I need a hero! [Closed]

[Mareyland]

[Closed to myself and Ixania - no posting by any other players]

Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night, I toss and I turn
And I dream of what I need
I need a hero!
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure, and it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life

On the streets of Caroline, the largest port city in the Republic of Mareyland, a woman was running for her life.

Running for her life was a novel experience to Katherine Perkins - Katy, to most who knew her. As the daughter of the pastor of the Church of Saint Martha, one of the oldest and most prestigious Presbyterian Elkesaite churches in the city, she had been fortunate to experience little in the way of real terror in her life. Her greatest concerns, since entering the realm of womanhood five years ago, had been navigating the social life of the city. That was partially what had brought her to this point - rushing down the streets of the harbor district as fast as she could in her heeled shoes, desperately looking for someone who she could trust to help her escape her pursuers.

As a pastor’s daughter, even more than usual, she was expected to present the model of morality and virtue. Everyone agreed that Katy Perkins had a good heart, and she was eager to find ways to do good and help out the less fortunate. She had joined the Daughters of Mareyland Benevolent Society as soon as she was eligible. The chapters of the Society across the country brought together the cream of the local womanhood under the banner of charitable work and moral reform. In Caroline, their principal object of their benevolence were the many foreign immigrants who had come to Mareyland seeking a better life than they could find in their squalid homelands.

Usually, women of the Society did not venture deep into these neighborhoods. They usually held their events at one of the overburdened churches located amid the overcrowded tenement housing, with a contingent of police on hand to protect them from any criminals that might seek to prey on the gathering. When they raised funds, the money was entrusted to others for delivery. Katy had read enough horror stories in the Daily Banner to have a healthy fear of these neighborhoods, and the people who lived in them.

But her friend had felt differently. Amy Everheart had struck up something of a rapport with a woman named Fiona who frequently appeared at their charity events. She was a Morleyan, with a thick accent that Katy could sometimes barely understand even though they spoke the same language. She had been absent from the last two events, and Amy had become worried. When Amy told Katy that she was planning to go into the harbor district neighborhood where Fiona lived to check on her, Katy had been horrified. When she could not persuade Amy to give the idea up, she decided the best way to help her friend was to accompany her.

They’d taken Amy’s carriage to the address she had been given. Escorted by Amy’s coachman, who Katy had seen checking a pistol in a holster hidden beneath his overcoat, they’d walked up the stairs and into the foyer of the building. It was there that Katy’s nightmare had begun.

Amy, fearless and maybe a little naive, had approached a group of rough-looking men and asked after Fiona. Their leader had the olive skin of a man from Vincetori, and the accent to match.

“You’re looking for Fiona, eh?” The man fiddled with a toothpick held between his teeth as he spoke. “As a matter of fact, darling, so am I. She’s got a debt to pay me, and I intend to collect.”

Amy had offered to help settle Fiona’s debts, but this had only lit the spark of greed in the man’s eyes. When he looked the two women over, Katy had been reminded of her last visit to the zoo, and the tiger from Pagon. It had that same predatory look in its eyes as it paced around its enclosure.

“Rich men’s daughters, eh?” The Vincetori man sneered, then barked a laugh. “Well if your fathers are so rich, they’ll pay good money to get you back. You’re going to come with us, ladies!”

One of the other men had seized Amy’s arm, only to recoil back as Amy slapped him across the face. Amy’s coachman had reached under his coat for the pistol, but before he could draw the weapon one of the criminals had rushed over and shoved the man into the wall. There was a sickening noise as the back of his skull slammed into the brick, and he slid limply to the floor. Amy had tried to keep up her fight, but the men outnumbered and outmatched her. She only had time to shout, “Run Katy! Get help!” before one of the swarthy fiends had clapped a hand over her mouth. Her fierce, if mostly ineffectual, resistance had momentarily startled the criminals, giving Katy a chance to flee before they could grab her too. As she flew out the doors of the tenement house, she heard the criminal leader bark orders to his men, “You two, get after her!”

