Ransom
A private roleplay between Miss Macabre and Captain Majestic.


The ballroom was a chorus of tinkling glasses, forced pleasantries, and false laughter. There was a gentle rhythm of clacking heels against the marble as bodies swayed to the scratchy violin and harpsichord that shrieked behind the rest of the clamour.
Nobles, socialites, the cream of the crop; anyone who mattered was there that night, at the Queen's solstice masquerade. However, due to the nature of the masked ball, even a lowly urchin could sneak in, were he skillful enough to steal a costume.
A lowly urchin or an infamous sky pirate.

Florian Locke stood calmly in the corner of the vast ballroom, sipping at a crystal glass filled with a strange blue liquor. He most definately looked the part, with his long black hair tied neatly behind his head, and his face hidden behind a mask of raven's feathers. An elegant frock coat sheathed his lithe frame, and a white cravat spilled down from his neck like a frosted fountain. Slim-legged, striped trousers were mostly hidden by his heavily buckled boots.

Depite how he seemed to belong there, the pirate was truly uncomfortable. He disliked being around so many stuffy, snob-nosed people in one room. He hated the pressure on class, and how the guests were only there to improve their own status. Most of all, Florian hated to be land-locked.
Still, this was necesary. Times were getting hard for pirates; East India was no longer sending its ships into the sky unguarded, raids were having higher costs on the pirating side, and the price of rum was up.

When Florian had heard from a trusted streetear that the Queen's masquerade ball was going to be extra special this year, it had indeed piqued his honed senses. Originally, he had meant to sneak into the party and steal whatever he could; however, amidst socializing under the alias "Baron Lyndexter", Florian had uncovered a most interesting morsel of intel.
The Queen was to be showing off her pride and joy, her only son, for the first time. It was rumored that the Prince led a sheltered life, shut away inside for he was so precious to his doting mother.
Florian had no doubt she would pay handsomely for his safe return, should he "go missing" one evening.

A devilish grin crept onto Florian's face: it was a suitable expression for his features, though only a third of his face was visible.
Piercing violet eyes swept the ballroom with a practiced slowness, deliberately searching for signs of disturbance. His ears were honed into the conversations of others, waiting for someone to mention the Prince's arrival, but so far he was having no luck.
Oh well, patience was a virtue.

In a muddle of buttons and expensive fabric, Prince Harland Spencer swiftly pulled a set of pertinent robes over his head. If anybody were to see him in such a rush, it would be apparent that he was running late, and by the grandeur of his attire, he was late to an occasion rather significant.

Annually, Her Majesty; Queen Abigail Spencer would host the Solstice Masquerade. Arriving behind schedule to this event would surely be seen as a transgression to the entire public. The Prince was excused no more than if the Queen herself had been overdue.

“Master Harland, the party awaits you. You must hurry.” A shy, feminine voice called from behind the parlour door.
“Yes, Margaret, I’ll be there shortly.” said the Prince calmly. He quickly combed back his hair, not bothering to fix the stray tresses that threatened to fall over his eyes. The dishevelled look was how Harland often wore his hair, despite his mother’s dissatisfaction.

The Prince sauntered over to the door from which the voice had sounded, and opened it, only to be handed an extravagant mask. It was gold and the brightest shade of ivory to match his ostentatious robes, with a thin trim made of miniscule pearls. An array of long feathers protruded from the top, and ribbons ranging in lengths fell from each top corner.

“Thank you. Care to escort me?” Harland smiled charmingly at the servant girl, who evidently found it hard not to blush.
“Oh, sir, I’m not dressed. I would be an embarrassment to you. Besides, I haven’t got a mask.” Her disappointment was poorly concealed with a modest smile.
“Not a worry. There should plenty of extras in mother’s room. I expect she couldn’t decide.” He laughed, but she didn’t.
“No sir, I have to get back to work. My attendance has been forbidden.”
“Margaret, darling, it’s a masquerade. The palace could be full of thieves and the guards wouldn’t even know it. You deserve a night off.”

Nobody noticed when the two arrived in the ballroom. Margaret was unrecognizable. Her glossy red lips were the only feature visible under a ruby encrusted mask. A lacy black dress adorned her curvaceous figure; one of the Queen’s belongings. She dearly hoped nobody would take note of the grey peasant slippers she was forced to wear, as none of the Queen’s many shoes fit her properly. It would very much give them away.

