Carlo Zeno awoke with a splitting headache to an unfamiliar bedroom. Instead of the wooden ceiling of his ship, the Colorful Raconteur, he was staring at a canopy bed in an unfamiliar chamber. Instead of sleeping alone, as was normal during voyages, he felt a warm, soft, body next to him. He had to get up, but movement felt like it would take a while. Nevertheless, he summoned his willpower and heaved himself up from the surprisingly comfortable feather bed. Ignoring the throbbing in his forehead, Carlo swung his legs over the side of the bed and stepped onto the stone floor, foot nudging an empty bottle of something as he did. Carlo rolled the bottle over with his foot and looked down to see the label, grimacing as he did so.
"Bugman's Barak Varr Grog, Twenty Year Reserve. That explains the headache, though not what happened." Muttered Carlo.
The last thing he recalled was heading east into the Black Gulf after his two-ship armada had captured an Arabyan Spice Galley. They had been on course for Barak Varr to sell the spices since the Tilean Coast was a war zone yet again and his small group of technical Privateers was in no way equipped to deal with battle fleets. True, they had a letter of Marque, however, said letter of Marque was from Prince Esteban Cornejo of Sitges in Estalia, a prince that had been couped by a Pro-Tilean noble while his small flotilla had been sailing. It was unlikely to be honored in Tilea. After all, even if his countrymen were at each other's throats half the time, the one thing they were likely to agree on was that Tilean Interests should be upheld against third parties at all times. So he'd gone east to Barak Varr instead.
As he padded over toward the small privy that seemed to be attached to this room to answer the call of nature, he continued to piece together recent events. As his flotilla had sailed east, with the Arabyan Spice Galley now under command of the freed Galley Slaves, who had joined his flotilla in exchange for their freedom, the now three-ship flotilla had come upon a smaller fluyt fleeing a pair of ramshackle Greenskin ships. His flotilla had moved to aid the smaller craft against the Greenskins, firing their guns as they closed. One of the Greenskin ships sunk from a broadside by the ColorfulRaconteur while the second of his initial two-ship flotilla, the Beluga fired a spread of grapeshot to help clear the deck of the second ship before boarding. It had worked, with many of the goblins on deck dying and even some of the Orcs taking fatal wounds. Carlo lead the boarding action from the Colorful Raconteur while the Kislevite Captain of the Beluga, Stanislaw Karolski, lead a second boarding party from his ship. In the end, Carlo had faced off against an Orc in a ridiculous purple bicorne with a simultaneously ridiculous peacock feather in it. The Orc had been strong and tough, but Carlo had been faster and more skilled and managed to slay the beast.
As he stood from the privy after finishing his business, Carlo had recalled that the fluyt had belonged to the daughter of the Count van den Meer who was the count of the port town of Ijssel in the Border Princes. Elena van den Meer had begged Carlo to save her father's small, Barony-Sized, Principality from the Greenskins of Admiral Bigsmasha. Issjel had been under siege and blockade for a few months and Elena had barely managed to slip past the blockade in the dead of night on her small Fluyt. She even promised that she would marry Carlo if he saved the town.
As Carlo walked out of the stall toward the wash basin and mirror, he recalled snippets of what had transpired when his flotilla had reached the Town. Battle had been engaged with the blockade Flotilla, including the absolutely massive Flagship of Admiral Bigsmasha. The Orc himself was easily twice Carlo's size and wielded a gigantic wooden mallet that was more a tree stump on a pole than a proper hammer. Still, that gigantic slab of wood had easily stove in the breastplate-armored chest of a bald man with a hooked nose that would later be identified as Count Maartin van den Meer who had led a last-ditch sally on small boats out of the harbor to attempt to kill the Admiral. Carlo's duel with the Admiral had lasted for an extended period before Bigsmasha had clipped him in the head with a glancing blow from his mallet.