As she ran down the street, her two pursuers hastening after her, Katy cursed her choice of clothes for this errand. She and Amy had gone out in fine day clothes - white blouses and dark skirts, both made of the finest cotton. Amy had chosen a dark green skirt with golden lace accents that contrasted pleasingly with her red hair, while Katy’s dark red was adorned with patterns of white lace. The clothes were, of course, in keeping with the latest fashions. The loose blouse and the narrow waisted, tight fitting skirts, plus the corsets hidden beneath the outerwear, enhanced their hourglass figures. Now, those same clothes were betraying Katy as she sought escape from her pursuers. The high-necked collar of her blouse was like a hangman’s noose around her throat, and her ample bosom strained against her corset as she struggled for air. She had hiked her skirt up as far up as she dared in public - even while fearing for her life, Katherine Perkins would not become indecent - to give her more freedom to run, but it still restricted her movement.

Katy had no idea where she was, but she knew that she had to find someone who could help her. She had passed a sign on the street corner for PORT ROAD, which she hoped would lead her to the docks. There she could find a policeman, or a harbor master, or someone with the power to protect her and rescue Amy. As she turned a corner, she spared the briefest glance backwards. She’d had a bit of lead on her pursuers, and she’d managed to briefly lose them in crowds once or twice. But they’d caught sight of her again. Katy saw one of them point at her, and the pair began to stalk down the street and close the distance.

Katy was on the waterfront now, looking down a long row of wharves with ships of all shapes and sizes tied up. The nearest one flew a flag she didn’t recognize, but she saw a small group of men standing near the gangplank. To her relief, they appeared to be fair-skinned. Surely they would help her. She took as deep a breath as she could and began to run towards the sailors.

“Please! Someone! Help me!”

[Ixania]