“Harland Spencer I daresay if you do not step onto the platform and make your speech this instant you will never see the light of day again.” A squeaky voice threatened from behind the Prince and peasant, unmistakably the Queen’s. Harland removed his mask and did as he was told, thankful she took no notice of her custom dress on the girl standing beside him.

After motioning for the music to cease, an eerie silence fell over the crowd.
“Good evening,” The Prince called out, smiling kindly at his subjects. “Most of have never seen me before. My name is Harland Spencer, and it is an honour to have you attend my mother’s Solstice Masquerade. I look forward to meeting you all.”

Florian's violet eyes were drawn to the raised platform at the head of the room as the music died out. Sure enough, a boy in the most exquisite clothes now stood there, removing a white-and-gold mask from his fine-featured face.
The Prince's announcement reached accross the eerily silent ballroom with practiced clarity. Just from the way Harland Spencer held himself before the pompous crowd, it was clear he had been drilled in etiquitte and poise since his very birth. It wouldn't be at all difficult to use this against him.

Florian Locke couldn't help the smirk that touched his face. He watched Harland replace his mask and step down into the crowd, where the prince was then swarmed by party-goers eager to meet the enigmatic royal. The music started up again, as soon the dancing did too.
Florian slithered into the crowd, working his way closer and closer to his quarry. The last-minute plan was a simple one: charm the prince, lead him off to the Queen's garden (where a skiff waited, hidden in the darkness), and then fly to the Aeris. But of course, the best laid plans oft' go awry.

Florian cut through the partygoers with ease, smiling and nodding at many he had encountered earlier. He even stopped to dance with a few lovely ladies during his venture accross the ballroom, his silver tonge eliciting many a giggle. At long last, the masked pirate reached Harland Spencer, who was twirling about with a peasant girl. Oh, she looked the part of the elegant noble, but her grey slippers gave her away for the servant she was.
Florian Locke approached the duo and tapped two fingers politely on the Prince's shoulder.
"May I cut in?" The suave pirate asked, his voice a smooth, confident purr.
Harland responded with a nod, and backed away from Margaret with a smile on his face. He was expecting this stranger to dance with his servant-friend.
Contrary to the prince's expectations, however, Florian's hands found the waist of the prince himself, rather than his female companion. Purple eyes glittered with amusement behind a raven feather mask.
"Pleasure to meet you, Lord Spencer," Florian murmured, swinging the royal into a gentle gait, "You certainly look dashing this evening."

At that moment the Prince's eyes widened slightly, in curiosity rather than shock. He smiled at the masked figure, and in turn donned his own mask. Placing one hand on the raven-masked man’s shoulder blade and another in his raised hand, they revolved, breaking into an elegant waltz.
“Thank you very much indeed. Quite endearing aren’t you, Mister…?”
“Baron Lyndexter, milord.” The Baron replied with a bow of his head as they rotated once more.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Baron.” The Prince, too, bowed his head suavely. A short silence between them passed.
“I wondered, Lord Spencer, if I might interest you in a stroll, through the gardens, perhaps?”
“I’d be honoured, of course. But if you will excuse me for just a moment I must inform my date.” The Prince smiled and, after nodding curtly, disappeared into the crowd to find Margaret. He returned to the same spot he had been in before, and surely enough his raven-masked friend was there waiting. Baron Lyndexter held out his arm and at once Harland took it, gladly being escorted out of the ballroom.

The garden was like one you would see in any romance film involving a luxurious manor. A thousand tiny lights illuminated the whole of the grounds like little faeries or some other unexplainable magic temperament. It was terribly cliché, but beautiful nonetheless. Prince Harland Spencer smiled sheepishly at the Baron, as though apologetically admitting his mother had gone too far with the decorations yet again.

High in the sky, the moon shone fiercely against the dark purple sky, its pale radiance cast over everything it could. There was hardly a need for those miniature lights with such a bright moon.

“A lovely night, isn’t it?”

The music faded as the duo stepped outdoors, and Florian breathed deeply. The cool night air felt like a tiny ounce of freedom in his seemingly starved lungs. It wouldn't be long now until the pirate was back where be belonged; just a kidnapping and a short flight.
"The loveliest we've had in a long while," Florian answered absently, "The air is calm, it'll be smooth sailing-"
The sky pirate abruptly clamped his mouth shut, realizing his potentially fatal error. Discovery meant a dreadful chase sequence that might possibly end in capture, and capture that might possibly end in a hanging. On the other hand, and escape meant having to face his crew a failure, which might possibly end in mutiny, or at the very least a month of nagging by his unbearable first mate.