The next thing Carlo recalled was a confusing jumble of yellow light suffusing him as if he'd been visited by Myrmidia herself. Then pushing himself off the deck of Bigsmasha's flagship and continuing to fight. Somehow, he'd managed to slay the Orc Admiral during round two, managing a blow with his cutlass to the Orc's unarmored wrist that managed to strike through flesh and bone and lop the Greenskin Admiral's hand clean off. Carlo had no idea how he'd managed that, because he could have sworn he wasn't strong enough to cut through a wrist that was roughly the same diameter as a tree trunk and was roughly three times as tough to cut through before he'd caught his second wind. Bigsmasha had been surprised too, which had allowed Carlo to thrust his blade up into the large Orc's brain from beneath the chin. His cutlass sunk through the bottom of the chin, up through the soft palate, and into the Brain.
Bigsmasha died with a shocked look on his face. Unfortunately, the Orc had toppled over the side, taking Carlo's cutlass with him. Fortunately, the rest of Bigsmasha's armada swiftly fell to infighting over who would be the next Admiral, allowing Carlo's flotilla to bombard them from the safety of their ships. With the Greenskin fleet sunk, and Bigsmasha dead, the Goblins that had been blockading the town from the shore fled in advance of Carlo's Armada bombarding them, though the fleet bombardment had still killed many of them as they routed. The remnants of Bigsmasha's fleet fled west along the Old Silk Road to what Carlo's maps insisted was the territory of the Blue Face Orcs on the Black Peninsula.
As Carlo washed his face, he realized that with the Count dead and him set to marry Elena van den Meer, that essentially made him the new ruler of the Free County of Issjel. He'd gone from privateer to pirate to Border Prince in the span of less than a fortnight. Not bad for a Ship Captain's Son from the Dockside of Luccini.
As Carlo stood from the wash basin after washing his face and looked at himself in the mirror he saw, shining on his forehead the symbol of a sunburst in shimmering, glowing gold. A blazing sun like the kind associated with Myrmidia picked out on his forehead for all to see. It made an odd contrast with his black hair, olive skin, and steel gray eyes. Still, that wasn't the point! The point was that those who gained the favor of a God tended to be in for interesting times, as he'd heard those who were involved in the Cathayan silk trade sometimes say. He didn't want to live in interesting times! He wanted a few short years of seizing cargoes from Arabyan vessels followed by a comfortable retirement! He had thought managing to become a Border Prince would do it, but apparently not!
"Merda!" He hissed.
"Carlo? Are you awake?" Came a soft, feminine voice from the Bedroom Proper.
"Merda." Muttered Carlo under his breath as he began to inwardly panic. How was he going to explain this to Elena? Somehow he didn't think telling her that her new husband had been chosen by Myrmidia to do some as-yet-undefined thing was going to cut it. She might even call for an annulment, and then he'd be right back where he started this trip, having taken on a deadly Seaborne Waagh for no tangible gain!
"Carlo?" Called out Elena again.
Fortunately, the blazing sun on his forehead began to fade as Carlo called back, "Just washing up, my darling! Un momento!"
That bought him enough time to calm himself down and think through his situation clearly. The Border Princes were fractious, with any number of small, Barony-sized principalities all vying for position in both war and trade. Not only that, but Greenskin tribes claimed swathes of territory that unlucky or unskilled princes had formerly owned. If Myrmidia really was blessing him with preternatural abilities, there was a chance he could leverage those into uniting the Border Princes, pushing out at least some of the Greenskins, and solidifying control of the region. That at least might bring him the comfortable retirement he had wanted. By the time he exited the privy, Carlo Zeno had the germ of a plan.
Hopefully uniting the Border Princes would be enough to satisfy Myrmidia. . .
XXXX
AN: Yes, I know, I know. I have too many stories. I don't plan on abandoning any of my current ones for this just yet, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone.
The Border Princes are pretty neglected in fanfiction and quests, even though there's a lot of opportunity there for drama, as well as world-building. I also was struck by how similar Myrmidia's Blazing Sun symbol was to the Dawn Caste Solar's Caste Mark. Plus, any time I get to do nautical-themed stuff is always fun for me. Put them together and a germ of an idea bloomed.
Anyway, I'll have the next chapter up later tonight
Stay tuned