Before any of this, you will see Astaria atone for her sins!”
Astaria stands beside me, delivering herself to the crowd. She is wearing the finest gown, which she must surely know will be torn from her. If I did not know better, I would think she had chosen it especially for the pageantry. She intends to make this look good.
“Hi! Really sorry about all the stabbings,” she says. “You’re just all really stabbable.”