"Sailing? Do you have an airship?" Harland's eyes widened slightly behind his mask.
"Ah- yes," The undercover pirate smiled slyly, "Beautiful thing, she is." Perhaps he could keep the smalltalk going for a bit longer. The skiff was hidden just beyond the next fantastic hedge-sculpture.
But the Prince liked to ask exacly the wrong questions, "What's she called?"

Florian supposed he could have made up a fake name for the Aeris, and launched smoothly into a fake tale about how she traded goods with some distant country the shut-in prince had never been to. Instead, Florian panicked. He could hear other people entering the garden, and the pressure of making a clean getaway was weighting the pirate down enough to impede his chivalrous manor.
So, instead of spouting a lie, Florian Locke drew his pistol from the depths of his frock coat and dealt Harland a deft blow to the back of his head.

The pirate then lifted the light Prince off his feet and placed him carefully in the hidden skiff. When then garden cleared once more of partygoers, Florian started the engine, and the skiff floated into the sky. With a few easy pushes from practiced hands, the skiff glided into the purple night, as if eager to rejoin with the Aeris.

As the Prince's eyes fluttered open, he found himself in a room most unfamiliar. Surely if he had been in the castle he would know, recognition was no longer a choice after so many years of imprisonment. Harland momentarily squeezed his eyes shut and then blinked furiously, as if trying to wake from a hallucination. Though, much to his discontent, his eyes had not fooled him, and his surroundings did not change. It was a small room, with a dusty-looking cot sitting unused in the corner, with a seemingly empty barrel to accompany as a nightstand. The walls, ceiling and floor were all panelled with what appeared to be rather aged, grizzled wood. Seeing as the nondescript room showed no indication of his whereabouts, he supposed he’d just have to find out where he was for himself.

Just as he made to stand up, he lost balance and fell back to his previous position on the floor. The room had moved. Curious and confused, he attempted to right himself once more. He seemed to have no trouble in doing so, causing a haughty smile to creep onto his face. The Prince nodded in a display of satisfaction and headed for the door, only to be sent crashing into the panelled wall with yet another loss of balance. He shook his head, punishing himself mentally for being so clumsy. Lord Spencer’s thoughts halted briefly; one of the finest princes of the land, clumsy? Why, the thought was absurd. All those etiquette lessons pointed to the fact that definitely had nothing to do with the Prince’s stability, in any matter. It must have been the room. However the thought of a moving room seemed even more farfetched.

He strode towards the door, finding that when he pulled it open a large gust of wind struck him. It appeared as though he were on a pirate ship. Waves, he thought, now understanding why he had so much trouble standing up previously.
It was rather strange how low the clouds were in the sky, and how powerful the wind was. Harland had expected much calmer conditions at sea, though, how should he know what it was like to be in the real world?

His eyes closed against the wind, allowing it to brush his hair back off his forehead. Lord Spencer felt calm despite being the victim of someone’s obvious kidnapping. He found himself at the railing of giant boat to look at the ocean below him.
A strangled gasp escaped him as he realized the ocean was miles below him, and this ship of sorts was suspended high in the air. No, not suspended, it was moving high in the air, as though it were some kind of airplane. The disturbance moments ago must have been due to turbulence, not waves.

“Welcome to the Aeris, milord.”

Florian Locke was completely at ease, and it showed on his serene face as he smiled at the captive Prince. Long locks of obsidian hair twisted elegantly in the light breeze, no longer confined to the ponytail it had been in the night previous. The smile on his face was sly as Harland turned to face the pirate, swaying uneasily on the ever-moving deck.
"The Aeris?" Harland's expression was the epitome of confusion.
"My ship," Florian responded, stepping back and out of the noble's view, "quickest bird in the sky, she is."

The Aeris was not a large ship, her aerodynamic frame made for stealth and speedy getaways, but she was sturdy enough to take a few good hits in combat. Her steel-ribbed hull was narrow, made largely from lightweight metal. Protruding from her underbelly and sides were large fin-like sails, and near her stern on either side rested great wheels that turned gently in the wind. Above the deck, attached by thick cables was the hydrogen-filled balloon. It was caged in thin metal bars and dotted with crewmembers (secured by ropes) who periodically checked for punctures and leaks. Unlike the bulky balloons for many airships these days, the Aeris's was tapered and carefully structured so as to acchieve maximum air velocity.
At the moment, though, Captain Locke's ship wasn't racing through the atmosphere at a breakneck pace; it was drifting along in the aircurrents at a leisurely pace, having eluded and pursuers long ago.

