With The Sunrise [Mordred]

A few more minutes were allowed to pass, during which the warmed tea would vanish. Thoughts about Roxas circled the Gambler’s focus, birthed as hypothetical probabilities surrounding the boy’s rather unexpected appearance in the port. There was doubtless a purpose this world played into the Key of Destiny’s agenda. Though what was it? What had been scribbled upon his well protected parchment, that had seemed so pressing, even himself was omitted an glimpse upon its contents. Luxord had to admit, looking upon his former comrade still held its difficulties. It took all the restraint he could muster not to fill the youth’s body with cards. Roxas deserved as much…both he and his Somebody. To have been cut down without so much as a bat of the eye, it was simply an unforgivable display of poor form. The very reminiscence of moment would make Luxord’s hands tense around the porcelain between them.

The cup would find its way back to the saucer without fragmenting. A collected composure was among the only possessions he had left, the only thing as close to his chest as the black coat that covered it. A hand was brought up to where his stolen promise ought to have been. Oh, Roxas- To thieve my completion only to save your own? Far too egocentric, even for you mused the hooded blond in silence. His hands would fold upon the other, as his sights were once more directed to the bustling harbor town. A brief skim for anything of interest, as though this world was ever lacking in such a department. There was certainly notice among the common-folk regarding the commotion about the navy, though this was mere speculation. From his vantage point from the height of the deck which he sat, Luxord could only do his best to estimate the hushed whispers in the streets. As fortune would pay up, it cashed in as man man wandering over for a drink, carrying with him the gossip that had traveled from a certain hotbed of trouble.

The scrub of a sailor made mention of a certain tavern, one of which Luxord had already familiarized himself. The Conch, as it was so favorably referred by the locale, was known for the brutish regulars and unfavorable travelers. As the tale of the morning was regaled with all the enthusiasm expected, the enigmatic customer found himself gazing upon the scene of his victory from the night prior. It had been effortless to acquire what winnings he had, and in hindsight they had gone to a rather noteworthy cause. As enticing as it was to conquer a game such as this with ease and haste, it would be nowhere near enjoyable, were he to never savor every move across the board.

Time was a mistress best played with patience. It was a truth he knew best.

Fortune would smirk again, this time as the tavern’s door across the square would open. A curious brow was raised upon the emergence of a newcomer wearing a rather familiar attire, one of which Roxas had been lacking. Curious development- he would muse. He might have been sitting too far away to make out the noticeable traits this fellow held, that would certainly distinguish him from Luxord’s former comrades, though there was no mistaking the coat. Perhaps this drifter was among Xemnas’ new group? Rather, whomever The Superior now served- Luxord recalling then and there the few words Roxas had shared the prior evening. Were his presumptions correct, therein would lie a means to gather whatever intel the Key of Destiny might require. Whatever the aim of this wanderer, Luxord was sure to find out what Xemnas seemed to still desire of this world.

That of course, was not going to happen on the Gambler’s time.

With the bill paid, and no longer holding onto a desire for sightseeing, shadow would slither up his form like vines growing up a the trunk of a tree. Within moments he was gone, vanished from the eatery to leave an unattended cup upon the table. His destination awaited in the form of the wall next to the tavern’s threshold, his hooded form appearing in a lean against the weathered building, just shy of the Kinetic Knight’s peripheral. In this moment alone Luxord deduced the condition of the other coat, and that the wearer was indeed a Nobody. It was an unmistakable void compared to all the beating hearts that lingered just a few feet on the opposite side of the door. ”I must say the new uniforms lack refinement-“ spoke Luxord, breaking whatever silence had lingered. ”Then again The Superior was never one for fashion.” Pushing off the wall with a boot, the Gambler of Fate would stride passed the other Nobody, coming to an abrupt halt a mere ten feet before him. Turning to look upon the mysterious Nobody, Luxord would regard him with a gestured an upturned palm. ”Perhaps you’ll sate curiosity, and indulge the reason behind your presence here, Mister-?” A pause left to allow the man, or rather shell of one, an opportunity to say his peace. Awaiting whatever answer the enigma chose to give, a hand was raised in a curious manner to grace the hidden hairs of his finely trimmed goatee. If this morning had lacked any entertainment, it was certain to pick up from here.

