A disgraced and exiled noble, stripped of his status, spends his days drinking and whoring in the exotic jungle colonies. When pressed to pay his debts he gets entangled in a deadly plot involving deceit, murder, and the dark magic of the deep jungle. Published in Storyhack Action & Adventure Issue 0

Part II

"Presenting the Honorable and Distinguished Lord Valantijn, Sixth Marquess of Lahnsted," Bartholomeus announced holding open the flimsy door of the rickshaw that brought them to the Governors Estate.

Valan stepped out into the sticky jungle night. He was wearing his finest outfit, dark leather overcoat, ruffled sleeves, and tall boots. His blond hair, well combed and powdered, held up by a velvet bow. A ceremonial dueling rapier hung from his belt. Sweat was already forming into heavy beads across his brow. He casually patted his overcoat feeling the familiar outline of his prized dueling pistols, readied with flint and shot in case of an emergency.

"You look like a true Imperial Lord," said Bartholomeus.

"I am one, well at least I was one."

The Governor's plantation sat perched above the port city, carved out of the wild jungle that dominated the rest of the island. The massive colonial house was surrounded by a garden filled with lush tropical trees, hanging vines, and a multitude of colorful flowers. The garden was the Governor's pride. He delighted in showing of his wealth to every visiting merchant and Imperial dignitary.

Tonight the garden was filled with revelers. Colonial women dressed in the extravagant Empire fashion chatted among the vines while sipping from crystal glasses. Their pale faces and high powdered wigs a stark contrast to the dark-skinned locals dutifully standing by to serve drinks.

Valan leaned in whispering to Bartholomeus, "Go work amongst the servants. Mingle, find out anything that might be of use to us. I'm going to get myself a drink."

He grabbed a crystal of wine from a passing servant and began to stroll through the garden. Even at night the humid jungle heat was oppressive and did not agree with current fashion. All of the ladies, dressed in their massive layered gowns were drenched in sweat. Yet they dutifully pretended to be enjoying themselves. The gentlemen appeared even more miserable in their heavy overcoats.

Valan made his rounds, moving between groups of revelers making small talk. Most of them were new money colonials. Company merchants who made their fortunes on the Kaff trade. Important in Angkasa but considered uppity back in the Empire. The conversation consisted of ship schedules, market prices, and rumors of revolts from distant colonies.

Making his way through the garden, he came across a small marble stage covered in flowering vines. Two beautiful Angk women were performing some sort of traditional dance. Their bodies moved rhythmically while a third woman sat cross-legged, chanting a guttural, melancholy song. In each hand, the dancing women balanced a fast spinning orb on long shoots of what appeared to polished bamboo. He stood watching, mesmerized by their precise, serpentine movements.

"Beautiful isn't it?" a voice behind him whispered.

Turning around he came face to face with a stunning dark haired woman. She wore a dress styled in the simple local fashion and her long hair hung down past her shoulders. But it was her necklace that grabbed Valans attention. A large, coal-black, gem of exquisite quality perfectly held by a silver chain. A piece of jewelry of this caliber was easily worth enough gold to buy several trips off this island, if not a ship itself.

"Lord Valan Marquess of Lahnstad," he said, giving her a small bow.

"Lady Arabella Jansen."

Valan somewhat remembered mention that the Governor had a daughter but he never imagined her to be a gorgeous young woman. He pictured her one of the overfed, crass colonial women who fancied themselves royalty and mistreated the locals. Arabella was nothing like them. Immediately something about her stood out as different. Her dark eyes, her tanned skin, unlike the other women she looked like she belonged here on Angkasa.

"Are you enjoying my father's party Lord Valan?"

"It's fine. Honestly, I'm not one for heartfelt conversation about trade regulations."

"I find the whole thing dreadfully boring. My father likes to pretend he's important by entertaining every company nobody that passes through."

"Your father is important," Valan said, interested in the conversation. "He's the Governor of one of the Empires most profitable colonies."

