The man tipped his hat, which was non-existent, as a show of respect. " Kent Alfhard of Hestanar Town, the location in which this vessel is docked."
The Lord directed his question once more to the old lady. "Are you Lady Giselle?"
"Yes, I am," the captain replied.
"Sorry to intrude."
The captain took one last look towards the ocean, sitting behind her deck, fingers tapping with a rhythmic pattern.
"What brings the Lord of Hestanar to the insides of The Fair Lady?"
The lord looked her up and down "I seek to talk."
Giselle clicked her tongue as she grabbed a bottle of wine left over on her desk, chucking it in her mouth for a big gulp. "Right, Lord Alfhard, for what it's worth I'm an old woman, I haven't had the privilege of waking up every morning with no duties to attend to since I was sixteen, so I could certainly do with a bit of peace and quiet."
The lord tilted his head as he walked towards the captain, hands in his pockets. "I do so understand, it's been too long since I've had a full nights sleep myself. Perhaps a new lease of life will do us all the world of good."
The captain placed her hand on her compass and with a small smile, she looked into his eyes. "All the goodwill I can do is ensure my House is treated with respect."
Kent Alfhard opened his mouth to reply, but Giselle interrupted him.
"Now listen, I may be old but I don't walk around making time with the likes of that rabble. They're like a bunch of paupers who for years have been on this world and know nothing of what lies beyond it."
The lord nodded. "Yes, I can see where your concern is coming from."
"Thank you," Giselle smiled.
Kent Alfhard held out his hand. "Now I'm not going to force you to do anything, I just wanted to say hello, in person."
Giselle huffed as she dismissed the statement. "Who would want to spend time with an old hag like me?"
Kent Alfhard smiled again, with the tips of his fingers in his coat.
"That isn't what I meant at all," he said "I'd just like to ask you a question."
Giselle looked sceptical. "Really? And just what would you like to ask me?"
Kent Alfhard looked into her eyes. "What kind of person do you keep on your crew?"
"What kind of person do I keep on my crew?" Giselle scoffed.
"Well," said the captain as she raised her hands, her thumbs resting on top of one of them. "Loyalty and respect are what we value the most, after all, I'm their captain, their leader. It's up to them to find their own path, but if they give me cause, I'll follow."
Kent Alfhard looked from side to side. "It's a fair question," he smiled.
Giselle nodded her head. "I may not have the answers yet, but I'm willing to listen, as long as you do the same."
The Lord Alfhard laughed. "Well, the fairer part of my plan is that you find out about me."
"Really?" Giselle enquired, a smile beginning to form on her face. "And what can I expect, a man with long black hair?"
Kent chuckled. "Exactly that. But I think it's time for me to bid you good evening."
Giselle bowed her head.
"Thank you for your time, Captain," the lord said with a smirk.
Giselle returned the smile. "Anytime."
***
As the sun sank below the horizon of Port Hestanar, the crew of The Fair Lady visited Red Gate District, synonymous with its illicit activity.
The Captain watched her crew pick their way through the streets, choosing the well-known hot spots from the crooked side alleys, where it was notoriously tricky to steal or bribed your way out of an arrest.
Giselle followed where her eye darted. The Narrow Strip with its brothels and brothels, marked with what looked like flashing lights from the balconies in warm golden light. Where whores lingered, where bedding was a thing for every man or beast.
She snorted, the Narrow Strip wasn't what she would call a show, the whores were very good and profitable, but once they broke it down, it was just a big party for the right clientele.
And the whorehouses were hardly a show, no expensive décor, no state of the art setting, just one of those large establishments that cater for the more unsavoury visitors.
Underneath the whores' lavish dress, beneath their high rate of pay, many of these females survived by sleeping during the day and doing some light work at night. Perhaps, Giselle thought, this was why they hadn't a strong desire to stop someone from breaking their established line of work.
Giselle thought about her words. Most of the time she thought she could tell the difference between a line of work and life, and that was why she dedicated herself to hers. And yet here she was, thinking those very words.
Two of her crew glanced back and gestured with a nod, to the source of their last comment.
"…That woman in that place smells like a water dump. I mean on her hands, not just on her ass."
"Like onions," one of the crew commented.
The seductive beings drew the men to each of their houses, and the crew mate each slipped a silver coin into their hands. All the whores took a brief glance at each other and gestured down the street.
The Captain held the bill, normally she would take pleasure in making a fool of a fellow sailor, especially a young man, but what the hell, their last sail together would come soon. Just this once, she would let her men free.
As she moved into the alley, the sailor peered ahead at a naked mare over his shoulder. "Nice gig," the first mate said, still staring, his gaze taking in each part of her. "But I still can't see what she has to offer," the mate said in a whisper.
