^^ Gerald Keeps ^^

— Ben —

"-the solution of potassium and carbon, when applied to a temperature change of at least 20* in an upwards direction, would then create a reaction; what would that reaction be?" Reginald was testing me again on my knowledge of chemistry, and I found myself hopelessly confused.

Had he spoken English, I would understand, having paid attention more often after his blazing display against the pirates. But, He used the Latin terms for everything, and my Latin was still horrible. "I think... potassium is a base component of... salts, yes? Potassium and Carbon... is a cold mixture, and it sucks away heat? Or it suffocates it, by releasing carbon dioxide, meaning the fire doesn't have air."

He nodded. "A bit basic, but yes; Potassium Carbonate is indeed a dry component in fire extinguishing. It is also a leavening agent for quick breads and hardtack, and the galley has a decent stock of it."

Before he could ask his next question, the lookout, far above, whistled sharply. My new hearing, -incredibly inconvenient when the crew decided to make free of each other in 'privacy',- cringed at the high-pitches sound, like a dog to a dog-whistle. "Ware Land!!! Sighting of Harbor!!!" I recognized Gerald's voice, and smiled at the thought of the wizened old sailor, as well as Rome.

"It seems we're pulling into Rome, Reginald! Come, you'll want to see the harbor before the rain hits it! It's been years since I was here, but the Mediterranean Fleet must be docked here for supplies... or maybe the storm drove them into port?" I glanced at Cleo, whose power over the water had been slowly returning to the levels of before my 'transformation'. Apparently, she'd sacrificed some good amount of her own power to make it a less painful transition.

I still had trouble, -even a few nights later with a changing every night as the moon tried its best to peek out at us all,- believing it all was real. Regardless, I worked on control, treating it like a muscle to flex, and I'd quickly learned how to shift on command, and with much less pain than the first time.

Reginald followed me eagerly up onto the Deck, and then up into the top of the rigging, to see out past the storm clouds above us. With Cleo's power so constrained in this sea, it was a pronounced circle, like a miniature hurricane that followed us wherever we went, barely five miles wide.

Once properly elevated, he gasped at the view of the resplendent harbor, full up of ships of all walks, though none nearly as large at our own IronHeart. A deep rumble sounded beneath, as the screws turned off, and we relied on sail alone to bring us in.

"Off with you, boys... and you may wish to press your nice shirt, sonny..." Gerald had found us on the deck and nudged me privately, making me raise an eyebrow until comprehension dawned; I muttered a thanks, following his advice swiftly, as always. Gerald Keeps was a Soothsayer, and best obeyed, when he chose to make events known.

Ships hurried to move from our way, and luckily the sea here was a drop-off, meaning we could go flush to the dock, and drop a very long gangplank, which was very rarely, -if ever,- used. It was made all of ridged, grooved metal, to prevent the warping of the wooden gangplanks and also feet slipping in the rain, and it reached handsomely, fastening itself to the dock to prevent it from moving.

Almost immediately, the ship and docks burst with activity, and our cargo was unloaded in less than an hour, onto the docks. The dock workers were a great degree more lazy and slow than our Salts, and so taking it from the docks to the warehouses took much longer than it should have, but it reached eventually, and then came the dreaded reunion.

Reginald was puzzled as to why I would be so reluctant to accept the Doctor's invitation to join the Admiral of the Mediterranean Fleet in supper with him, as a courtesy and the manners required of a gentleman.

He was even more puzzled when he saw me in a full, formal shirt and jacket, -hastily re-fitted to me by our tailor,- wearing pressed clothes and, of course, my ever-present weapons, sharpened and polished and gleaming, my new, elaborately beautiful sword and the expensive, impressive revolver visible and adding to my air of formality, though the long bone dagger added a roguish air I quite liked.

I answered his questions with a non-communicative grunt, and sat at the table the doctor had set on his balcony for the meeting grumpily.

Then the doctor appeared, silencing him as an inordinately massive man entered behind him, slouching as I had always needed to when passing through doorways.

Reginald glanced between us, noticing the long black hair, and stern expression, with the same eyes as me, now that my own had gained the amber flecks of what I'd thought to be Cleo's influence.

I stood slowly, even in height with him now, and waited as he inspected me from head to toe. His gaze lingered on the sword and gun, then the bone dagger, and he nodded slowly. "You've grown, boy." His voice was not unlike mine, growling deep from within his broad chest.

I stood straighter, and growled silently. "I am now Sir Benjamin Cooper of the Order of the Rubrum Christi, Lord Admiral Lyons."

He grinned slowly, and laughed out loud, in my face. "And he has grown teeth!!! I compliment you, Doctor, for your work! Now who is this, here?" He stepped past me, towards Reginald, and the Doctor grabbed my fist before I could club the rotten bastard upon the skull.

Reginald looked between us slowly, -I could sense his movements clearly, even behind me, a very disorienting sensation,- and stood, bowing. "I am Lord Reginald Birchwood, of Loch Merit and Loch Venus, Sir Knight of the Order of the Red Cross, son of Cardinal Birchwood of Loch Merit, of the same Order. And you would be... Lord Admiral Lyons, commander and Admiral of the Mediterranean Fleet?"

