^^ the Damascene Ivory Swords ^^

— Ben —

I think the children were a little too interested in the Serpent's Skull, which was hung proudly from the bowsprit, as a massive, gory figurehead. Several times a day for the past month, even in the depths of a storm, we had to fetch the children away from it, so that they wouldn't be cast overboard by a rogue wave.

Even though the storms had weakened again once we entered the Med, it was still unwise for a 13 year old girl who'd never worked a day in her life to try to climb the rigging over stormy water, rope harness or no.

Either way, the port of Rome was another welcome sight, and the welcome we received was puzzling, at best.

Cheers came up from the docks, as we came into sight, and I frowned at the several Red Crosses that we're waving on flags, as well as various house crests I didn't quite recognize, and even a few of the Egyptian House Crest/Signatures... Tughra, I think. Several of them saw the dragon's head, and ran off shouting in Latin, of which I only caught 'the dragon is dead!'

I glanced at Reginald. "What's all this?"

He shrugged. "I haven't received any news. Maybe the Red Cross in Crimea did something to assist the war effort? We were ordered to stay clear of that, and only help the wounded and give rites to the dead, but we're an unruly lot, so who knows?"

I sighed. "Well, tell me what those Tughra are for, so I'm prepared. The house crests are for the Red Cross Cardinals, right?"

"Almost, but Good work. Those are for the various Sects, one in every major area. I see only Egyptian, Norse, and English, however. Odd. Usually the Templar's get the Roman's attention, not us. Still, they don't seem hostile, so I can't think of a reason to wait to put in to port." He frowned.

"Alright... OI, business as usual, lads, take her in!!!" I barked, and the bosun relayed the Order across the ship. The people with the great cloth sheets covered in crests came closer, waving them, until the cannons visibly turned towards them at a bark from Adrian. They halted almost comically, and backed up to a respectful distance.

Ropes were tossed out and secured to the docks by a few of the more daring sailors, having to swing down 20meters to make the knots, from a moving ship. As always, it was done with naval precision, and we were soon properly secured, the ship rocking only mildly in the calm waves.

I whistled up a few gunners, just to be sure, and Adrian and I went to meet the dock master to check in our vessel, as was normal.

The crowd parted before us rather easily when they saw our weapons slightly drawn, and we reached the dock-master's cabin at the end of the docks soon enough.

Adrian knocked loudly, and the door swung open instantly, as a small Italian man stomped out angrily. He attempted to shove past us, but only succeeded in knocking himself to the ground, and then stared up at us, far above him.

I ignored him, and looked at the dock master, who was holding the door. "Hullo, there! The IronHeart is docked on the third pier, awaiting permission to offload cargo and passengers?"

The small, heavyset man blinked slowly, and placed a pair of spectacles on his face, before reeling back and nodding frantically. "Sane, ut tibi placet fac, eques Auratus Sancti!" He shook his head fervently when Adrian tried to pay him, and babbled a bit more in Latin, too fast for me to pick out the words.

The small Italian man on the ground was slowly becoming more and more pale, however, as if whatever the Dock Master was saying was damning to him.

I eventually shrugged, and turned away, walking back towards the ship. Once in visual range, I waved, and the unloading began in proper order. I spotted the Admiral's Flagship, pulling abreast of us on the opposite side of the pier, and waved to the helmsman, before fetching Minna and the girls.

"Was-was-wassall that, mama?" Philippa asked, staring at the crowd under my shoulder with wide silver-blue eyes.

"Well, they seem to be celebrating something, little one... I don't know what, though, precious, so we will leave them be." Minna hummed.

Philippa poked at my stomach swiftly. "Uncle Ben!!! Go as-assas-ask them what theys'is celebratin'!!!"

I chuckled and hoisted her up onto my shoulder, opposite Cleo, and obediently marched over to the crowd, who quieted as I approached. "My Lady Philippa Lyons wishes to know your purpose here!" I announced grandly, and she giggled.

