A congregation of Naval officers hailing from Ord and Cygnar have convened in addition to various trading companies, mercantile guilds and the Order of Illumination upon Captain’s Isle. This meeting marks the largest gathering of captains, companies and admirals in he last few years and for good reason. A stern looking man in a dark brown duster and tricorn hat clears his throat rising from the embassy table capable of sitting five dozen or so around a massive table with a incredibly detailed map of Immoren’s trading supply lines between the interested parties.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I wanted to thank you for coming especially have such a tragedy as we experienced here in Five Fingers recently. But I think it is well past time we discussed the nature of the events that have transpired here inside our harbor. We all are different views as to what exactly the root cause of this “War of Masks” was. Some of you will say we lacked vigilance, others will say corruption, and more still will shout that it was leniency upon the High Captains. But in the end it isn’t the cause that will bring us down but rather what rose from the result. Perhaps we could use a reminder as to what I mean…"
The main takes off his tricorn hat showing himself a young, strong and capable man bearing a deep gash on his chin perhaps in his late 30s. Setting his hat upon the table he points to dot that represents Five Fingers and looks up angrily to all the representatives hoping to elicit a response out of them.“This city is the beating heart of yours, mine; OUR endeavors. Be it commerce, religion, discipline, innovation or any other concept it lives, breaths, expands or dies in this city. Ultimately all that coin and effort you pour into your endeavors fails if one rudimentary thing were to happen. Of course what I speak of is Anarchy…”
His words linger in the air as he confirms each and every person at the table agrees with him in some way; be it a head nod, concerned eyes or nervous tick. He clears his throat and drinks from a glass of water prepared by a servant as he sets it down looking intensely at them all.
“My associates, I certainly hope you are fully considering what happens if we leave something like Captain Essex and the Anchor’s Bane to sail our seas uncontested. The War of Masks may have been a tragedy few could have predicted, but protecting piracy is a far greater concern to the continued longevity of this Kingdom and its laws. The last time Ord neglected it’s duties toward the criminal element we were pulled into a war with Khador we barely survived without Morrow’s aid.”
The congregation mutters among itself as people are unpleased by the comparison but not even the most daring nay-sayer could rise above a whisper. The young man relaxes his pose and sighs
“Our king himself has excused the actions of the Anchor’s Bane, and to many of you this is enough to cast aside the concern this ship represents. That talk of Kelley Essex having served in the Military and Navy was enough to put your concerns t rest. However like many interested parties here I am not asking you to seek action against the Bane for what she has done. I am Imploring you to consider the actions she has yet to take, and to crush the influence she has had upon our fair city’s citizens who have see that with enough support the City Watch, Navy and standard laws of Piracy can be halted and even reversed. Gentlemen this cannot stand. A Pirate cannot kill an admiral, his 300 men serving him and steal his boat to then bombard the city without being made an example of!”
He slams his fist down on the table as many of the officials begin to agree with this speaker’s words before the representative of House Mateu rises from his seat with an interested look on his face. Gabriel Mateu smiles combing a hand through his hair and looks the stern man in the face
“Captain Grallow, what exactly are you suggesting we bring to a vote to for this summit? The King himself said the man is a war hero, wouldn’t it be treason to suggest harm upon him or his crew now?”
Grallow only smiles back to Gabriel before replying with an all too knowing smile
“That is precisely why I suggest we prepare for when he isn’t on Ordic land. A Legality issue I have been assured is fully prosecutable to the fullest extent of the law once this has transpired. Additionally The Order of Illumination has more than enough claim to seek the now infamous Jehremi Chaeffer for the Murder of Knight Captain Bronson, Rector Tyson Del-Sol and Honor Guard Maria and the entire Merin Escort.”
An aged man with a serious demeanor on his face and the white, silver and golden robes of a Morrowan High Prelate clears his throat looking to Grallow acknowledging his comment before expanding upon it further in a soft but certain tone.
“His words alone have brought cultist activity to an all-time high in the last 5 years here. But more eyes than just Thamar fall upon this city, my Rector spoke of many things in his letters to me about this Jehremi Chaeffer. The most painful has been to learn of the nature of his man being that of a good and just sort. I fear Rector Del-Sol may have fallen sway to Mesmerisms if he was speaking what he felt was the truth for this Cultist’s words were speaking of giving himself over to monstrous power to drag humanity toward a darker path. The order has many cultists in their sights… but Tyson was one of my very best and he deserves Morrow’s justice.”
Gabriel lowers his head along with others as the High Prelate spoke, mostly out of feigned reverence. As soon as he finishes speaking he looks back to the Morrowan and smiles weakly
“Thank you Most Reverend Augustine, I too had the displeasure of meeting this man and quickly knew my mortal soul was imperiled by him and his crew. If you would like to discuss this at length I would be happy to co-operate with your investigation. However that still leaves the matter of catching him. I have heard the Anchor’s Bane is one of the fastest ships upon the Meredius employing a double steam paddle engine and a crack team of engineers who have overhauled the system. Catching her would prove a problem for most captains.”
Grallow looks a little uncertainly over in the direction of the door as an older man who has been sitting in the corner of the room adjusts his posture. He is in his late fifties with brilliantly blue eyes and greying hair in a formal but functional captain’s outfit that seems to herald from one or two decades ago. His face looks dour and hungry for violence as he glares over the whole room as he sighs. Grallow asks for the entire room the one burning question they have been wanting to ask him.
“Admiral? Would this summit be able to count on you to restore sanity to this country?”
The older man straightens his back and tucks his arms behind himself before speaking in a wavering voice.
“I’ve not been an Admiral in 8 years. I am not your man.”
Captain Grallow sees a man wracked by emotion in front of him, a soldier who knows exactly how to compartmentalize his emotions for a proper time and place. To Grallow though all he saw was his old Captain letting the enemy get their way. He slams his fists onto the table refusing the answer.
“Unacceptable, sir not a soul here doubts the pain you must be going through Admiral. But sir, I remember better than anyone here how much you love this country sir. Can you really abandon her in her time of need? Surely we’ve endured enough ridicule from the masses. Order needs to be enforced, if not for the Reputation of our Navy… then for your son.”
The old man’s beaten expression turns fierce as he glares at Captain Grallo with a hand on his pistol as he flares his teeth. “Hold your tongue sir, less you wish a duel.” His words were icy and serious as a man with nothing to lose could be.
“I refuse to let Carving Carson be remembered this way but this Summit. You were greater than this sir! I speak for the entire summit right now sir, just give me the world and I’ll follow you to any waters, to any fate you deem worthy aboard The Atlas. But don’t let the man who killed your son and stole your daughter walk away called a Hero when that was Lucan’s honor to end the riots at sunrise.”
Carson McClay Looks dead into the eyes of Grallow like a waking giant ready for blood. He looks to the entire summit with a hiss
“I don’t promise survivors, I only promise to deal with Kelley Essex…by whatever means I deem necessary. I will need a Letter of Marque drafted up within the hour and delivered to The Atlas. Until then I want eight of best merchants outfitting them and feeding us information about their movements. I want to be told the moment they weigh anchor… I plan to put all of hell behind my sails once he leaves port.”
Grallow looks vindicated with a zealous and hungry look he turns to the Summit goers and proclaims.
“Then there we have it, I motion that we entrust our needs to the soon to be re-instated Admiral Carson McClay and move to make the flagship of our endeavors his Galleon The Atlas.”
Smiles look to cross the faces of nearly all the summit as the vote is called without a single vote against the seasoned veteran of 35 years of Naval Combat to lead an entire flotilla of pirate hunting vessels against the Anchor’s Bane and Crown’s Fallacy.