Beneath the shroud of a hood so dark, electric blue eyes would narrow, accompanied by a devilish smirk. The words, as swift as they came, were unmistakably laced with a false sense of superiority. An air of passive aggression upon a monotonous voice bearing an uncanny resemblance to that of his former leader. As rudely as this Nobody would choose to regard the Gambler, there was little that would manage to make his skin crawl. Perhaps his indifference to the inhospitality of others, in itself, was what kept him around for the final dealings before. It had certainly served him well in more trying of tribulations in the past. Regardless, Luxord only found the responsive spiel more intriguing than offensive. The other blond would make motion to pass, and was allowed to do so upon completion of his final, yet rather redundant question. Luxord could only muster an amused chuckle, which soon grew into a delighted laugh, turning in full to glimpse this Mordred’s exposed backside.

Despite this non-man’s aim to withhold information from the prying chronokinetic master, every word and action made had only served to betray this apparent agenda. The prior gossip overheard at the restaurant had been sufficient enough to provide Luxord with a few estimates to lean on. It wasn’t often a fight broke out this early in the day, though those that weren’t passed off as drunken brawls, were more often investigated by the red coats on patrol. It was even more rare that the name such as Davy Jones would dared be uttered so freely, without regard to consequences or eavesdropping ears. It was sure to attract an unquestionable amount of attention. Such was the case as a glimpse to Mordred’s last place of visit was made. Soldiers were interrogating a man that seemed to be nursing an arm. Setting his blue hued sights on the tattered coat once more, Luxord knew there was little mistaking the direction this wanderer was headed.

”Only the feckless judge a book’s cover with such prompt haste.” At the conclusion of the sentence, a snap would resonate in the street loud enough for the other to hear. As on cue, a wall of cards would erect before Mordred, effectively barring his path, if only for but a moment. With a rotation of the hand, the cards would minimize in height and size, before taking flight through the air to return to Luxord’s grasp. Another stylish wave and they would vanish. ”Petty accusations aside, I find it rather curious this...direction of approach.” The Gambler of Fate would close the distance, utilizing the shadows to reemerge to Mordred’s left. ”The brutish, methodical interrogation- the sloppy trail of onlookers? Only a neophyte plays the game with such carelessness.” Luxord would gesture to the Nobody’s presence before him, then direct that hand to point up the hill toward Swann’s mansion. ”Perhaps this entails the answer behind your predicament, behind a still fruitless endeavor that beckons you up this hillside? However victorious a gambit it may prove, therein lies unprecedented failure that may escape even your observations.” The man in black could hardly contain the rueful chuckle that followed. ”Was this really the plan, sir? March up to the governor, slaughter pawns in a display of power and sheer force? With the impending arrival of his king’s dignitaries, in a closed bay occupied by an armada? Surely enough of a ruckus to draw unwarranted Keybearers swayed by morality. Recklessly inadvisable, though I applaud the gumption.”

A hand was raised to caress the barely visible goatee un his chin, contemplating whatever logic this new acquaintance saw within an agenda of pure madness. Only a few seconds would pass before another snap was made, followed promptly by a gestured index digit to Mordred. ”Should your mockery of pride prove fallible, perhaps you’ll listen to a proposition of reason?” Luxord would then nod in the direction of an adjacent alley, before making motion to guide Mordred with an upturned palm. Footsteps could be heard hastily encroaching upon their position. Though he cared not for the company of this prickly personality, Luxord recognized an open confrontation in the streets was even more undesirable. Discretion was a gentleman’s hand to play after all. At that very moment a patrol of red coated soldiers would come trotting down the street, marching with haste up the hill to the upper class district. Luxord would watch on from the shade of this alleyway, before nodding to indicate they had passed beyond earshot.

”For the time being, I suspect our interests mutually align in the governor, no?” A glint within those calculative, observing orbs beneath their mask of shadow. The former Number Ten would place a hand over his chest, where the heart he had been promised did not reside. There was no profound beating behind the boney cage beneath flesh, no true capability of feeling that could possibly exist. All that burned inside Luxord was that ever present longing and desire for completion. As for trust- Rest assured I am more interested in collecting the winnings I am owed. For now, a governor in pocket would suffice.” It was then, as though cued by the very words that left his mouth, that a pair of his underling Nobodies would manifest not a foot away from the man himself. They remained idle, playing with cards that shot through the air betwixt either of their sleeves, awaiting whatever orders the alpha Gambler would decide to give. Luxord returned the hand to his chin, supporting the arm with the other, as he looked on the pair of Nobodies in a speculative manner.