A few moments of shocked silence, and a Priest made his way through the crowd, laying about himself with his heavy bible when people shoved back, clearing a path for himself. "Saint Lyons, please, this way." He gestured towards the Vatican, and I blinked slowly at the address.

"Excuse me?" I asked quietly.

"No-no-no! My, my, my uncle issa, is, is, he issa Holy-Salty-Knight!!!" Philippa pouted at the man, and crossed her arms stubbornly.

He smiled, charmed by her innocent protectiveness of what she viewed as my honor, and nodded. "That he is, my lady. Still, the Pope has recently declared him a Saint; he is Saint Lyons, Patron Saint of The Lost Ones."

I stared at him for a moment, and numbly handed Philippa to her mother, who was standing next to us, just as confused as me. "Lead me to the Pope." I demanded softly.

The priest nodded and turned, leading me through the crowd a third time, while Reginald caught up swiftly, and nudged me. "What's going on?"

"The Pope has lost his gods-damned mind." I muttered back in Norse, which he'd picked up with insulting ease over our four months together.

He raised an eyebrow at my insulting the Pope, but followed curiously to see what was happening.

The Vatican was more securely fortified than the last time I'd seen it; spikes on the walls, fashioned as crosses, and a peculiar scent on them which made my nose itch.

"Wolfsbane. It is a metabolic poison to your kind, nonlethal. It is mostly to force the Shift, to expose you, and it restricts your healing a bit, in high doses. Burns off too quickly to be of any use; Bram Stoker used it in his books, and the legends about it are mostly fake, though only the Order knows that. Clearly the Vatican is unaware, and wants to prevent another incursion like last time." Reginald murmured, still in Norse.

I nodded, filing that information away, and followed the priest through the gates easily. He watched critically as I stepped onto the most holy of ground, outside Jerusalem, and when I didn't burst into flames or show any reaction, he nodded, smiling, and led us into the building.

"They think I'm a Demon? Why then make me a Saint? Is that a diversion?" I muttered as four Templar's stepped into place around us, leading us in towards the Pope's private study.

Reginald frowned, and surrendered his weapons when commanded. "We are about to find out."

I handed my weapons over as well without being asked, as a show of good faith, and was rewarded with a surprised, but thankful expression from the boy who'd been selected to take our weapons.

He trotted behind us, keeping a distance of about twenty feet at all times, and halted when we reached the door.

It opened, revealing Pope Pious IX, and four cardinals, one of which was Cardinal Birchwood, all seated behind the grand desk. "Enter, please." The pope nodded.

I nodded and walked in, plopping into the seat offered me and kicking my feet up onto his desk, easily within my long legs' reach. "Well! Giovanni, you have some explaining to do! Why am I a Saint, now? Tell me that's a joke, yeah?" I demanded crassly, destroying the cold tension in the room as three of the cardinals shouted at once at my disrespect.

Cardinal Birchwood stood, silencing them, and casually shoved my feet off the desk. "Sit up straight, Lord Benjamin Birchwood-Lyons; you are reflecting badly upon the Order." He commented in just as casual a tone.

I hummed and obeyed, making the Templar's and cardinals all relax, at once. The obedience dispelled a lot of the smell of fear in the room, and I nodded. "As you wish, Cardinal... may I ask then, more respectfully; why am I a Saint, Elder?" I addressed the pope calmly, looking in his eyes.

He chuckled softly. "An admission of payment, I suppose. You obliged me so well, finding my Judas and the spies under my nose, and destroying them; you even left almost no trace, which I approved of. But you made a mistake: the pirates you released from the hold of your ship."

I groaned softly, and nodded. "They spread all sorts of stories before they were hung, didn't they?"

"Beheaded, actually, but yes. And so, to protect your family's reputation, I gave a counter-blow; who is to be believed? The Pope, who says a man is a Saint and protector of Lost Children, and that he has created, of his own funds, the opening of six orphanages each in Rome and Jerusalem? Or a Pirate Eunuch, who says he is a demon who turns into a giant cat and eats the flesh of men?" He shrugged casually.

