Sivroc Niova de Necia

An Opportunistic Entrepreneur

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For all the remarkable architecture of the world, there were always a few aspects which seem the same no matter where you go. Kitchens, lavatories, or, in this particular case, dungeons were all prime examples of this. The holding cell was simple enough, dank stone walls, rusted iron door, and a “center piece”, if it could be called that, consisting a heavy wooden table flanked by equally heavy chairs. Peering through the narrow slit in the door, a tribune and the jailor stared in at the sailor chained to the table. With a deliberate emphasis, he pulled his tight gloves on, speaking to the jailor without turning, “Is this the one who was smuggling heretical contraband?”

“Ye… yes, sir.” the jailor responded.

Still staring through the slit, he gave a curt nod. “Open it,” he paused a moment while the jailor opened the door, “and see to it that we are not disturbed.” The tribune stepped in as the door was shut behind him, waking the sailor with a jerk. The sailor stared wide eyed at the tribune as settled into the chair across from him. The silence permeated the air as the tribune leisurely took out a small scroll of paper and rolled it out on the table. On it was the sketch of a rakish man in his late twenties, his features hinted at Necian nationality.

The tribune pulled out his dagger, slowly inspecting the blade before plunging it into the scroll pinning it table, prompting another jump from the sailor, and the rattle of chains to reverberate through the room. “Do you recognize this man?” The sailor quickly worked his jaw, but managed only a meek shake if his head. “I don’t like being lied to, Mr. Flynn. This is Sivroc Niova de Necia. You worked for him.” The tribune smiled at the flicker of recognition on the man’s face, and leaned in over the table. “You worked for a man guilty of a litany of crimes, including smuggling, impersonating an officer of the guard, impersonating a clergy of the six different deities, arson, kidnapping, perjury, piracy, pilfering, larceny, and more crimes too sinister and numerous for me to waste the time explaining to you.” He paused, sitting back into his chair. “We’ve taken his ship, but we need him. Suffice it to say information you were to provide would bring this man to judgment, it would surely cleanse you of your sins.”

Flynn shifted uncomfortably in his chains, “Beggin’ yer pardon, gov. But, ‘ow do I know ye won’t scuttle me once I tell ye?”

The tribune gave a knowing smile, he pulled his dagger from the table. “Because, you will be dead before you tell anyone.” he whispered, and with a flicker of motion he slashed forward, slitting Flynn’s throat. “I do not abide traitors.” As the life drained from Flynn’s throat, realization dawned in his eyes and he mouthed a single world, “Sivroc.”

Pocketing the sketch and turning on his heel as the man gurgled his last gasp, Sivroc rapped his knuckles on the door. As the jailor opened the door for him, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began cleaning his blade, “Bring me Niova’s file and a quill.” The jailor ambled off as Sivroc finished cleaning his blade and re sheathed it, just as the jailor returned. Taking the parchment, he quickly scrawled another line on the crowded sheet, “Impersonating a Tribune of the Theocracy.” Some would say taunting the Cantabrians like this was foolish, but they’d stolen his ship. And he wanted them to know the enemy they’d made.

As he wrote, he spoke to the jailor, “By the judgment of Tribune Reyes, I find Mr. Flynn to be a heretic. He has been executed appropriately. Though before he died, he divulged new crimes on behalf of Niova. I am sealing this record to Tribunes only.” He folded the parchment and handed it back to the jailor, “See to it that this is filed appropriately.” Calling out over his shoulder as he walked away, “Oh, and clean out that cell.”


Sivroc was reveling in the fresh breeze against his face as he exited the citadel, finally free of the irritating facial mask, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and a gruff voice spoke, “Do I know you?”

Turning to give the man a practiced smile, Sivroc spoke, “Tribune Reyes! It’s been too long.” he reached out to shake his hand, “I’ve not seen you since, the last time I was in the capitol. I’d love to catch up, but I really must catch my ship. And I believe you have a prisoner waiting for your… expertise.” Reyes held the hand shake a few moments longer as he studied Sivroc’s face, before releasing it with a shrug, “Yes…. you are right. Good day, Tribune.”

Sivroc Niova de Necia

Adoraith: The Age of Sail CorvisOrion