Chương 782: Day Seven Hundred And Eighty

Dear Diary,"Be careful with your Passion, Don't feel guilty about it, Passion is strong, but not wrong." - Tabitha Diaz, Doctrine of Tabitha, Book of Passion In this Verse of the Book of Passion, the Doctrine of Tabitha explains to us that while Passion is powerful, and thus dangerous, we ought not feel guilt simply for having or indulging our Passion. For our Goddess, first among her supposed peers, does not wish for us to be weak. She does not desire for us to cower in awe of her power.

But instead she seeks to empower each and every one of us, to the greatest degree we can control that power, rather than being controlled by it. Thus she tells us that when we find our Passion, we find our power, and she sees that as her triumph; not because our power comes from her, but because she has nurtured, encouraged, and explicitly permitted each of us to achieve as much Passion, as much power as we can find and retain within ourselves.

- Priestess Most High Above All Others, Archmage Imperator Saffron Aetos-Diaz, Commentary on the Doctrine of Tabitha That one kinda spins my head a little. Yeah, Kitten's not wrong. That's practically a tautology. But she's also taking things in an entirely different direction than what I was thinking when I wrote the Verse.

Seriously, if I remember what I was thinking right, I wanted to make sure that people knew that I wasn't against them grabbing their Passion with both hands and filling themselves with it, covering themselves with it, living their truth and their very best lives. Yeah, Passion has some dangers, but that's true of anything that's gonna focus every bit of somebody on one thing. Which, I guess, is where the power my Kitten is talking about comes from.

Deities notwithstanding, nothing's more powerful than somebody who is Passionate about what they're talking about, what they're doing, the life they're living. Anybody disagreeing with that has never tried to debate somebody with the 'tism about their Special Interest. Seriously, do not try that shit, especially not in a public forum. You will never live that down. No choice but to delete your account or pretend your little sibling got your phone or some shit.

So yesterday after spending way too long following a kid around the seedier parts of Boltophsberg harbor, I finally met the dude I assumed was Ivan Ivanov at a slightly less seedy bar. Okay, 'tavern', but for my money a tavern is just a super retro themed bar. Don't get on me about how taverns have food, because good bars do too. Yeah, it's bar food, but tavern food is just old fashioned bar food.

So assumed-Ivan stared at me for a minute while I stood there feeling more and more like a fool with my hand sticking out. Finally, after way too long, he made a simple 'fuck off, but don't go too far' gesture to the kid, then waved to the chair across from him.

"I'm Ivanov. Don't know if I would call this an auspicious meeting though." I slipped into the chair and asked, "why not?" Before he could answer, I followed that with, "oh, hey, you mind if I get something to drink? Or something to eat? I haven't had anything since breakfast." He shrugged.

"I don't own the place or anything." That really kinda rubbed me the wrong way, because he totally sidestepped any kind of 'host' duties with that. Thing is, if dude thought he was gonna outmaneuver me on the whole obligations thing, he had another think coming, what with my daughter, my lady, and whatever Adrienne and Jack were being full on Fae. Sidhe even.

"Okay. What you drinking?"

"Red kvass." I tapped my knuckles against the bar lightly to get the barkeep's attention. He didn't look particularly happy, so I dipped a hand in my coin purse for a handful of universal apology for being an ignorant idiot.

"Good Afternoon! Can I get red kvass for my new friend and I?" I turned back to Ivanov, and before he could say anything asked, "what's good to eat here? Like, doesn't have to be an actual meal, just something to keep my stomach from eating itself. I kinda expected a lunch meeting at noon." He shrugged.

"The pickles here are good." I very carefully did not make a face. Instead I turned to the barkeep and said, "can we get some pickles with that too, please?" He just grunted, but he'd already started filling some decent sized mugs with something liquid and red. When he set them on the bar next to our table, I reached up and pulled them down, setting them both on the table in front of Ivan. As I did, I realized they weren't pottery or metal, but the handles felt like leather. Weird, but whatever.