I inclined my head slowly, sorting through that information as best I could with my head pounding. "I appreciate you protecting my family. I would not accept such help for myself, but for them, I thank you. And I refuse to be baptized, I'd like you to know now."

The cardinals growled, standing, but he raised a hand, and they sat down like obedient little bitches. "Of course, I imagine your Odin would look unkindly on a man who betrayed him in such a way, even for show. You were baptized as a child, either way, according to me, the Pope. As such, it is so."

Reginald blinked slowly, and shifted in his seat. "And so you would lie to your flock?"

The pope sighed. "It is an unholy thing, I know, but the Flock is not ready to understand the things which hunt in the Night; neither the monsters or the Hunters. The Templar's are barely accepted as proper holy knights, for their part in the Crusades, and what would we do to protect ourselves, and the world, when there were no soldiers and knights left? Someone, somewhere, must break the Sacred Commandment; Thou Shalt Not Kill. It is a selfish, sad thing, but it is necessary. And so to protect them, and by extension the Flock, yes, I would break a great many more tenets to do that; it is a martyrs duty to damn his own soul for the others'."

Reginald bowed his head slowly, and the cardinals all nodded, agreeing heartily.

I snorted softly. "It is an easy thing, to break laws in the shadows, when no one knows you do so, and to claim holiness in the light. I thank you for your help, but let us be clear; I find issue with a great many of your god's laws and tenets. I am not a Christian. Paint me as you will, if it helps you, and by extension my family, but remember I answer to different gods, who have very different Laws and much higher expectations."

Pious smiled. "As you say. Go with God, Saint Lyons, protector of the Lost Ones."

I sighed and stood, bowing. "And may His Light Shine upon you, your Holiness."

Manners managed, I turned and left the room, accepting my weapons with a smile from the small boy who was waiting at the end of the hall.

He bowed swiftly, keeping his eyes on the floor, and I frowned. "Keep your eyes level, Boy. There is a difference between Humility and Cowardice."

He looked up, and slowly nodded, standing straight.

"Good. May His Light shine upon you." I smiled, and walked away as he beamed happily, and chirped a reply in Latin.

My weapons were returned to their holsters when I leaned against the wall, waiting for Reginald and his father. I heard them following, silent, an awkward kind of silence that was unbroken and thick enough to hack at with an axe.

I waved them to follow me, when they appeared, and led them to the ship, ignoring the Cardinals attempts at conversation, until they fell short while a rather smugly pleasant smile came upon my face. He was staring up at the massive dragon's head, silent with his mouth agape.

"Your son killed that beast. Alone. Unaided. I protected the children aboard, and he killed it. Thought you'd like a little perspective, to add with whatever report he sent you." I shrugged.

He was silent for a few moments, then he chuckled softly. "I can say I am impressed, son. I didn't expect it from you. To kill a dragon... now that's a rare Hunt, and a challenging one, as well. Perhaps now the others will accept your place within the Order as my Heir."

"You have other sons for that, Father. You know I am not able to handle the responsibilities of that position." Reginald shook his head.

"Responsibilities?" I asked, as the Cardinal frowned, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "And you look the greatest of cowards, Cardinal, do show some backbone? You're making my little brother look bad by association." I added dryly.

Reginald cleared his throat. "The most pressing one is to manage several Issue, which I cannot."

I nodded. "Ahh, I see. Well, I imagine I know a way around that. Lady Jaime has an interesting skill I will explain in some detail, later; if that's the only problem, then you are absolved. If you simply do not wish to be the Cardinal, you may say so, without fear of reproach."

He chewed his answer over for a moment, and shook his head. "It is too great a power to be in my hands. I think I am too inexperienced."

"He who does not wish for power is oftentimes the one most suited for it." The cardinal frowned at us.

"True, but I meant that I needed more experience to consider the job; I cannot very well command men to hunt down a hellhound if I have never done so myself, can I? It would make me, -and the Order,-very much the fool." Reginald laughed softly.

"That seems perfectly logical; either way, the Cardinal has a few decades left in him yet, I think? So it is moot point, for now." I waved the issue off calmly, and turned away, walking over to the gaggle of children around Admiral Lyons.