Blair Cuttliff didn't think he had been cut out for the life of a sailor, but had he not taken that chance back home in Eeri, would he have ever seen as much of the world as he had? Would he have visited so many countries in regions like Dienstad and Esvanovia? Would he have glimpsed upon the dreary sights of Gholgoth? Would he have seen a beautiful young woman begging for his help?
Well, truth be told, he had seen plenty of pretty gals throughout his time at sea, and while he liked to present himself as a respectable, honorable gentleman, he had certainly enjoyed the company of a few choice girls over in AHSCA. They seemed to really like that he wasn't crude with them like the more experienced sailors had been, the ones who got really wasted on a potent mixture of cheap booze and ego.
In Mareyland alone, whether walking down the street, or for sale on one, he had seen quite a few. He had never talked to them, at least, not in the way he would've liked to, but he couldn't just fanny about on the job.
He wasn't like his gruffier peers, the ones who oftentimes slipped off the ship to enjoy the night-life, blowing their wages on whatever, or whoever, they fancied, usually food, drink, and the company of a woman. You couldn't bring 'em aboard the ship, of course, but you could find a room at an inn, or a nice dark alley, to have some fun with them, before you hurriedly ran back to the ship to report that you were really there, captain, honest, on time, ready to work, whispering once the captain was gone how one girl had really big this, or a bigger that, and how you were hoping to go back to her again before the ship set sail.
One sailor, Blair knew, even spent his money on a slave woman.
No, he didn't just buy an hour of her time.
He bought her.
Period.
At first, everyone was hooting and hollering. The little punk's bought himself a good time! And what a time! The woman in question was admittedly attractive, Blair conceded, but he detested how much his older peers seemed content to see her as nothing but her looks. At least the captain had some class, he thought, watching him scold her new owner before taking her aside, and telling her that he would have her out of this hellhole in a short while.
"You'll be free where we come from," he told her. "I promise you that. And I'll make sure any funny business en route gets punished, too."
Blair didn't talk to her much, but the captain begrugingly let her aboard the ship, and he certainly didn't talk to her, either, after his initial remarks. Why would he? What business could such a man, staunchly committed to his work, have with a former slave woman?
All Blair knew was that his crewmate, whose name was Casseon, insisted that he had done nothing wrong.
"I bought her fair and square," he told Blair while sitting her next to him in the mess hall. "I felt I had no other option."
At first glance, it seemed odd. He was barely into his twenties, she had long left them. He still wrote to his mother like he was at summer camp. She had long since been separated from hers. He spoke of her as if she was his wife. She spoke of him as if he was her way out of Hell.
"No, I didn't just buy her so I could, like, do stuff to her, y'know?" Casseon told him. "I bought her because I fell in love."
"You've gotta be kidding me."
"No, not at all!"
He hadn't told anyone but Blair about this, but her owner wasn't exactly adept at security.
"You remember when we went into town?" Casseon asked him. "Well, I was trying to find my way around when I saw her, following this real piece of work around. I swore, I had never seen a more beautiful woman in all my life! And to see her at that bastard's beck and call, I felt I had to do something."
Mareyland was a slaver's nation, this much Blair knew. He had seen his fair share of slaves. He had heard one of the older sailors boasting that he had done the deed with a slave girl in full view of her owner. Called him a real cuck, and said he insisted on watching them. The others, of course, all jeered and derided him, insinuating that he was just bullshitting.
Sorta like how Blair thought Casseon was now.
"I saw her buying things at the market, so I approached. One thing led to another."
When he saw her again, she was worse for wear. No doubt, that she had blown off her apportioned labor to spend her day with a foreign sailor was the last straw.
"But her owner had no idea about me. He just assumed she was lazy and good for nothing. So, when I bought her off him, he was none the wiser."
Blair looked at the woman. The captain had instructed his crew to treat her kindly. Of course, a few were still getting their looks in.
"But when we get back home, I'm going to marry her," Casseon proclaimed.
"Dude," sighed Blair. "How do you know that's even what she wants?"
"Well, I'll ask her!"
"Don't go rushing into things, okay? We're barely outta school."
"Well, obviously! But I want to show people I'm not just some little prat!"
Blair sighed. Casseon meant well, but meaning well wasn't gonna cut it in a world like theirs. In a world where a woman's running for her life.
"Look at that!" laughed one of the older sailors, observing the scene. "Anyone here know her?"
If Katy could speak Ixanian, she'd have heard them make all sorts of accusations, that she must've been longing to abscond with one of their comrades, that she was desperate, that she'd be a good lay, and all sorts of other, really crude remarks.
But it was Blair Cuttliff, who decided that he had to show 'em how it's done.
Why?
Well, something just compelled him to.
Remembering his language lessons, he approached the young woman and said, "What's going on? What's the problem?"
Hearing the others laughing it up, Blair turned around and told 'em, in his native tongue, that something bad was happening, and immediately the voices silenced.
"I wonder what's going on out there," Casseon thought aloud as he sat on the bed with the slave woman. "I'm sure it's just some local hooligans or whatever. Now then, start from the beginning..."
And so the slave woman told him a story, right as one was beginning under his very nose.

[Mareyland]

"Look at that!" laughed one of the older sailors, observing the scene. "Anyone here know her?"
If Katy could speak Ixanian, she'd have heard them make all sorts of accusations, that she must've been longing to abscond with one of their comrades, that she was desperate, that she'd be a good lay, and all sorts of other, really crude remarks.

Katy's initial hopes for salvation from the sailors seemed to be dashed against the rocks of cruel providence. She couldn't understand their language, but she could recognize the taunting tone in their voices. The last of her adrenaline-fueled strength seemed to evaporate and she stumbled, falling to unforgiving bricks of the street. Her long brown hair cascaded down in front of her face, having come out of its carefully styled pompadour. Her boater hat had flown off the top of her head sometime early in her flight.

Katy knew that her pursuers would catch up any moment, and drag her away to whatever horrible fate had befallen her friend Amy. And these lowsome sailors would do nothing but laugh at her. How terrible was man's inhumanity!

But it was Blair Cuttliff, who decided that he had to show 'em how it's done.
Why?
Well, something just compelled him to.
Remembering his language lessons, he approached the young woman and said, "What's going on? What's the problem?"
Hearing the others laughing it up, Blair turned around and told 'em, in his native tongue, that something bad was happening, and immediately the voices silenced.