"You care which one?" Ivan nodded, picked up the one to my right, and held it up.

"To your health." I picked up mine, made the same gesture, and said, "to your health!" When I tipped the drink back, I had to take a minute to adjust. Not really anything like the drinks I'd had before. Okay, maybe some of the really niche stuff from PR. It had the typical slight bitterness I associated with alcohol, some of the sweetness I expected from beer, but just a shit pot of sourness.

Still, I'd drunk cheap ass boxed wine, straight vodka with labels in Cyrillic, and even some homemade booze my dealer infused with weed. I hid my mouth with the mug for a second while I took a long pull, then smiled.

"That's better." He hadn't really taken much of a pull from his, but he nodded and set it down.

"What did you do with the men who tried to accost you?" I shrugged.

"Nothin'." He did not look like he believed me, so I followed that with, "no, seriously, I didn't do anything. I had one of my ladies following discreetly, dealing with anybody who tried anything." He frowned.

"An assassin?" I shook my head.

"Nah. A Priestess. Well, High Priestess." Then I frowned, thinking about it.

"I mean, I guess she could assassinate somebody if I asked her to. I probably wouldn't, though. If I want somebody dead I can do that myself. Also, I'm usually not gonna do it quiet like." He snorted.

"Incapable of subtlety?" I pushed my Blend up, then dropped it back to normal. Credit to him, he didn't lose his shit, but he did pause, take another quick drink, then pull the big bowl of pickled whatever off the bar and set it between us. While he filled his mouth with what looked like an ordinary pickle, I surveyed the bowl. It had normal green warty pickles, what looked like pickled carrots, some pearl onions, and I thought i saw some mushrooms, an egg, and a couple little finger sized sausages.

"Nah. I just like noise." He snorted.

"So are those men...?" Karen? A few chipped teeth, possibly. Mostly just unconscious.

"Gonna want an explanation for why they got their asses kicked by somebody they couldn't even see when they tried to lay hands on me? Probably." He sighed, waved the kid back over to us, and when he arrived waved his hands around again. Take everyone payment. Double. The kid waved his hands, but none of them brought her. Ivan shook his head. We set them on someone we shouldn't have. Don't worry, you'll still get your bonus. Kid nodded, then left, all in silence. This story originates from a different website.

Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"What's his story?" Yeah, Ivan didn't have the greatest poker face, but he wasn't completely incapable. After a grimace, he said, "I thought you'd know." When I shook my head, he sighed and said, "Courtesans."

"Dafuq? Please explain." When he looked mulish, I said, "no, seriously, not mad at you in the slightest, but I'd really like to know why they'd hurt a kid. Was it on purpose?" He nodded.

"Retaliation."

"What, one of your people hurt one of their kids?" He just looked at me like I was stupid. I shook my head.

"Okay, look Ivan. I'm not normally a diplomat. Probably gonna fuck this all up. But I'm not gonna do it on purpose. Fuck it up, that is." He shook his head.

"You had a point?"

"Kids. Nobody hurts kids and gets away with it. Not even as retaliation." He snorted.

"Tell that to the Courtesans. The Scribes. The 'Heroes'."

"They hurt your kids?" He prodded the table with one finger.

"They are always hurting our kids. Hurting them by stealing the bread from us. Hurting them by forcing them to do all the dangerous, dirty work while their brats sit inside practicing with pens and swords and instruments." Before he could go on too much more of a tirade, I said, "I'm from Camden. Maybe you've heard of it?" He paused, and I shoved words in the gap.

"I feel you on that. No kid ought to be working, except to learn." He snorted.

"The kids in the Alliance aren't." He opened his mouth. Then closed it.

"I don't believe you." I rolled my eyes. Karen? Get with the other Clergy and make sure they're ready for a visit Friday. What time? Whenever we get there. Yes, Goddess.

"Yeah. I get that. You see me in my fancy uniform and you think I'm rich, always have been. But... give me a chance to prove it to you?" He pulled one of the carrots out, bit off half of it, and chewed thoughtfully. I waited until he swallowed, took another drink, then said, "what did you have in mind?"