”Bring us a manifesto of the inbound ships.”

At the drop of the last syllable they were gone in torrents of thorns, their goals set in motion for their master. All that remained to be seen for now was Mordred’s awaited decision. Whatever the scarlet eyed enigma would choose, Luxord would adapt his strategy accordingly. After all, what fun was there if the outcome of this day proved predictable? Either way, entertainment was a certifiable guarantee.

So it was that the platinum blond found entertainment, provided generously by the bespectacled wanderer whom fancied himself a superior player. Whatever helped the poor shell sleep at night, Luxord wouldn’t ruin the other Nobody’s fun, for now. Rather the Gambler took his time shuffling about a series of cards through the air before him. Watching. Observing. He listened in to the conversation between Mordred and the soldiers, whom as it turned out merely wished to inquire the reason behind the scuffle in the tavern. It provided more insight to the show of the hour, this rather unknown variable meandering about the streets of the port. Mordred’s mannerisms and choice of answers to the guards were taken into account with intrigue, as was the rather deflated responses of the ‘king’s finest.’ Passed off as nothing more than a drunken brawl, and perhaps that was all it might have been, were someone else possibly involved. Only a fool would believe such a face valued story.

Luxord was no fool.

A few bleak answers later, and the Gambler soon found himself addressed again, this time in a manner more suited to stroke Mordred’s own inflated ego. Some needless insight regarding the meaning of reconnaissance, as though he were talking down to a child. Though there was some insight to the intentions of this insufferable personality, twice repeated in fact. Doubtless that he cared what Luxord knew about them, or for anything else in this city of trade. A boat was an easily acquired accommodation, and he certainly didn’t need Governor Swann for that. After a long enough spiel that could have put even Xemnas to sleep, the four-eyed blond would move in closer to whisper. Luxord let the arrogant assumptions of his own intentions come to halt at last, the silence coming to a full as a final card was pinned between fingers, before it twirled into nothing.

”On the contrary, I never agreed to anything of the sort. I merely voiced my suspicions.”

A carefree snap was made to the air, and as though promptly on cue, an onyx carriage manned by the two Gambler minions came rounding about the corner to an abrupt halt behind their master. Luxord would reach out to the air with an open palm, and one of the underlings would present a scroll of parchment unto Luxord’s coiling grasp. He would then tuck this into an interior pocket of his coat, before turning to open the carriage door. With one boot on the step, Luxord paused. ”Ah yes, that’s right-“ he mused a reminder with a nod of an index finger. The Gambler of Fate would then reach into a familiar coin purse, and remove enough gold sufficient for the Harbormaster’s tax. The coins were then tossed to the dirt at Mordred’s feet. ”You should hurry, or you’ll miss your boat Mr. Smith!” called Luxord with a wave, entering the carriage as it sped off up the hill to the finer parts of Kingston. There was business to be had, and as a proud, colossal flagship bearing the colors of the EITC came within view at the edge of the bay, the fort began to sound out with alarm bells.

Men were called to their stations from every inch of the harbor, preparing for the arrival of the men sent by their king. Soldiers rushed along the stone walls, forcing anyone without a uniform out of the way. Some men caught in the way were forcibly pushed away by some of the more aggressive, servants of His Majesty, while one poor woman lost her balance to take an unceremonious dip in the harbor water. The incident caused such a fuss, several day drinking sailors had taken it upon themselves to attempt to fish her out. Regulatory proceedings were also underway to expect the Governor for the arrival of the EITC leader and his midshipmen. Drills were underway within moments, and could be heard even from the window of Luxord’s carriage, as it sped farther from the source.

Eventually it would slow, and make a left turn to come to a stop before a general store. As unusual as the Nobodies manning the carriage might have appeared to some, they surprising failed to draw as much attention as a certain brown haired Keybearer might have. A brief click as the carriage door opened, before the hooded passenger stepped out onto the boardwalk. Let us shuffle the deck some more mused Luxord to himself with a chuckle. Stepping to the door, the Gambler of Fate would vanish into the establishment.

”Ah, its you. Have it then?”

”As per our agreement. I trust you happened upon the appropriate compensation? Such papers are not easy to come by…”

”Yes- yes, just let us have a gander at em.”

