Chapter 47

I'm not sure what I expected when the Doge started walking out and the Marquis started yammering.

"Doge of the Spice Archipelago, Lord of Sea and Ice and Land, Protector of the Realm-"

An old man, ineffectual, bowed down by his power. A fat fool, swollen with the same. An imbecile or a madman, a Caligula in furs.

"-Head of the Ducal Council, Keyholder of the Armories, Keeper of the Histories, Anointed of-" THWACK.

I was not expecting a seven-foot-tall, scarlet-haired, red-bearded, and heavily muscled man to literally throw his scepter at the Marquis, knocking the man unconscious mid-sentence, before striding forward to meet Grenzer with a beaming smile.

"So you're the mercenaries, then," the Doge says, never losing the smile.

"So you're the ruler, then," Vinci mutters, barely on the edge of hearing, and I smile behind my scarf.

There's a zipping sound from off to the right, and I glance over to see that Maurice the loudmouth has had the entire lower half of his head covered in duct tape. The bureaucrat officer- Gabriel? - is holding a slightly smoking cardboard roll. The bespectacled man meets my eyes and gives me a slight nod.

Heh. Guess he's not so bad, when he's not giving boring briefings.

Grenzer and the Doge are still talking, but now they're walking off...guess I'll follow. Don't particularly care what's being said, honestly- the few snatches I get are bits of flattery and political bullshit. Not that important yet, and judging from Jack's 'pay no attention to my obvious eavesdropping' expression, I'm going to get what I need to know told to me later anyway.

There's Ducal Guard on all sides, lining the walls like suits of armor. Interspersed with actual suits of armor as well. The place looks like something Louis XVI would shake his head at the excess of, I think even the wallpaper is lined with gold foil tracing along the designs of vines and flowers. Also, I'm pretty sure we're gradually sinking into the carpeting. I look down...yep, that stuff's ankle deep at the minimum.

I'm not sure if it's the soldiers or just the fact that this place doesn't look quite real, but it's setting me on edge. I can feel my tails twisting under my skin, wanting to be unleashed, and I force the urge down as our party approaches a pair of wooden doors. Simple ones, ungilded.

The door opens at the Doge's push, and our party shuffles in. Smoke fills the air, the smell of tobacco omnipresent. There's four men already there, sitting around the round table that dominates the room, and as I watch one of them- a short and pudgy fellow in blue pinstripes and a cigar clamped in a wide-toothed grin- sweeps a deck of cards back together, stashing it in some pocket.

There's only six empty seats at the table. One, the Doge takes, before motioning for others to sit.

There's a moment of consideration before each of the captains pulls out a chair and sits. I stand at Vinci's right, watching the three who were already here.

Pudgy one in blue, smile never wavering as he looks over us with empty eyes. A tall, lanky man, skeletally thin, in a red pinstripe suit, who seems more amused by us than anything, smoking a cigarette. A heavily built man with a uniform full of medals and bling, who looks about ready to keel over at any moment. Not from age, but from what I'm fairly certain is a long love affair with whatever local equivalent of the Big Mac exists. The fourth would be completely unremarkable as a human being were it not for the goatlike horns poking out of his forehead. He gives me a challenging look, and I smile. After a moment, he returns it.

"Gentlemen." He nods to the armored Gear Pirate. "And lady."

Wait, she's a- huh. You'd think I'd notice that, but all I can smell from her is copper and oil, no trace of pheromones.

"My apologies for the secrecy. The Marquis is an extremely effective man when it comes to convincing people to work for me, but he is...less than open with his information, as I'm sure you've noticed."

There's a soft ripple of chuckles from the assembled pirates.

"Well. Now that he's actually assembled you all here, I can finally begin giving you some decent information about exactly why you've been hired. Khazrak, the files."

The horned man tosses down a pile of manila folders.

"Edwyn Roberts...well, I think you all know enough about him. I, like many rulers, have a few friends in the World Government. Enough that when it was discovered that the magnate was starting to plot to usurp my throne...well, I had to take action. He began hiring mercenaries and arming people he trusted in secret- I rallied the Ducal Guard, cut off his supply of arms, and sent the Marquis to hire whoever he could rally to supplement my forces. General Haig?"

The coronary-ready man clears his throat. "Er, yes. The rebels control two of the five islands, though they haven't dared push into civilized territory just yet, cowardly buggers. Both of the islands were almost all covered in mines Roberts owned anyway, so good riddance to that lot. Anyone who goes near might lose their head, mind, but with your boys helping ours I'm sure we can crush them."

"You're an idiot," Grenzer growls as he puts the files he's been reading down.

"Excuse me, sir?! I shall-"

"Shut up."

I see Vinci grin out of the corner of my eye as Grenzer leans forwards, putting his elbows on the table. "Have you even looked at this list of who this fat sack of shit has hired?" Grenzer growls. "Because I have. The Shell King Pirates, led by 'One Punch' Xio and 'Poison Spear' Jizhu, 87 and 65 million. The Poison Fang Pirates, 'Acid Breath' Vehrlovoss, 36 million. A full battalion of the Kreiger Mercenary Group...and the Black Beard Pirates-"

Wait, what. I take a step back, trying to think- How the fuck is Blackbeard here? Why would he even be-

"-led by 'Black Beard' Villos, and 'Black Feather' Grackle, 75 and 47 million. That is some serious firepower we're expected to counter."

Oh thank god, it's not the giant hippo asshole.

"Don't sweat it, old guy," the short guy in blue pinstripes says. "You're just here to help us out. Can't exactly cover all the bases, just the two of us, dontcha know."

"And you are?" my captain asks as he watches the two intently.

"Aw, we aren't famous?" the tall one in red asks. "Such a pity."

"I'm Tristo," the short one says.

"I'm Amico," the tall one calls.

"We're the Boondocks Brothers, and we work nights," they say at the same time.

I struggle not to raise my eyebrows as Tristo chuckles.

"Alright, seriously kid-"

Vinci almost visibly twitches.

"-we'll be handling a good chunk of trouble, dontcha know. Isn't much different from the usual work old Goldy here usually gives us. And I suppose those guys in armor'll be of help."

I do raise my eyebrows at that. Considering what I saw of the Guard...well, they'd probably make good bullet shields.

The Doge claps his hands. "Well! I'm sure you all have a great deal to discuss, but I must be going. Come to me if you require anything of importance, but I trust in your ability to manage this internal struggle without my...dubious input. General Haig here shall inform you of what assets will need protecting immediately."

Wait…

Wait.

This is another fucking meeting.

About pointless shit.

Again.

Internal screaming, commence!