And then, as if in answer to her silent prayers, a guardian appeared. One of the sailors stepped forward to help her, and silenced the wagging tongues of his fellows. Katy reached forward and grabbed at his arm as she pleaded, "Please! They took my friend. I need help!"

There were three gangsters chasing after Katy. These were low-level goons, foot soldiers for an organized crime ring that dominated the immigrant-filled neighborhoods around the Caroline city docks. The gang was involved in drugs, gambling, and prostitution, but its biggest criminal enterprise was extortion. None of the three men who were chasing after Katy Perkins had any qualms about using violence, especially on those who failed to pay their debts. Two of them were from Vincetori, and the third was a Morleyan with a nasty scar running from his temple, just below the eye, and across his cheek. He seemed to be in charge of the pursuit.

"Hey! Ickie!" The Morleyan swaggered forward towards Blair with the two other gangsters flanking him. He spat the second word, a shortening of "Ixanian" that had gained momentum as an insult thrown on the rough streets of the city. "We've got affairs to settle with that lady, yeah? No need to make an international incident out of it. Mind your own business."

"Please, you have to help me," Katy begged. As the three gangsters advanced towards them, she tried to get up from the street and move behind Blair as if he were the rampart of a castle. "Don't let them take me!"

[Ixania]

Katy's initial hopes for salvation from the sailors seemed to be dashed against the rocks of cruel providence. She couldn't understand their language, but she could recognize the taunting tone in their voices. The last of her adrenaline-fueled strength seemed to evaporate and she stumbled, falling to unforgiving bricks of the street. Her long brown hair cascaded down in front of her face, having come out of its carefully styled pompadour. Her boater hat had flown off the top of her head sometime early in her flight. Katy knew that her pursuers would catch up any moment, and drag her away to whatever horrible fate had befallen her friend Amy. And these lowsome sailors would do nothing but laugh at her. How terrible was man's inhumanity

Blair rolled his eyes as the others laughed, bending down to be at eye level with Katy. He admittedly found himself surely smitten with Katy, as he had with other ladies, but he was sensible enough to restrain himself. After all, he had been talking to courtly ladies who dressed in the same attire Katy had. It was his peers, sans Casseon (who had always been rather shy among ladies), who stuck with prostitutes. Love, schmove! Who needs it! You just needed a warm body beside ya every once in a while, that's what they'd always tell Blair. Blair, of course, disagreed.

"Hey," Blair said, speaking Katy's tongue with an obvious accent, "Don't let 'em get to you. They've just got no sense, really. Just tell me everything that's going on, and I'll do my best to help."

He looked over to the sailors, and gave them a specific look that let 'em know this wasn't just some lonely harlot or something similar.

"This woman needs our help," he told them in his native tongue. "Stop laughing, and let the captain know..."

Of course, as if on cue, the gangsters came over.

"Hey! Ickie!" The Morleyan swaggered forward towards Blair with the two other gangsters flanking him. He spat the second word, a shortening of "Ixanian" that had gained momentum as an insult thrown on the rough streets of the city. "We've got affairs to settle with that lady, yeah? No need to make an international incident out of it. Mind your own business."

Blair Cuttlfif knew that there would be moments like these, to glimpse upon the "real" side of whatever nations temporarily hosted him and his mates. The rules usually mandated that you were to stay out of it unless you were somehow roped in, and this just so happened to be one of those times. Blair didn't necessarily view himself as a hero, but he felt he couldn't let Katy go with these men, knowing fully well what could happen to her.

"Please, you have to help me," Katy begged. As the three gangsters advanced towards them, she tried to get up from the street and move behind Blair as if he were the rampart of a castle. "Don't let them take me!"

"I'm sorry," Blair told the men in their own tongue, "But I'm afraid I can't let her go. You're gonna have to take your own advice, and take a hike."

A couple of the other sailors started making their way over, while a few others were rummaging around for weapons....

---

Captain Collin Barrow had not expected that he'd have this kinda time in Mareyland.

He was a gruff, burly man who treated everybody aboard his ship strictly, but equitably. He was no respecter of persons.

At least until Venus showed up.

He might not have been up for the usual salacious conversations his men had about the local women, but he was still a man, and men still had needs.