The man in the hood standing opposite the owner at the counter, in this rather scurvy place of trade, would promptly retrieve the manifesto from the interior of his coat. Luxord would make to hand the scroll to the man, yet pause a foot before the exchange. A snarl would form behind a salt and peppered beard, as misty green eyes would move from the gloved hand, to the shrouded face of its owner. ”Ive done enough gambling in my time to know all bets are required to be placed on the table sir.” There weren’t many of these locals that could be trusted, or rather anyone, as the current times were starting to show the Gambler. Surely if Xemnas now had unknown associates like this Mordred running about, it was a safe enough wager to place. The lines in the sand were not as refined as they once had been. As the shop owner would make another disapproving black toothed grin, he would reach a hand under the counter.

”Is like I said, I got it righ’ -ere.”

A small envelope with a stamp, bearing what he believed to be the English King’s royal seal, was then set upon a counter desperately in need of a thorough dusting. An approving chuckle emitted from the onyx hood. ”Yes, it would seem you do. Ensure this makes its way to Salty Tom.” With a brief exchange of the manifesto for the envelope, the mysterious racketeer would give a parting wave, before returning to his carriage waiting outside. Perhaps now he’ll be less inclined to turn a blind eye mused the non-man of fate, as the horse driven mobile would once more start off through the busy streets. Upon further examination of this envelope, Luxord would come to find the seal it bore, was not unlike most found upon those that usually travelled through the fort. Rather it would bear a crest used by prestigious members of an inbound trade company. The Nobody felt his eyes narrow at this discovery, before shaking the envelope gently to further discover it was empty.

Cheated? Again?

Naturally it would seem his contact had failed to acquire the desired letter from the former Commodore Norrington’s office from within the fort. He would let out a slow, drawn out breath as the carriage came to a slow at the cry of a ”Hold up there!” No matter. There were other ways of turning this bad hand to his advantage. Drawing back the curtain over the window, Luxord would come to face with one of the posted guards at a gate. The brit would naturally regard this hooded traveler with an eye of suspicion. ”What’s your business here, Mister-?” asked the guard, with a pause and a nod.

”Mordred.”

”Well Mr. Mordred, afraid the Governor isn’t receiving any visitors- on account of the impending arrival of the East India Trade Company.”

Luxord would note the man’s words sparked a recollection of abbreviation upon the envelope’s seal. ”On the contrary,” interjected Luxord, handing the envelope to the guard. The man in red looked over the blank parchment, before his eyes widened at the sight of the seal. ”Apologies sir- I had no idea Lord Beckett had sent an emissary ashore!” Luxord would smirk, giving a wave of forgiveness as he let the curtain fall once more. The guard would foolishly hand the envelope back to this hooded enigma, and wave for his subordinates to open the mansion’s iron gates. As they opened the onyx carriage would hasten up the drive to the mansion, coming to a halt on the other side of the fountain, just before the front doors. At the sight of the carriage, the posted guards would approach in an attempt to stall this mysterious arrival, having failed to receive the news from their deceived comrade at the gate.

”Halt! Who goes there!?”

The men’s shared demand were answered promptly, as the Gambler Nobodies driving the carriage would each dive for them. A simple attack from each, and the guards were effectively knocked unconscious. They would turn to make a grandiose display in opening the carriage door for their master, before vanishing in a flash of ivory and ebony thorns. Luxord would make hastened steps over the unconscious guards, pushing open the mansion’s main doors, as he entered into a room bearing the main flight of stairs. A glimpse skyward found a glass chandelier, moments before the pair of guards stationed in the library, would arrive at the peak of the stairs to greet whom they believed the expected emissary. ”Hey! Stop you!” One would cry out, as they began to hurry down the steps with muskets in hand. Luxord would regard their needless bravery with a smile, as a small group of cards began to encircle a raised hand.

The men charged with valor like bulls with red in their eyes. A few flicks of the wrist, and they each dropped to the floor, effectively brained by metaphysical cardboard. ”Tough luck there gents-“ he would chide as he began his ascension of the stairs. ”What is the meaning of-!? Near the peak of this flight, Luxord found himself greeted by a familiar face in the Governor’s daughter, whom it would seem shared his surprise. ”Miss Swann! A pleasure as always!” Luxord regarded her with an inviting wave, as she replied with a scream, fleeing back hence the way she had come. The hooded man couldn’t help but find the reaction she gave to be humorous, chuckling as he took his time with a calm pursuit. There would be little use to run, especially when an escape just wasn’t in the poor lady’s cards. The chase would lead down one hallway, and to another, during which an all manner of things would be strewn about the floor to bar Luxord’s path. ”Come now, you don’t truly believe you’ll win this game. Do you?” He would come to the ajar door to her father’s study, barely managing to dodge a book that had been thrown for his head.

