the-empires:

The fire crackling in the hearth of the withdrawing room held Bram’s distant interest as he mused to himself. Five months had passed since the revered sea officer’s disappearance – and not a witness nor accessory nor behaviour of discontent could account for his whereabouts. The major had a strong opinion of Hornblower; he thought the seaman was eccentric and untoward and playfully insubordinate, but cowardly was not and never one of them. Of all the men he would think would desert, Hornblower was the very last. 

Desertion was a weak explanation, however. If he wanted to leave the Navy and it’s clutches ( an ambitious task, indeed ), there would be no reason for him to return. Wherever Hornblower had run off to was, no doubt, a better option than returning to be executed as a traitor. Bram did not think Mister Hornblower was a fool, either. 

No, there was something quite strange afoot.

He leaned back on the tufted back of the chaise, letting his winding thoughts burn in the fire as he awaited Mister Hornblower. The maid set a silver tray down on the wooden accent table and glanced to the master of the house, opening her mouth as if to ask how he wanted his tea. He cut her off, dismissing her politely. When she did not react how he intended, Bram clarified and thanked her for her work and told her to go home early. She blinked with surprise and a smile, leaving the drawing room quickly. 

He took the teapot, white porcelain with flowering forget – me – nots crawling from the handle to the spout, and poured himself a cup of tea. The ceylon leaves gave the hot water the hue of an Indian summer, golden, nearly amber in its strong hue. Bram dropped a perfectly shaped cube of sugar in the teacup just as Hornblower entered, looking every bit the gentleman he had been. 

Bram waved away Hornblower’s gratitude with the silver teaspoon. 

A wistful smile grew on his face as the man went on. Where the Devil has he been?! It’s a question he’s sure he’s not the first to wonder and is confident he will not be the last to think it, if he knows anything about Hornblower. “It’s so very queer, Mister Hornblower,” he said after taking a sip of tea with an air of well – refined insouciance. “One of the Navy’s finest young officers vanishes without a trace, leaving us to believe you simple fell of the end of the world … or deserted. Neither can be so, though. I have always taken you for a man above such childish acts of cowardice and treason. I am eager to learn the truth, if you will tell it.” His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised the man, who, even after a thorough bath and donning expensive clothes, still possessed an air of wildness about him. “Would you care for some tea?”

“To think your half of the tale is the tame portion,” Horatio offered softly, “Queer does not even begin to describe my life since I was hauled from the Indefatigable.” His choice of words deliberate – he had not had any choice in the matter of his leaving the service, but now was not yet the time to get into it. Instead he smiled, and chose to accept tea with grace first, admittedly needing the heat in his stomach to strengthen his resolve against the cold English air, and the unsettlingly fragile refinement by which he was now surrounded.

He still retained proper etiquette – if, perhaps, more pronounced than it used to be, for the sorts of civilized men he had dealt with in the Caribbean were even more uptight than the ones today, to put matters rather mildly. In comparison to the man of – by Edrington’s recollection – mere months ago, however, it was a great deal more natural. The stiffness and displeasure was gone from him, and he seemed to ease into matters as if he had been taking part in dignified ceremonies such as this the whole of his life.

“You are of course quite right in your assessment – desertion has never been in the cards, and I’ve too great a loyalty to my king and country for treason.” Horatio wasn’t even sure if that was true, but he had loyalty to men who did hold the crown as absolute and that would simply have to suffice. Furrowing his brow, Horatio carefully lowered the china cup to its home upon the saucer and confessed, “I am afraid the tale itself is – very troubling, and has potential for great impact on our nation if only it might be heard by the appropriate parties. Unfortunately politics – as you may recall – are not my strongest suit.” Diplomacy was not a game he had played well in the past, though he was rather adept at its trickery now. 

Meeting the other man’s gaze, there was no lie in his earnest manner now, for his desperation was quite real. If this venture failed, he would have no choice but to go about matters above and beyond the law – and he didn’t want to take such actions if he could in any way help it. 