Of course, he could not simply accost the poor woman, not after everything she had been through. He abhorred slavery, in all its forms. Well, except the kind they used to air on pay-per-view....

"Damn it," he muttered icily. He was sitting on his bed, in deep contemplation. He believed Venus would likely not marry Casseon, since the boy was barely out of his teens, and what could he provide her that he couldn't?

But there was also the fact that he was getting a bit too old for this shit, quite frankly.

He missed the land. He missed the people who lived on the land. It was one thing, in his youth, to denounce his father and flee from his childhood home, never to return - well, unless his beloved mama sent him his father's obituary.

It was another altogether to think that he missed the perks of the land.

For a moment, he had stood outside Casseon's door, listening to Venus telling him about her experiences on the plantation. He wished he had been the one to retrieve her instead of that little prat much more, then, tightly clenching his fists.

When Casseon left to go see what the matter was outside, Verrell went to talk to Venus, but their conversation petered out once Casseon came running back, telling him that there was an incident.

He saw the fright on Venus' face - had her master come back?

"Wait here," Collin told her. "I'll see what's going on."

When he got outside, he noticed what looked like battle lines being drawn.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Captain Barrow said. "Eh? I thought I told you men to get to work..."

That's when he saw Katy. Well, once he admitted to himself he was looking at her rear and turned his eyes away.

"Blair!" he shouted. "What's going on? Who's that girl behind you?"

"I'll explain later, Cap'tn!" Blair replied. "Right now, we've got trouble..."

Muttering curses under his breath, Captain Barrow took his piece out, and after averting his eyes again, looked over to the head gangster.

"Choose your next move wisely," he told him, gruffly. "We're no pushovers where we come from."

[Mareyland]

Blair Cuttlfif knew that there would be moments like these, to glimpse upon the "real" side of whatever nations temporarily hosted him and his mates. The rules usually mandated that you were to stay out of it unless you were somehow roped in, and this just so happened to be one of those times. Blair didn't necessarily view himself as a hero, but he felt he couldn't let Katy go with these men, knowing fully well what could happen to her.

"I'm sorry," Blair told the men in their own tongue, "But I'm afraid I can't let her go. You're gonna have to take your own advice, and take a hike."

A couple of the other sailors started making their way over, while a few others were rummaging around for weapons....

"What the fuck is going on here?" Captain Callow said. "Eh? I thought I told you men to get to work..."

That's when he saw Katy. Well, once he admitted to himself he was looking at her rear and turned his eyes away.

"Blair!" he shouted. "What's going on? Who's that girl behind you?"

"I'll explain later, Cap'tn!" Blair replied. "Right now, we've got trouble..."

Muttering curses under his breath, Captain Callow took his piece out, and after averting his eyes again, looked over to the head gangster.

"Choose your next move wisely," he told him, gruffly. "We're no pushovers where we come from."

The three gangsters hesitated as the odds against them grew uncomfortable. The two henchmen reached into their jackets for their own weapons. One of them asked, "What do we do, boss?" The Morleyan thug who seemed to be in charge balled his hands into fists and scowled at Blair and the captain. His eyes darted from them, to Katy, to the other sailors preparing for a confrontation on the ship.

"Ach, leave her," he said after a moment of calculation. He turned his focus to the Ixanians. "Stomping these sailor boys wouldn't be worth the effort. But mark my words, Ickie: If you or any of your little sailor boys step off these docks, you better watch your backs." He jerked his head and clicked his tongue, a signal to withdraw. "She's all yours." The trio backed away, keeping their eyes on the Ixanians until they turned around the corner.

As her pursuers retreated, Katy Perkins rose on shaking legs. Panic and adrenaline were still coursing through her veins, and her breathing was ragged. No sooner had she gotten to her feet and caught her breath than she had practically fallen into Blair's arms, wrapping him in an intense embrace.

"Thank you! Oh God, thank you!" Her words became interspersed with choking sobs as the emotions of the moment overwhelmed her. "I was with Amy, I told her it was too dangerous! That brute grabbed her and he would have had me too, if you hadn't saved me." A new surge of panic flared in her eyes. She gripped Blair's arm like a vise. "Please, you have to rescue her! By the time the police get here, who knows where they might have taken her! You've got to do something!"