Giselle smirked at the member. Well, this isn't what you imagined, she thought.
"So you'd rather the man would bite your face off?" she said in response.
"Oh Captain," the first mate whined, "didn't I tell you she'd end up doing it to you? But seriously, she smells like a salty, wet worm. What does she do with water?"
"Please Aspheus, I know you are lying, all the crew know your lies."
"I never lie, do you love me?" Aspheus said, attempting to snatch the bill from the Captain. "I will suck you dry if I have to. Or you can hump this little prick's dick."
"I'm too old for this." Giselle retorted, not paying any heed to the whining of her first mate.
"Go, enjoy the night. Before our last sail," she said to the Aspheus, her own sigh audible.
The first mate tucked the bill back into her pocket and made his way up the street, finally taking the last step into the brothel.
***
Giselle's eyes were half closed as she sipped on her drink, it was the best rum she'd ever had, and she had tasted them all. The bartender finished serving the crowd and looked up at her expectantly. "And another?"
"Another rum."
"Really?" the bartender said, this was hardly surprising.
"Yes." Giselle nodded. The male bartender, his ripe muscle evident from his tight garment.
"If you would like to stay a little longer," the bartender said in a quiet voice. "I will make you a very special drink."
"Let me guess, you will teach me your tricks?" Giselle said mockingly, she had no interest.
"No, but I will let you have another drink for free," the bartender said with a wink.
"No thank you, I would just like to enjoy my pint in peace, it makes the bitter times sweet."
The bartender shrugged his shoulders and bent down to finish preparing Giselle's drink, the raspy-voiced first mate had already gone, as Giselle could no longer hear his restless chatter and constant remarks.
Giselle sat in the tavern, a vacant smile on her face. The rain had started to pick up again, the sheets of grey nothing but sloppy shadows on the road. The first mate had finally gone, he was probably thrusting to ascension for all she cared.
She thought back to her younger days. Back when the sky was too dark to see the stars. When it was too cruel to say a prayer for hope. Back when she had to look for the light in the smallest of places. It was then, that she learned to respect the pain, and power through.
A door creaked open, and a server brought her a large glass of wine. It was unusual for them to bring Giselle food, so she raised her brow in question.
"I didn't ask for food." the old hag said.
The server shook her head, "But he did."
She drank the wine, savouring the taste before she set the glass down.
"Thank you," she said, putting the glass to her lips and making it come straight back up, spilling the wine all over her dress. "What is wrong with me? Why can't I drink?"
"You are drinking to forget," the voice said, "The fear of being alone"
The words struck Giselle like a blast of ice, sending her heart into overdrive. All she could think about was the memories made on the sea, the shanties they sang together, and the laughter in the face of high waves."
The server picked up the glass, "It will take some time to calm down," she said before turning to go.
"I didn't mean to upset her," a voice said.
Giselle turned to find that the stranger had sat down.
Her eyes focused as she pick out the features of the man. Though he is cloaked from the bottom up, and the hood over his head, he could still faintly discern the wordings of a high-born.
"What are you doing? Pitying an old lady in a place like this?" she asked, even if she was far from sweet.
"Do not worry yourself," he said. "I understand the way you are thinking. Let us speak a little more about how much you care."
She thought back to the day she first set sail, the wind rushing past her like a caress. They were in a cave, but the wind had been as passionate as any in a passionless world. She had sat at the cliffside, gazing down at a blank sea. She was high on the crow's nest, seagulls landing on her arms. The spirit of the sea never fazed to amaze her, even after all these years.
The man in the hood said, "I did not mean to upset you, but you will be feeling better soon."
"How much?" the man asked.
"For?"
"The Fair Lady, its crew, and its captain."
She narrowed her eyes. "Is that so? You wanted to see The Fair Lady once more, now that her sails are long past its due?"
"The spirit can always be rekindled," the man said, "The winds are still strong, and The Fair Lady hasn't met her end just yet. "
"Please, do not even hint at such things," she said, "I am a woman of substance, not that the rest of the crew isn't as well. But it's been a long time coming. The Fair Lady would be ripped to its core, the next hand already decided."
The man sighed. "I understand your plight. But fate has turned its ear to me, and says it is time to return."
The man took out a message within his cloak, passing it to the captain. Giselle had a suspicious look, opening the letter carefully as she slowly read its content.
Her mouth dropped, eyes bulging. "You – you? But why?" she asked, her voice low and stern.
"We are of the same breed, same sight, same goal. Let this be a chapter of your next journey."
She put the letter down, tears now flowing freely down her face. "Thank you. Thank you."
The stranger called the server over, "Go and put it on my tab," he said, looking in the bartender's direction. "She still has a few more hours. Then your celebration begins."