Arabellas gaze turned towards the dancers. "My father has no real power, the company runs this island. He is just a figurehead here to entertain, no different than the native servants."

The chanting woman's song became louder. The dancer's movements more intense and frenetic. Suddenly the spinning orbs they balanced began shining brighter than torches. The orb light had an organic quality that reminded Valan of the fire beetles he used to chase as a child. He had no idea what trick they used to make the illumination but it was flawlessly performed.

"Khat-En orb dancer," said Arabella, answering his unspoken question. "It's jungle magic, practiced by the local women. My mother was the best orb dancer on Angkasa."

"Your mother, she learned from the natives?"

"She was a native. My father took a native servant for a wife."

Of course, he thought. This explained her exotic looks. His instincts were right, unlike the other women she did belong on Angkasa. This revelation made her even more desirable.

"So how long do these parties last," he asked.

"Until everybody gets disgustingly gorged on food and completely pissed drunk on wine."

Valan gulped his remaining wine and tossed the empty glass over his shoulder. "Well, looks like I have a bit of eating and drinking to do. But I keep getting distracted from my task by all the beauty surrounding me."

"You won't find any real beauty here in this garden. The true beauty is out in the jungle where the Kaff trees grow."

"I have never been out there, maybe one day."

"Maybe one day I can take you myself," she said smiling.

Valan stood still, looking into her eyes. They were dark like her hair and reminded him of a wild animal. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the night with her. She was intoxicating. But, he remembered his purpose. He needed to find something of value. Something to steal worth enough gold to pay off his debt and get himself and Bartholomeus off this island.

The silence was broken when Captain Henrik walked up holding two filled glasses. "Lady Arabella, I brought you a drink," he said, handing her the glass.

"Henrik, thank you. It's been so long. I heard your ship was in port and hoped you would visit me tonight," she said and leaned in to give him a hug.

Valan stiffened up and casually straightened the lapels on his coat. Of course, he thought, finally he comes across an interesting woman who wasn't a complete bore and she ends up somehow involved with an idiot like Henrik. Either way, the whole point of being here tonight was to rob her father, so any long term engagement would have been strictly hypothetical.

"Well, I will leave the two of you alone," he said, giving Arabella a small bow and ignoring Henrik.

"Oh no Lord Valan, please stay," she said. "Have you met Captain Henrik?"

"Of course. Who hasn't heard of Captain Henrik. Our friendship goes back before coming to the colonies," he said, grinning.

"You are not my friend," Henrik exploded, unable to hide his irritation. "You are nothing but a debased vagrant, a disgrace to your now meaningless title."

"I rather be a vagrant than a cheap imperial whore selling herself to the highest bidder for..."

Before Valan finished, Henrik red-faced, lunged and grabbed him by the neck. "I'm going to kill you!" he spat.

With a well-practiced motion, he reached into his coat and pulled out one of his dueling pistols, shoving the barrel between Henrik's ribs.

"Are you now Henrik," he said, attempting a smile. Hopefully, the idiot would fall for the bluff, swallow his pride, and back off. While the idea of shooting an asshole like Henrik was attractive. Killing somebody at the Governor's party, in front of the Governors daughter, would definitely get in the way of actually robbing the Governor.

"Enough," said Arabella, "displays of male bravado bore me."

Her calm, commanding demeanor caught him by surprise. He lowered his pistol and relaxed his stance.

"The two of you can continue this nonsense some other time."

"My greatest apologies Lady Arabella. I don't know what got into me," said Henrik. He stepped back and began to nervously adjust his uniform.

Valan bowed excusing himself. He needed to get out of this situation. It was time to regain his bearings, get some loot, and get off this forsaken island.

#

Valan spent several hours conversing with other guests, eating food, and trying his best to stay sober. Sometime in the night Governor Jensen came out and gave a short speech welcoming everybody, toasting the Empire, and to the prosperity of the Kaff trade.

Wearing a newly acquired servant uniform, Bartholomeus approached Valan with a silver platter loaded with wine glasses.

"Wine sir?"