[Ixania]

The three gangsters hesitated as the odds against them grew uncomfortable. The two henchmen reached into their jackets for their own weapons. One of them asked, "What do we do, boss?" The Morleyan thug who seemed to be in charge balled his hands into fists and scowled at Blair and the captain. His eyes darted from them, to Katy, to the other sailors preparing for a confrontation on the ship.

"Ach, leave her," he said after a moment of calculation. He turned his focus to the Ixanians. "Stomping these sailor boys wouldn't be worth the effort. But mark my words, Ickie: If you or any of your little sailor boys step off these docks, you better watch your backs." He jerked his head and clicked his tongue, a signal to withdraw. "She's all yours." The trio backed away, keeping their eyes on the Ixanians until they turned around the corner.

Captain Barrow shook his head. Jeez, some people—no matter, they had decided to retreat. Cowards, the lot of 'em. He would've gladly dealt with 'em, just like he had dealt with all the other jackasses back home—one after the other, just like that. But he had Shane, Val and Ann to think about—where would they be without him? Alas, he decided the best thing to do was to leave them be.

For now.

As her pursuers retreated, Katy Perkins rose on shaking legs. Panic and adrenaline were still coursing through her veins, and her breathing was ragged. No sooner had she gotten to her feet and caught her breath than she had practically fallen into Blair's arms, wrapping him in an intense embrace.

The sailors hooted and hollered, and a few said some pretty crude remarks in their native tongue—well, sure, Captain Barrow wouldn't have minded Katy showing what the big guy upstairs gave her, but he wasn't completely pornsick like his men, the ones who'd pin up famous celebrities from back home, or talk about how they wished they had the cajones to buy some pretty slave girl to take home with 'em—

"Slavery is against the law," Captain Barrow told them. "And don't tell me you're just gonna free 'em thereafter, 'cause that excuse just barely works even for Princess Lilith."

Now he'd done it, he thought—they all started hooting and hollering, shouting her praises.

Lilith.

The black sheep of the Imperial Family, Lilith was, as far as anyone knew, the world's first princess to pose nude in magazines, and they weren't exactly dedicated to the arts, either.

Much has been said about Princess Lilith. Much of it, however, isn't safe for publication.

"Don't lie, Capt'n," said one of the men, drunk on a potent mix of booze and (so he believed) his appreciation for the lesbian experience. "You've seen at least one of 'em right?"

"One of what?" Collin asked.

"Her films, man! Lilith's films!"

"Oh, for the love of..."

But he had to admit to himself that visions of Katy and Venus entangled with one another would creep into his mind thereafter.

We are all susceptible to our own desires, y'know. No one is above biology.

"Thank you! Oh God, thank you!" Her words became interspersed with choking sobs as the emotions of the moment overwhelmed her. "I was with Amy, I told her it was too dangerous! That brute grabbed her and he would have had me too, if you hadn't saved me." A new surge of panic flared in her eyes. She gripped Blair's arm like a vise. "Please, you have to rescue her! By the time the police get here, who knows where they might have taken her! You've got to do something!"

Captain Barrow shook his head, because he knew that he'd have to give the order. The men were all seemingly enthused with the desire to kick some local butt, and maybe get another glimpse of Katy's on the way.

"You craven dogs," he muttered icily as he made his way off the ship. "Get it together!"

He spoke briefly, gruffly to Blair. In his native tongue, of course.

"But sir..."

"That's an order, boy. Get to it."

Blair took one last look at Katy, before he made his way back to the rest of the men.

Captain Barrow looked over at Katy, then. Wielding rudimentary, but understandable, knowledge of the local language, he addresses her.

Like one of his men, but formally.

"M'lady," he says. "You should board the ship. We'll handle things from here."

He gestures to the ship.

"Don't worry about my men. If they know what's good for them, they won't even think of touching you improperly. Now go. Get a move on."

Meanwhile, Casseon and Venus stepped outside to see what was going on, and when Venus saw Katy for the first time, she felt like the earth below her cracked.