He nodded his head in a bow. "Indeed, I am! And how did my bastard find such illustrious company?"

Reginald tensed, and at once his tone went from confused to absolutely forbidding, making even my hair stand on end. "You will check your tone when speaking of a knight of my order, and a brother-in-arms as well, Lord Admiral! Your presence here is invited, and invitations can easily be rescinded! Sir Benjamin Cooper is a valued and well-proven gentleman and man of honor, even so far as to have saved my very life; I will not have his name besmirched, not even by one who shares his blood. I trust I have made myself perfectly clear?"

The doctor, for once lost for words, stayed silent, as my birth father stared at the small man with a growing look of respect. After a tense moment of absolute silence, he inclined his head slowly. "I meant no disrespect, Sir Knight... and I will offer no further dubious quips, as it clearly is too low a humor to find you amused by it. I will ask more politely, then, as my interest is unanswered; how did my natural-born son come to be a Knight in a valued Order, and in company of the Cardinal-Knight's Eldest Son?"

Reginald tapped his fingers slowly, the only outward sign of his rage, though his heart rate was still pulsing rapidly, and I could smell his adrenaline from here. After a moment, he answered. "I was hunting a Black Dog, and found myself surprised by it perhaps sooner than I'd expected; Benjamin killed it with his bare hands, saving my throat, and gaining a chance at entering the order by my father's gratitude. As a note, We are now brothers, and as such his birth is considered no longer Natural. He is a Birchwood, my brother, and no longer yours to claim. He may claim you, if he so chooses, and take on your name of Lyons, if the fancy strikes him, but not the reverse." He couldn't keep a slightly smug tone from his voice at the end, and I turned around in surprise.

Doctor Cole cleared his throat as the admiral stared, and gestured at the table. "I will pour the tea, if everyone would like to be seated?"

Manners demanded I seat myself, and so I did, with some distaste, sit between my blood-parent and my true father, Doctor Cole, across from Reginald and Adrian, who had remained silent, until she didn't. Her nails, -no, Claws; long, wicked, and lethal,- scraped the table slowly, as she stared down the Admiral, and she was joined by Cleo, appearing on her shoulders in her Mau form, and glaring savagely at him.

Tea began tensely, no one speaking, and eventually the giant of a man sighed. "Oh damn it all to Hel; I am sorry to have poked at you so, Benjamin! I have not seen you for seven years, now, and you have not written at all! I have been so damned loathsome with worry, ever since I heard of the trouble in Gibraltar, and no 'Lyons' amongst the survivors, nor fuck-all in replies to my letters... I suppose it's impossible some pirates could have bested you, -as I see you are now awakened fully to your heritage,- but I worried anyhow!"

Adrian and Reginald, having never met him before, stared at him in surprise and confusion, while the Doctor simply stared disapprovingly at the use of curses at his table.

I gave him my full attention, and set the beautiful sword across his plate. "Do you recognize that blade?"

He gazed at it for a moment, and nodded. "Yes."

"From where?" I pressed, now knowing the answer.

He cleared his throat slowly. "From my Son, whom I had it made for. And you have brought me his ship as well, I see."

Reginald choked on his tea, and Adrian pounded his back slowly, staring between us.

"No, it is mine now. Seized from pirates, in Gibraltar. Pirates paid to kill us, and sink the IronHeart. 80,000 pounds, they were paid. A royal sum." I frowned.

His eyes widened, and then they seemed to glow, and a feral light entered them. "Then He is dead."

"Unless He is the pirate captain in our hold, yes." I nodded easily.

He sprang up with not a care for propriety, and leapt over the railing, towards the Brig.

"Hmph. See how he cares for his other squealing brats?" I muttered uncharitably, and followed a bit more calmly, belting the sword on again.

He was in the Brig when I arrived, holding the captain against the wall by his throat, his feet dangling and kicking slightly.

"What did you do with the captain of your stolen ship?!?" He snarled savagely.

"S-not-stolen!-a-Gift!" The poor man wheezed through his grip.

"Leave off the prisoners, Admiral, they've been gelded and castrated already, there's not much you can threaten them with." I sighed carelessly.

He dropped the man with a growl, and rounded on me. "And were there any signs of theft? A forged note of sale?"

"Yes, several. If you'd read the entire report, looking for survivors as you professed you did quite in earnest, you would know that." I responded dryly, and he flinched.

"Ze ship... and ze sword... both were gifts." The French captain coughed in accented English.

"From whom?" I asked patiently, ignoring the growling man entirely.

"Lord Lyons, he called himself... he said that you carried dispatches for the war in Crimea; dispatches full of Russian War Plans. Incredibly loose-lipped, he was, for an English Spy." He chuckled wryly, and coughed.

The admiral tensed, and then gritted his teeth audibly. "Where is he?"

The man sighed, dragging himself into a sitting position slowly. "He sailed for the Black Sea, he said, in a messenger's ship."

"And his face? What did he look like?" I asked, to confirm.