"My own kids go to the school at my Temple in Phileo. Fridays, most Saturdays, some Sundays. The rest of the time they're helping around the Homestead. I'd like to take you to see them on Friday." He shook his head.

"I can't be away for weeks."

"Yeah, no. Just for the day. Maybe two or three at most, and only if you want to see more than I can show you in a day." That got him.

"You've a ship that fast?" I shrugged.

"The Black Dragon could make it from here to there in maybe half a day, but I wasn't thinking that. I can get you and any three people you want to bring along there and back in no longer than it takes to tell you that." He gave me all the side eye.

"You've a smuggling ship? And named her Black Dragon?" I snorted, trying not to laugh.

"Sorry, sorry. Just the thought of the Black Dragon'smuggling' anything." I interrupted myself with some snickering.

"Oh, yeah, no. My Black Dragon's many things, but subtle is not one of them." He opened his mouth, then stopped himself.

"Another of those ships like the...' Questing Tentacle'?" I shook my head.

"Nah. Don't get me wrong, the Tentacles are the nicest things we can build right now, but my Black Dragon, she in a league by herself." He paused.

"You said 'your'. Like you own her." I shrugged.

"I mean, I guess technically she's an Alliance ship, but, y'know, I'm the Champion and Patron and the Imperator's Attack Dog. She's mine in every way that matters." He barked out a laugh.

"The captain might argue with you."

"Nah. Well, okay, probably, but then I've done plenty of way stupider stuff than arguing with myself before. Beat myself to death once. That stung." He just sat there with his mouth open a little bit before I winked at him conspiratorially and whispered, "wanna see her?" He nodded, I reached a hand out. He looked confused, but stood and reached over like he was gonna help me up. The moment his hand touched mine, I stepped us to the foredeck.

"Welcome aboard, Ivan." I swear the man almost had a coronary right there. Eyes bulged, jumped away from me, almost stumbled over the railing. Then he looked around.

"This isn't..." He looked over the side, where the anchor chains hung down, keeping her on station.

"Where are we?"

"On the foredeck of the Black Dragon, about fifteen miles out from Boltophsberg."" Black... This isn't a fucking ship, this is an island." I laughed.

"Oh, shit. You should see your face. Yeah, you don't need to anchor an island. Although we did run her aground down in the Bay for a while. Well, I did. Dropped her right on a big Undead Dragon. Splat. Which left her sitting on clay for a bit until my Kitten managed to un-ground her. But we used her as a kind of artificial island fortress for a Season or so." He took a couple steps, impressing me with how quick he'd adjusted to the ever so gentle motion of the ship, then turned to me.

"May I?"

"Be my guest. I did say I'd show you." Over the next half hour, without ever going inside, I watched as Ivan lost his fuckin' mind in all the best ways. Swanson and Orla had both loved my big badass girl, but they were both military first, sailors second. I realized as he looked over everything that he wasn't. Ivan was a sailor. A boat guy, anyhow. Not that her crew didn't love her, but Ivan... by the time he looked up at the mast, frowning, he was absolutely in lust with my ship.

"How?"

"Uh, how what?"

"How do you make thirty two knots with that little sail?" I realized right then that while he definitely lusted after my girl, he had no idea what she was.

"Uh, yeah, not a sailing ship." He frowned.

"Screws."

"What?" I thought about it for a second, how to explain it to somebody who'd never seen what I thought of as a modern ship. Hell, he hadn't even seen a fuckin' paddleboat. Which gave me the idea I needed.

"Okay, so, y'know how a rowboat works, right?" He snorted.

"'How a rowboat works' she asks. There's no 'working' to the rowboat. The working is the men rowing."

"Okay, yeah, but you know how you push the boat forward by pushing water back with the oars, right?" He got the weirdest thoughtful look at that.

