“Well then,” Brooke started.
“I only see one way forward.” Everyone looked at her. “You’ll sail under the
Lidarion royal flag. Let’s find out what the estimated value of the boat is and
we will bring it plus ten percent in gold.” She sounded like she was planning a
boring reception.
Trent waved his hand. “Brooke
that’s- “ He started.
She stood up. “The easiest
solution to our most recent problem. There will be others and I was going
already so don’t even start on that.” She smiled sweetly as she stared him
down. “Those people are my friends and their families and short of giving away
the kingdom to set them free I will do it. This isn’t just your burden, it
never was.” She finished her thought and sat back down.
Trart nodded, agreeing with
everything she had said. But he decided to finish his sentence anyway. “Going
to take up a lot of weight on the boat.” He smiled at her.
Everyone waited silently took
see how long Brooke could hold out until she smiled. She lasted less than five
seconds. “I hate you.” She threw a cloth napkin at Trent.
Dean stood up. “I greatly appreciate the assistance, and would be more than glad to take you to Cela’an, so please allow me to make two corrections to your plan. First the Womamel is a ship, not a boat. And secondly and I’m going to guess that I’m the only one present who has ever even met an elf, take that ten percent and bring it in the form of Lidarion’s best wine.” He stood. “I am beyond glad to have met you all, the Womamel will be ready to sail in thirty six hours, and we’re coming to the end of the smooth sailing season and will be cutting it close on passing through the southern straits as it is, so I’d recommend leaving no later than three days from now.” He walked over to the door and held it open. “You know where to find me, you all have a good evening.” He said as he left the bar.