"What's the deal?" whispered Valan, as he took a glass off the tray.

"The Governor's bedchamber is on the second floor, facing the jungle. The window is left unlocked and wide open. I walked around and noticed that thick vines cover that side of the house. You should have no trouble climbing right in. Once inside there should be a large vanity filled with jewelry that used to belong to his wife."

"Guards, servants?"

"The servants were ordered to avoid the second floor in order to allow discrete rendezvous between the guests."

"Excellent. Give me half hour. I will go in, grab whatever I can get my hands on, then make my way to the far edge of the garden."

Valan staggered through the party, taking the time to smile and engage several groups of revelers in simple banter before excusing himself. By this time the party was winding down and most of the servants were focused on keeping the inebriated guests happy. It was easy for him to slip unseen towards the back of the estate.

He walked slowly, making sure that he didn't attract any attention. Once he made his way around to the back end of the house he was alone. Above him, on the second floor, he saw the large double windows, wide open, and conveniently crawling with vine just like Bartholomeus described.

Right as he was about to start the climb he heard a pair of whispering voices making their way towards him. He dropped down, rolling underneath a large tropical hedge.

"I will see you soon my love," said a voice he recognized as Henrick's. Followed by a soft feminine reply that had to belong to Arabella. He held his breath and held his body frozen until he felt sure they were out of sight before he rolled from underneath the hedge.

The second floor of the estate was dark, no light shone in any of the windows. He put on his tough climbing gloves and started making his way up the side of the house. Climbing the thick jungle vines was easy and when he reached the opened window he rolled inside taking care to make no sound.

He stood motionless, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. The room was spacious, its walls decorated with tall framed paintings that he could not make out in the sparse light. Dominating the room was a massive bed canopied with soft fabric, intended to keep the insects at bay. To the right of the bed, he saw his target, a large hand crafted vanity.

He took several slow, deliberate steps. His soft boots silent across the carpeted floor. Reaching the vanity he saw what looked like a lady's jewelry box. If it held anything comparable to Arabella's necklace he could easily pay his debt and get off this island.

Feeling uneasy he scanned the room one more time. The moonlight coming through the window illuminated a bit of the bed allowing him to see a bare foot sticking out from beneath the bed covering. Valan froze. His heart pounded in his chest. The Governor was asleep in the bed and he was standing less than three feet away.

He gently raised the lid on the box, keeping one eye on the sleeping figure. No movement. No sound. The old man was a deep sleeper. The jewelry box was full of necklaces, rings, hair pins, and a large brooch. He grabbed a handful and shoved it into his coat pocket, not worrying about the value.

Suddenly behind him he heard the metal latch clanking. Somebody was trying to open the bedroom door. Instinctively he dropped to the ground and rolled underneath the large bed. The door opened and light poured in for a few seconds then the intruder stumbled in and closed the door.

"Arabella," slurred a heavily inebriated Henrik, "I'm here.."

From underneath the bed, Valan could see Henrik's expensive boots as he shuffled around the room. The idiot was fumbling in the dark. Then he saw his coat and shirt drop onto the ground. Henrik was undressing.

Valan regretted not shooting him earlier. He was going to wake the Governor and bring down the entire household. Some servant was going to find him hiding under the bed and the entire plan would be ruined. Even his tenuous noble status could not save him from the noose if he was caught with his pockets filled with stolen jewelry.

He had to make a decision. Come out from underneath the bed, overpower Henrik, and make his way out the window to safety. Or, stay put and hope that the idiot would realize he walked into the wrong room and get out before waking up the Governor.

He put his palms flat on the ground. Tensed his muscles, and prepared to roll out. He would spring to his feet and hopefully take Henrik by surprise.

Right as he was about to put his plan into action the large door slammed open and light poured in. He froze, every muscle in his body wound up. Sweat ran down the side of his face. This was it. Hopefully, Bartholomeus would get away to safety.

"Henrik!" he heard Arabella. "What are you doing in here?"

Continue to Part III