Harland was not impressed. Okay maybe he was in the slightest, but it was his frustration and confusion that made it to his flustered face.
"Well that's nice, but I demand to know what I'm doing here!" The prince hissed, stomping one foot dramatically, "Last I checked we were just in the garden of my home!"
"Ah yes, that," Florian rubbed he back of his neck sheepishly, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but you were attacked."
Harland gasped, "Attacked?"
"Yes, he was a Duke of some sort, I didn't catch his name. The man had the audacity to strike you!" Florian was lyring smoothly, having had a long while to prepare this particular charade "You were knocked out cold, but I got you away. We're staying in the sky for a while so as to elude his henchmen."

Quite to the captain's surprise, Harland did not recognize his face or his ship, nor was the Prince suspicious at all of the thoroughly flawed lie. This was too easy, like taking candy from a baby.
"Is my mother aware of the situation?" Lord Spencer inquired, visibly easing.
The sky pirate nodded, "Oh yes, the queen trusts me compeltely with her most precious son. She has ageed it is best your you to stay up here until she can settle things with the Duke. We will rendezvous when the business is done."
Harland sighed, "That's good."
"Most definately." Florian's grin broadened, like a cat who had swallowed a canary, "Now would you care for a tour?"

Harland nodded, following the other up a flight of stairs to the helm.
“So tell me; what business does a Baron like you have with an airship? What of your duties as on land?” The Prince asked, raising an eyebrow. Baron Lyndexter paused before finding his voice.
“For purposes such as this, milord, don’t you see? The skies are much safer. I'm she doesn’t get out much, though. As you said, I am often too busy back on land to fly her.” He nodded curtly. Harland narrowed his eyes slightly.
“And how, I must ask, did you manage such an escape when that Duke was so obviously dangerous and after me? He surely wouldn’t want you to escape with me and the knowledge of his attempted crime?”
”Ah, yes. Well, I shouted for the guards, and held him off until they arrived and took care of him. Then I just carried you to the hid-… To the Queen and she suggested my ship. Of course, I agreed and here we are. Shall we continue the tour?” Harland could just see the so-called Baron cursing himself mentally. He lifted his chin, surveying the other from a different angle.
“Yes, I’d quite like to.”

- - -

“I hope this has been adequate.” The Baron bowed elegantly before Harland, who smiled at him.
“Your ship is exquisite, Baron.”
“Thank you, milord.”
“However, I would like to see the Captain’s cabin, if that could be arranged?” The smile didn’t leave the prince’s face.
“Of course, right this way.” The Baron showed the way, but looked uneasy. Harland would laugh if he hadn’t wished he was wrong about his assumption.
“It’s not much. Not to mention it’s a mess.” The Baron opened the door, but did not walk inside. He looked as though he didn’t intend on staying there long.
“Nonsense, it’s lovely.”

Just as Harland made to walk into the cabin, he heard a loud voice from the main deck sounding panicked.
“Captain! We’re rapidly approaching unauthorized area, and we must steer clear, do you understand?”
“You stay here, I’ll be back shortly.” The Baron ordered promptly before rushing to the helm. Harland took this as an opportunity.
He entered the cabin hastily, careful not to put anything out of place. He scanned the walls for a telltale sign of mistaken identity, and his eyes rested on a small newspaper clipping, complete with a picture of the Baron shaking hands with the mayor. Harland had seen the mayor in his home before, and he knew the face well enough to realize that, according to a caption underneath the photograph, the man supposedly shaking his hand was named Florian Locke. Florian Locke? That sounded nothing like Baron Lyndexter.
His eyes moved to the desk, every inch of which was scattered with documents and maps. It all seemed to relate to East India, so Harland shifted his gaze around at the neatly-made bed, and the similar barrel night stand he had in his own cabin. Returning to the desk, he carefully peeled a map off a stack of worn papers and found it hard to conceal a gasp. Harland had come across a map of the castle, his home, covered with red ink. The ink was shaped into arrows and circling entrances, as though it were an entry plan of some sort. It appeared the so called Baron was not a Baron at all. Before he could return the papers to their original places, he heard a cold voice coming from the doorway.
“Oh dear, you’re going to regret that.”