Henry Smart took a deep breath of Garame air, nothing smelled quite like it: salty with a mix of desperation. He was looking for the witch that lived in the slums when he was boy. Normally not one to put stock in tarots or in the witch, he had been feeling uneasy about the journey and was going to find some semblance of peace. Besides she was most likely dead. Spotting a boy selling two day old newspapers, Henry called out: “Kid, I have a silver penny if you can take me to the old fortune teller”.
The child put the newspapers under his arm, adjusted his hat and said "Lord luv a duck! I know 'er an' I can take yew there. Make sure yew keep up cause i don't have the time of day. I need ter make a livin' after all.”
With that they were off, running down the twisting streets of Garame, and up the back alleys that reminded Henry of his childhood. They were making their way deeper into the older part of the slums. Most of the buildings were barely standing and the whole place felt abandoned. The boy led Henry through another an alley that looked strangely familiar, and stopped near what seemed to be a shop.
The shop was abandoned, but beside it was a sign that read “Tarot readings and traditional medicine”. On closer inspection one could see the small stairwell that led beneath the store, and one could even make out a faint light on the other side.
“Here she is, just down them apples and pairs. I’ll take me duff an' go now. I don't like stayin' around 'ere. Nuff said, yeah?”
“Fair enough,” With his money in hand, the kid said a hasty thanks and ran back down the alley, leaving Henry alone outside the old store. Taking a deep breath, he walked down the steps and pushed the door open. An overwhelming smell of incense rolled over him causing him to cough.
“Is that you Victor? No can’t be, your dead. Come here, so I can see you” a harsh squeaky voice called out. Henry stepped in the room, there was a fire burning even though outside it was hot. Beside the fire sat a leathery old looking woman wearing a black shawl. Henry knew though she couldn’t be past forty.
Gritting his teeth he greeted her “Hello Granny Nash”. He hated the old witch. She was sweating heavily and smelled like rotting meat even through the incense.
She narrowed her eyes at him, “And who are you supposed to be? A soldier lost in the slums? No, just one that forgot.”
“It’s Henry”
“The one that’s dead or alive?” she chuckled. “Come to visit dear old Granny in her hole? If you want your fate I hope you remembered the rule.” She touched her nose “knowledge for knowledge.”
Reaching into his coat Henry drew a book and tossed it on to her lap. Picking it up, she stuck her nose in the middle and inhaled deeply. Satisfied, she put down the book and moved away from the fire, to a small table in the center of the room. There she took a seat and motioned Henry to do the same. Taking an ancient looking deck of tarots from the table, she shuffles them and places one down.
“No need to tell granny the question, the cards will know what to show.” The first card was the Chariot, “I sense an external struggle, a struggle that you will face.” The Knight of Swords was drawn next and was placed left of the Chariot. “This card is courageous, strong, skillful, but relies on other cards for a clear message. Honor is the cause of the question.” She then placed the Hangmen right of the Chariot and smiled. “Circumstances will change and a sacrifice will have to be made, maybe in vain.” She then drew the Three of Swords and placed it beneath the Chariot. “My little Lord of Sorrow, the losses you have experienced are not yet over. Your past is not yet done with you, and is the reason you face this journey. But you are afraid to lose another and this has to change.” Drawing Judgement she placed it above the Chariot. The pattern was revealed and the cards made a cross. “Taking the right actions will lead you to be rebirthed and joy. But it’s dangerous to go alone. Seek the Hierophant and the wolf. It is only with their help that you will be reborn and survive. Take this my Jack of Swords.” Handing Henry the Page of Swords, Granny Nash starts to laugh, and chanted.
“On the day my daughter gave birth to another Smart, a second Henry. A shooting star crossed the sky. It left behind a star called Henry. Where were the three wise men? They had missed it. They followed the wrong star. They missed the birth of the one and only Henry Smart. The first child to live and the only one still alive, he was roaming the streets when his mother died. His brothers dead because no book could cure his cough....”