[Mareyland]

Captain Barrow looked over at Katy, then. Wielding rudimentary, but understandable, knowledge of the local language, he addresses her. Like one of his men, but formally.

"M'lady," he says. "You should board the ship. We'll handle things from here." He gestures to the ship. "Don't worry about my men. If they know what's good for them, they won't even think of touching you improperly. Now go. Get a move on."

Katy took one of the ship captain's hands in her own and squeezed it. "Thank you, sir," she said, tears returning to the corners of her eyes as her emotions boiled over. "Thank you. Please, you have to go quickly. We were in Little Morley, just a few blocks away from here." She pointed in the direction she had run from - the same way that the three thugs had retreated back after the confrontation with the sailors.

Little Morley, as the name suggested, was a neighborhood populated mainly by immigrants from the eponymous region of Gristol, the island on the other side of the Tempestian Ocean that had founded the colony of Mareyland centuries ago. Morley had once been an independent kingdom on the northern part of the island it shared with Gristol, until the more powerful and populous kingdom absorbed it. Mareyland had been a destination for Morleyan emigrants, fleeing hard times and harsh masters in their homeland, for generations. New arrivals from the island naturally gravitated towards their countrymen one or more generations removed from their own journey across the sea, who provided a network of support. They also provided vulnerable targets for gangsters running protection rackets, like the one whose thugs had snared Amy in their clutches.

"We came in her carriage," Katy said. "It's red, mostly, with some yellow decoration. And Amy - she's a redhead, wearing a dark green skirt and a white blouse. And they killed her driver! In the lobby of some tenement building. We were going to talk to a woman, Amy was worried about her because she hadn't shown up to the last food handout. She must have gotten into trouble with those gangsters, and then when we went looking for her they took Amy!"

She was still holding the captain's hand, squeezing it as tightly as if she was trying to push her fingers through and out the other side of the flesh. Suddenly realizing how hard she was gripping on, she released the hold and apologized.

"Please, sir, you have to find her. You have to save her. Who knows what they'll do to her?"

Katy's father refused to bring the Daily Banner into their home, but she had seen its headlines on newsstands and in the homes of other families. It seemed like once a month there was some sensational story about the disappearance of a young woman, and the Banner always breathlessly speculated that they had been kidnapped by criminals and shipped off to be the forced concubine of some Oriental despot. Her father told her those stories were all rubbish, invented by the Banner to sell newspapers to scandal-hungry lowlifes and debauched gossips. Now they all seemed terribly real.

Having, she hoped, impressed on the captain the urgency of the situation and given him all the information she could think of, Katy finally followed his suggestion and walked unsteadily up the gangplank and onto the deck of the ship.

Meanwhile...

The criminals had taken Amy into some room of the same building where they'd grabbed her. Before they tied a cloth blindfold over her eyes, Amy saw enough to guess that it was some sort of office - maybe the building manager's? These tenements usually had some kind of supervisor who worked for the landlord, who in turn owned several of these dingy buildings. It was, in Amy's opinion, a horribly exploitative system. The landlords charged exorbitant prices for housing only a few steps above the kind of conditions that slaves lived in, and even the slaves typically lived in cabins instead of dozens of families crammed into a big brick eyesore. She'd been part of a committee for the Benevolent Society aimed at condemning corrupt practices by the slumlords, but never before had she seen them so up close.

The thugs had tied her to a chair in the office and stuffed another cloth in her mouth to silence her cries for help. All she could do was listen to their conversations, while her heart pounded like a locomotive engine in her chest.

"Once we get that other woman, we'll move them somewhere nice and quiet. And if their fathers don't open their purses for us, we'll find some sheikh who wants some new companions and ship them off. We'll be rich either way!"

"What about that driver, and the coach?"

"We'll dump his body somewhere along the way. And we'll take the coach! No sense getting rid of it when we could ride in style first!"

"What if someone goes to the cops?"

"These people? No one's gonna cross us by snitching. They'll stay behind their locked doors until the coast is clear and then they'll pretend it never happened. This will be the easiest money we've ever made."