"I seem to remember a story about Vyenemoinen doing something just like that." At my boggled look, he explained, "rowing so hard he turned the course of the tide."

"Yeah, I don't know from that, but yeah, screws are kind of like paddles. They push the ship forward against the water." That got a frown.

"How many men do you have manning those 'screws'?" I almost said 'none', until I remembered that the boilers were now mostly Mana driven.

"Uh, couple dozen, working in shifts, I think. All Mages. Shapers. Or, y'know, I can do it."

"Ah. Magic. Fair." Then he shook his head, nodded to the mast.

"Can we go up there then?" I nodded.

"My favorite spot, really." So we climbed up the mast as the sun went down. Which is when the ship's running lights came on. Nothing really bright, I guess so Boltophsberg didn't wonder about the glow, but still enough I could tell where the edges of the ship were when I looked down. After we'd stood there a while, taking in the lights, the stars, the gentle breeze and the motion of the waves, not to mention the sort of ongoing glow of Kraken scooting around the ship like playful cephalopods. He said, "those...

stubby house things." He nodded to turret two.

"Yeah. Her main guns. Weapons." He just shook his head.

"I can't think Boltophsberg has anything that would outrange them?" I shrugged.

"I dunno. Probably not. But I don't know what you've got in the harbor. Or, y'know, in the City." He snorted.

"The City?" I nodded.

"I'm pretty sure all of it's in range. The harbor sure as shit is." He closed his eyes.

"Take me back?" I nodded, laid a hand on his shoulder, and the next moment we were in the bar we'd met in.

"Home again, home again, jiggity jig." He flopped into his seat, then waved at the bartender as I sat.

"He's a... I don't even know what to call him."

"Her." He shot me a look.

"What? She's my ship, and she a big girl." He snorted.

"Beautiful ship, but... yours?"

"What's got you doubting?"

"Most men I know... Even the women sailors, even more so the women, wouldn't be quite so..." It took me a minute of him searching for the word, but when I realized I laughed. He frowned, but I waved an apology, "no, no, no. Laughing 'cause you don't get me." As his frown dimmed, I explained.

"Yeah, I've got two Wives, a Concubine, and whatever Tallulah is. Second Concubine, I think, but I'm not sure we ever formalized it. You know what I do when some dude gets it on with them?"

"Something brutal, I'd think." I shook my head, then shrugged.

"Okay, maybe if that's what they're into. But mostly? I watch. Or join in. Same goes for women who do the same." He looked kinda weirded out, so I finished with, "Jealousy is stupid. I decided."

"So your women aren't yours?" I rolled my eyes.

"Only as much as I'm theirs. We're partners. Not belongings. People aren't property." That got him, almost as much as the whole 'screw' thing, once he understood it. Shit, I'd probably given away state secrets there. Fuck it, Kitten could spank me. Ledger. Fuck. Probably. I didn't explain my grin to him. Eventually, the barkeep set a bottle and two small glasses down on the bar. Ivan took them down, set one glass in front of me, one in front of him, and said, "I'll make you a deal. Drink with me.

If this still seems like a good idea when we're both drunk, I'll come visiting your Temple on Freyday." So... we drank. We drank... a lot. I don't think we drank more than Dionysus. But then this wasn't ouzo. This was vodka. Not even expensive vodka. Cheap assed, harsh, stupidly alcoholic vodka. Shot after shot, each one sent out to another fallen friend. Okay, I think he was toasting missing friends. Might have been enemies. Might have been exes. I know I named all the folks I missed from back in the day.

Relatives. Friends. ROTC. Classmates. All the folks I never checked up on, for fear that they'd moved on without noticing I was gone. Maybe, just a little, for fear that I'd see their gravestones alongside my own. We got more than drunk. Ivan wasn't an angry drunk, which surprised me. He wasn't a handsy horny drunk either, which I had problems hiding my own self. He was, as can be guessed from his choice of toasts, a bit of a morose drunk. But right around noon today, he nodded to me.

"Freyday."

"Friday."