Henry got up and left, her words trailing after him. On the street Henry looked up at the night sky and sought out the star sharing his name. It was shining brightly like a beacon, taunting him. He yelled “MY NAME IS HENRY SMART” at the star and even at the sky that cradled it like a child. He yelled until he could yell no more. On his knees, with his hands touching the dirt, he felt movement. Shutting his eyes he concentrated on the movement beneath him. It was water. He started to feel it in his bones; it was pulling at him, whispering in his ear. So he listened, letting it lead him, through the streets, the alleys, and to the waterway. The waterway was magical, tiny streams flowed gently under bridges and past platforms made of stone. Henry lay on a platform surrounded by water, and was just before the paths that the water took to reach the rest of the city. There he let the water lull him to sleep and make him forget his worries, if just for one night.
The next day Henry could still feel the water rushing far below him, making it hard to concentrate at the task in hand. He was watching the ceremony, trying to push Granny Nash’s words out of his head and consequently was on edge. But no matter how hard he tried he could not stop wondering what she meant by seeking out the Hierophant and the wolf. It was then when Henry spotted a man leaving one of the ships and making his way, almost unnoticed, through the crowd and on to the stage. The man matched the description of Gareth Finch perfectly. The mood on stage grew visibly tenser as Gareth arrived, and even more so after he said a few words that seemed to be directed to the Queen. Henry smiled; the look on her face was priceless. An announcement was made, people cheered and started heading to their respected ships. Henry jumped down into the mass and went to join his fellow marines.
From old to young, navy to mercenary, and green to seasoned. The face of every marine told a different story. People from every walk of life and all with a common enemy: pirates. Henry did not hold a special hatred against pirates or the Hangmen in particular. Having little experience with them, Henry felt detached from the marines and turned to face the ship. It was beautiful to be sure, and as he gazed lingered an urge to learn everything about it grew inside him. Being so enthralled with ship he almost missed the order for everyone to board and set sail.
He had started following the marines below deck, but chose instead to wander the upper deck of the ship. Near the main deck he noticed a large man pulling a smaller woman who looked to be in pain. Drawn to the couple, Henry started moving closer to them. He recognized the man as the sailing master as one of the marines had pointed out. First noticing the bruises that were all over her arms, then the ink stains on her hands that were absent from his, and the scratch marks around the key hole of his pocket watch. From there it was not hard to come to the conclusion that man was a drunk and violent towards his wife. She was most likely the true sailing master and that drunken fraud was using her. He took a deep breath to calm himself and swore to talk to the Captain about dealing with the man. Deep in thought Henry went below deck to the marine’s quarters and started setting up his gear.
So deep in though was Henry that he did not notice Gareth observing them until he called out and gave his speech. So surprised, bothered, and unused to being on a ship Henry barely gave a suitable response to Gareth who had greeted everyone personally. With his wits mostly back Henry sought out the Captain and caught him before he left. Gareth seemed to be just finishing talking to a young red headed marine, all Henry caught of their conversation was “You could very well determine our first target.” Intrigued, but not one to ease drop on higher rank, Henry announces himself.
“Captain” Gareth turned around to face Henry “Corporal Henry Smart, formally of the 13th Light Infantry Division, assigned here by her majesty Lucilla the II and by her right at your disposal.” Henry gave a short military salute and pressed on “I would like to talk to you about one of your crew, more specially your sailing master” Henry's tone and posture was becoming less formal with each word. “He’s a drunken danger to his wife and this crew sir and needs to be dealt with. I volunteer to make sure he doesn’t danger anyone else.” Realizing that he had raised his voice, almost made a demand of a superior officer, and not so subtly offered to kill a crew member, Henry lowered his head in shame. “I apologize for my outburst sir; I just can’t get use to the dam rocking of the ship. I hope this doesn’t reflect poorly on me, I’m usually in better control of myself. Any decision concerning crew and ship are your own.” Henry stops talking and braces himself for Garrets response.