He looked between us, and a look of horror and recognition filled his face when the Admiral's face came into the torchlight. "He is your son? You are Admiral Lyons?" He asked softly, and then closed his mouth determinedly.

"Mm. Well, you're free to go, as we are now in Rome. You are branded a Pirate, and I think we shall add Spy and Traitor, as you knowingly aided an effort of our enemies to withhold enemy intelligence from Britain." I nodded, and whistled up the guards, commanding it be done immediately, to all those who had survived the procedure; a meager 35, out of the original 150 crew.

Then I returned to tea, with the admiral trailing behind me.

"Now! That's done, so let us talk of the return of a personal 48-gun frigate to your Fleet?" I kickstarted the conversation, as he settled slowly into his chair. Doctor Cole frowned at me, but this once I ignored him, taking no secret pleasure in the admiral's equal parts rage and pain.

The admiral started, brought out of his muttering thoughts, and sighed. "She was a £68,000 vessel, and though I imagine her interior was stripped of anything worthwhile, she is still worth £50,000, and more if her engines are in good condition."

"We've done all the required maintenance, and she is running smoothly." Adrian opined, and then sipped her tea calmly, as amused as I was, apparently.

"I apologize, who are you, madam?" He asked, confused.

"I am Captain Adrian Cole, of the IronHeart; you are on my ship." She smirked.

He blinked slowly, and then closed his mouth around a protest. Women were not allowed on naval vessels, but this was a private vessel, and therefore she was free to do as she wished, however confusing it might be to him.

After a moment, he nodded. "Well... Captain, I appreciate your crew making the effort. Of course, the admiralty will pay you all promptly, for the ship and any valuables you may have shelled from her and her fellows? The report spoke of three, all destroyed, all hands lost?"

"Correct." She nodded, approving coolly at his proper use of titles after only one introduction.

"Alright... it will be done. I will meet with your dispersing officer, and collect the Loot, have it properly looked at, and then within the day you will have your Prize in your accounts as credit; obviously we cannot give you upwards of 100,000 pounds in coin, not even with the support of the admiralty and the local Papal Government." He sighed.

"The loot itself will suffice for that; only the prize for the cargo and the captured ship itself, as well as the four ships' and their crew's bounties, will require your intervention." The doctor stated crisply, and waved a hand. "Now let us eat, yes? I've acquired the recipe to a delicacy, in Spain; it is called Paella, and it is quite fresh, to my specifications."

A few of the cooks appeared, so rarely above decks except to take the air, and placed a steaming platter in the center of the table. It seemed a mixture of rice and sea-creatures, and I immediately was happy to not be Christian; they were denied the pleasures of eating shellfish.

I glanced at Reginald, and hummed. "Are you bound by the Christian tenet to not eat of Shellfish, Reginald?"

He shook his head. "I am not, nor any religious tenet beyond the Order's Laws; these make no mention of shellfish."

"Good... can I ask a more awkward question, Reginald? You may disdain to answer it, if you like, but I am quite curious." I hummed.

He nodded. "Ask as you like, Brother, though I shudder to think what you would call awkward." He smirked at me, amused, and Adrian and I laughed, while Doctor Cole and the Admiral clapped softly, the perfect gentleman.

"How does the order view men such as I, who take of other men and women in our beds, in the Roman way?" I asked bluntly.

He blinked slowly while Adrian froze, and chewed the answer over slowly in his mind for a minute or so, as I casually served myself with some of the delicious-smelling food. "Well... it is not even mentioned, in our tenets, though it is by British Law... I will be quite honest with you, it is simply unwise to be free with that knowledge, Ben. While not forbidden in any real sense, there is a large amount of prejudice against friendly men; it bears remembrance that while the Order is Outside of normal Society, our members are still a part of that society, when not hunting." He explained haltingly, and with a great deal of blushing, seemingly both from anger and embarrassment.

I nodded. "I see. Well, amongst the society of this ship, it is a wholly normal thing; in fact, it is considered queer to think on someone badly in any way for anything like it. Perhaps it is this degree of safety aboard the ship that has made me quite lazy with protecting it as a secret."

He raised an eyebrow at me slowly, and then blanched his features when I smiled kindly back. "O-Oh... well, when not aboard, you must remember that it is usually a capital crime, and accusations of such crimes, even unfounded, can ruin even powerful men."

I shrugged. "Yes, Yes, I will remember. It is some shame that the Order does not see it as the IronHeart does, but they are only men, and as such are prone to odd ways. But I hope I have not turnt your stomach, and ruined the meal? We should eat while this delicious meal still steams!" I chuckled, and dig in with some enthusiasm, prompting Adrian to follow, though with slightly more manners.

Doctor Cole and Admiral Lyons sighed and ate with much more grace and etiquette, and Reginald did not touch the food for quite a while, looking quite pale. After a few minutes, Cleo climbed to his shoulder, meowing privately in his ear. He started, and then smiled at her, petting her ears and beginning to eat.

"I have meant to ask about that... whatever is that cat doing at the table?" The Admiral asked, gazing at her quizzically.

She slowly turned her eyes towards him, great baleful, shining golden eyes. "I go where I please, RUNT!!!" She hissed softly, and he froze.