(Please note, Braegnir is not the point-of-view character. This story is told from an outside perspective regarding an event involving Braegnir.)
A thunderous crash came from the main entryway, though I could not tell at first if it was from storm rolling outside or my master returning from the docks. Upon hearing his heavy footfalls on the nearly-pristine stone floors, I had my answer. I quickly rushed to the kitchen to fetch his preferred wine and a single glass. However, on my way into the parlor where he would typically go directly after work, I heard conversation.
I pressed my ear to the door. Within, I could hear my master's gravely, booming tone accompanied by a voice I had never heard before. He was most certainly another man, that much was obvious, but his voice clear, almost melodic, and completely unwavering as he managed to pierce through the growling. I quickly went to grab another glass for the man and silently entered the room, pouring them both a glass.
"I have told you many times over, I need more time," my master barked, snatching the glass from my hands. "Your precious father will just have to wait."
A laughter rang through the room like bells. "You have my intentions mistaken, sir," the man said, bowing his head low to me as he gingerly took the glass as it was presented to him. "I do not come on my father's behalf, but of my own." It is then that I am able to finally get a proper look at him. He was quite a wiry fellow, draped in blues and greens, with a large crow perched on the back of the chair. His face was smooth save for the deep wrinkling between his eyebrows and the short beard that grew. He seemed to glow like the light of day touching the summer sea. In fact, the only thing that unsettled me was the pitch black cane that he gripped in his hand.
My master simply laughed in the man's face now, clearly unimpressed. "Oh really? And what is it that a boy has come to ask of me," he questioned, gulping down the wine as it were water on a hot day. "I seriously doubt there is anything you could ask of me."
"On the contrary." The man set down his glass and revealed a scroll hidden underneath his cloak. He leaned in the distance between himself and my master, slowly but deliberately extending the scroll out to him. "I have a great many things I could ask of you."
The paper was snatched away and roughly unfurled. The contents of it seemed to outrage my master almost as much as the man's presence. "This is beyond unreasonable, 'Master of Ships,'" he exclaimed now, nearly throwing the paper into the fire. Instead, he threw it in my face. I did my best to catch it without wrinkling the paper, but that proved difficult with the shock of it. "What are asking for would essentially make me your servant, or worse. I refuse to be your little bitch, coming and going at your beck and call!"
The man simply scratched at his dark beard, taking in my master's answer. "I see," he states rather plainly. He taps a finger against the golden pommel of his cane, before standing up to his full height, his bird fluttering up onto his shoulder. "I cannot say that I am not disappointed. I would have loved a partnership with you, sir, but I can see that your mind is made up." He amicably offers his hand for my master to shake, which he does. The man grips his hand firmly before pulling him up and out of his chair for a tight hug. "There is no need for such formality! Why, I feel a song coming on. Perhaps you would indulge me." And, just like that, the man in blue began humming a tune and swept my bewildered master into a dance. Frankly, it was quite funny to see him so completely and utterly confused, I almost found myself unable to restrain a laugh.
That was, until the man brought them both back closer to the chair had been sitting in. I was just about to burst before I even realized that it had happen, but the blood was now undeniable as it spilled from my master's throat. The man in blue simply stood there as his victim dropped to the floor on his back, looking over the thin blade in his hand. His face twisted in disgust as he bent over the body, wiping the blood on its clothing.
I could hardly remember a thing as I backed myself into the corner of the room, apart from the man's bird chirping incessantly. My master was dead. Murdered right there in front of me. From the corner of my vision, I saw the man in blue slide the blade back into its home in the pitch black cane as he practically glided over to where I was. He looked down at me and it was only then I noticed just how much he dwarfed me by comparison, for I was not even that short for a woman. He loomed over me, casting a long and dark shadow and then I realized that this man was not the calm sea that I thought him to be; he was a violent storm just as the one raging outside, and I had been caught so carelessly.
His eyes inspected me, the honed sharpness cutting through my heart like it were mere butter, as if he were able to see just how ugly I truly was on the inside. Finally, his eyes stopped, landing on my own. "You will do," he said, and then all I knew was a searing pain in my skull as all turned to black
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I awoke to the rumble of the cobbled road shaking me. I blinked through the light of the summer sun to find myself bound, being carted off to some unknown destination. Around me were folks of a wide variety, ranging from a frightened young man insisting he had done nothing wrong to a rogue Easterling that had not yet accepted the defeat of the Dark Lord.
"Look who's awake. The little killer," said a man to my side. I jumped at being addressed in such a manner, though I paused soon after.
"Killer?"
The man snorted out a thick laugh, one that barely made it out his throat. "Indeed. I know what you did," he said with a cheeky wink. "Heard it from one of the guards before they loaded us up. Killed your master and all, eh?"
I could hear nothing now save for my own thoughts. I had not killed anyone, but I could not make the words take form. This all had to be a mistake. Then, it finally occurred to me as we rounded the corner where the gallows stood so tall and proud, I had not just been caught in the storm.
I had been blamed for it entirely.