Luxord gave a chuckle, before raising an index finger to point at the unarmed woman by the window, prompting a single card to fly from his sleeve. It flew through the air effortlessly, before lingering by his control, just a few mere inches from a throat clearing itself with a sharp gasp. Her eyes widened as she froze, having expected the end to have come, and yet it had not. Upon realizing this, Elizabeth would narrow her eyes at Luxord out of pious contempt, as there was no use in hiding how much she loathed this man. The Gambler of Fate expected nothing less from a governor’s daughter, especially one whose life he had already threatened a little over a year ago. It was evident she remembered him from Sora’s last adventure, which proved another fortuitous chip to add to his ever growing collection of bets to place.

”It has been a while.”

”Not nearly long enough.”

Such venom behind her words. This was going to make these efforts so much worthier their merit.

With a confident stride across the room, Luxord took a seat behind the governor’s desk, propping his feet upon a letter within an open envelope. Never once did the control of this single card, threatening Miss Swann’s throat, ever find itself relinquished. Fortunate enough as it was, at that very moment down in the harbor, a series of explosions followed by untimely deaths would sound alarms throughout the fort. The noise and incident had stirred up enough of a commotion, it could be heard all throughout the bay. What inbound frigates that had served as the Endeavour’s entourage, had upon sight of the conflagration at the docks, taken it upon themselves to incite a blockade at the edge of the bay. What commotion could be heard, ignited a figurative fire within the men, both of the King’s navy and the EITC alike, whom began a thorough search for any pirates, or possible saboteurs throughout the harbor. Naturally news of the killings had spread through the town like wildfire, and it wasn’t long before it would reach the mansion in the form of a cautious messenger.

The younger lad, as disturbed as he was to find the downed guards upon entering, made swift haste for Governor Swann’s quarters, delivering an immediate request of his presence upon Lord Beckett’s ship. Swann was a rather upstanding fellow in his own right, as far as deemed in the eyes of his King. Though even he was unaware of what Beckett’s arrival in Port Royal truly meant. Feeling such a meeting so momentous might require an upkeep of appearances, the concerned father would retreat to the study, where his daughter had last been seen. A knock on the door ajar soon followed. ”Elizabeth darling, are you in- Oh good heavens!” cried the governor upon walking into the room. Catching sight of the hooded man, and his finger pointed at a card that seemed to be levitating in a threatening manner before his daughter’s throat, had surely been enough to make the man’s eyes go wide, and jaw slack. ”W-what is the meaning of this!? Unhand her this very instant!” cried Swann as he stepped forward, his demands falling on deaf ears.

”We both know I very well can’t do that, can I- Elizabeth?”

The pair of Swann’s regarded each other with pained empathy for the girl’s predicament, as they failed each other for words. The governor’s mouth would move, but nothing left them before several gaping attempts were made.

”W-w what is it that you want?”

”Let us presume a governor has not forgotten the rules of negotiation? Then allow me to elaborate on what is now at stake on the table…” Luxord would remove his boots from the table, before rising to stand. Luxord would round the table, before regarding Gov. Swann with an eyeing from head to toe. A gestured thumb was then shot over his shoulder toward Elizabeth. ”Your daughter’s life, for Port Royal’s. I wonder- which is more compelling to your heart? Is it Duty- or Love?” Luxord would gesture to the air, hoping this simple sense of philosophy was not lost upon a man of Swann’s position. The man in the greyed wig was speechless at what this enigma was proposing, and upon a day of such impending importance. His eyes were wide with shock, anger, disbelief, and confusion all coalesced into a single euphoric form of speechlessness. ”Need time to think it over? Very well-“ paused the platinum blond with a snap of his fingers. A yelp followed as Elizabeth, and the card holding her hostage, would then vanish with a corridor of darkness.

”I shall permit you a week to weigh your predicament.”

Another snap, and Luxord would vanish with the dark as well.