He laughed loudly at something Henry had said, and patted his head. "Don't worry, Henry; you are of my line, and you will be very big, and very strong! You need only be patient, and eat properly. Now, young Lady Victoria, I imagine your tutoring is going well?" He asked, gazing at her critically.

She nodded. "Yes, grandfather."

"Alex is a hell of a sailor, as well. She's got the eyes for it. She's got Salt." I patted her shoulder, and she grinned up at me, until her mother glared at her. "And you, Minna, let the girl be? We're not in England anymore, and English propriety is the oddest by far of all the cultures I've seen. Get over it. As for you... I promised you all your gifts when we reached Rome, did I not?!?" I grinned at the group, and they squealed, instantly swarming me.

One of the sailors brought down the three chests of goodies I'd procured for them, and I opened the first, which was the smallest. Inside, seven beautifully forged damascene blades lay upon a bed of pressed straw.

I pulled out the first four; small blades by any standard, with a clever mechanism in them to allow the blade to spring out with great force; ideal for those who didn't wish to exert themselves. These I gave to the girls, (though they were entirely unsharpened, the stabbing power would still impale someone,) and nodded seriously. "These are incredibly dangerous, and I must ask that you treat them with respect; blades are fragile creatures. If you disrespect them, they will turn on you in a time of need."

They looked up at me with the appropriate level of awe, and nodded fervently, promising to be respectful.

I nodded and turned back to the case, and pulling out two more blades, these equal in beauty and sharpness to almost no sword I'd ever beheld before. Each was a hand-and-a-half longsword, meaning the hilt was half again as long as the hand of the wielder, allowing for it to be gripped with both hands, and a more powerful strike created.

"These blades are from Damascus, the home of the greatest bladesmiths that have ever lived. They sport elephant-bone hilts, and brass pommels, with hardened-steel guards coated in gold. The blade itself is made of a secret, but quite powerful mix of steel, and they have been properly anointed by Reginald, and as such can kill anything from a man, to a dragon." I grinned and handed the blades to Henry and Alex.

Henry struggled with the weight a bit, having to use two hands to hold it, but with that he held it properly en garde.

Alex, however, held it in one hand, moving it and slicing the air as if it was as light as a feather, or a reed in the wind. It fit her so perfectly well, an extension of her hand and arm.

I nodded, and glared at Minna when she reached for the sword, disapproving of me giving a sword to a girl. She caught my look and backed down, however unwilling. "It suits you." I said when she finally sheathed it, and settled it on her belt, where it hung as if born to do so; which, I supposed, it was.

The last, of slightly different construction, I handed to Reginald. It was a replacement for the Hanger sword he'd ruined; killing the dragon with it had melted the blade into complete disuse. This one was a full sword, but it connected to a brass staff, making a spear for the same (gods forbid,) situation. I'd had a twin to it made, though it was in my room.

"Wait... what's in the other chests?" Charlotte, ever the perceptive one, asked suspiciously.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing much, just some baubles and such I've gathered over the years for you all." I shrugged and opened the chests, revealing the piles of beautiful stained glass, rough-cut gemstones too small or flawed to get proper gems out of, pyrite crystals, and other shiny bits and pieces from the past few years; it wasn't worth much, all together maybe five pounds English Sterling, but it was pretty, and I knew they'd like it.

The younger girls squealed and giggled, as I'd predicted, and I nodded, closing them and directing them to their residence. "You can go through them when you get home, my dear girls, but for now I must bid you adieu; we are needed in Cyprus, according to the Cardinal."

Philippa gasped. "Is you gonna kill another dragon?!? Can-can-Can I come?!?"

I laughed and kissed her forehead, handing her to her mother. "Not this time, little one. Only warriors may hunt dragons, and you are not yet a warrior. Now, Au revior, my beauties." I kissed each of them on the head, and saluted lazily to the admiral, before boarding the ship again.

As I reached the top, I looked down at Alex. "OI! Are you coming or what? Cap'n doesn't like to be kept waiting!"