“I would like to tell you everything, the whole of it in fact, though I must ask that you bear with me. I have means of proving my words, but what I need first is to impress that I have only the desire to return to my station aboard the Indefatigable, or whatever ship our Navy deems most applicable. I have no wish for the truth to be known beyond where it would be most useful, and I have no notion of where to begin on that score – but I do know that you are a much more diplomatic person than myself, and perhaps with your understanding of both the present climate and my tale, you may perhaps be kind enough to direct me in what I ought to do next for the sake of our security in this blasted war.” The last thing England needed, after all, was Napoleon with a witch at his disposal – or any of the artifacts in which Horatio was tasked to reawaken.  

the-empires:

_{“Hmm,” said Edrington, seemingly unamused. “I would be honoured nonetheless by your presence from beyond the grave.” As much as it would have been easier to, he knew he could not turn the man away. Good hospitality was not only a passion of his, but simply a way of life. And though Edrington wondered what was left of the man that served, he would never turn away an officer to His Majesty’s Navy. Edrington was no blaspheme.} 

_{However, his genteel code was pushed to the brink; he was wary of the wild man that turned up at his doorstep. Bram could hardly blame the maid for not wishing to answer the door, and he would not fault her for feeling so. Hornblower’s unkempt appearance ( a grandiose understatement ) pushed him far from even the very fraying fringes of society – any society. Save piracy, perhaps. Surely, Hornblower would not drift so far, no matter where the winds of life pushed him. Edrington simply did not know the trials that could push one to being such a scoundrel.} 

_{“I suppose you should come in and sit and I’ll have my maid pour out for us.” Edrington figured that, Hornblower allowing, he would quarter him at his estate until he could get word to the Admiralty about their missing pup and further action could be taken. Action being a court martial, most likely; who was to say where this young man had gone and why when his person belonged to the British Navy? In the meantime, he could make himself presentable to befit anyone who was allowed a room in Lawrence Bram Edrington’s home. “Perhaps a bath would do you good, as well. New clothes, too, if you wish.”}

Horatio’s lips twitched slightly – Edrington’s diplomatic manner had not changed in the slightest. Though he supposed that was understandable, considering the time that had passed for him was so much shorter than the time that had travelled for Horatio. Regardless, he had a feeling Edrington would be far from honored to be pestered by any ghost, let alone the one of Horatio Hornblower. Still – a genteel sentiment, if nothing else. 

At the offer of tea and a bath, Horatio could not help but look relieved. “I would greatly appreciate a bath, and some proper attire,” He assured, knowing full well his appearance was a fright. He had no objection to his clothes – in fact he was quite fond of them, and in the Caribbean he would hardly be amiss even now. Here, however, in the height of English gentry, it was best to appear as appalled as he was certain Edrington felt. 

Hospitality proved to be an impressive rule on the Edrington estate, for Horatio found his needs tended to with a sort of strict efficiency that seemed quite suited to Edrington’s no nonsense personality – even in kindness, everything was done with brisk exactitude, as though these courtesies were little more than expectation. Horatio supposed for Edrington, they were just that – acts that were expected of a man of his station to be capable of providing. 

Bathing took a longer time than Horatio might have liked, and he could not help but grimace at the grime his body left in its wake. There was a certain difference between what was acceptable in English society and what passed for good enough in the Caribbean. Horatio remembered all too well the exacting nature of his proper time period and washed up accordingly, which naturally meant a great deal more process than he had needed to bother with in some time. 

He felt strangely ill at ease once all the kohl, paint, ash and other markings of his life had been stripped away, leaving behind a body that bore little sign of its arcane nature once made bare of all such trappings. In the mirror, Horatio could see his age starkly – not just in the length of his hair, but in the wear of his eyes and the fitness of his form. He was fuller than before, more defined than in wiry youth, and it made him glad of the clothes that would conceal a large portion of his truth. 

Once dressed, Horatio carefully concealed his belt’s contents upon his person, and took time to brush his hair out so as to not appear completely wild despite the fine dress. After some consideration, he made use of one of his hair ties to keep it all drawn back at the nape of his neck for some semblance of propriety, and considered that to be well enough before he made his way down to meet with Edrington for tea and doubtless, some manner of discussion. 

This, of course, would be the more difficult portion. Horatio needed to prepare himself for questioning, as doubtless the sensationalized manner of his disappearance and his sudden return were grounds for suspicion of desertion. The obvious matter of time would likely go overlooked – magic was widely dismissed in this era, and that a man could go ten years while barely a single year passed for the rest of the world was too much to bear, Horatio was quite certain. 

But he needed the admiralty and his old position – it would make things ever so much easier – and his best chance at obtaining those things would be convincing Edrington of his tale – and seeking his advice on how to manage something so political as this. The navy and the military were not so different on account of matters such as cowardice and desertion – if he could convince Edrington he possessed no cowardice, and had not chosen to desert, then perhaps he had some manner of hope ahead for an easy path.

Upon reaching the drawing room, Horatio painted on a grateful smile – and it was true, his gratitude, though the smile felt wrong on his face without the tightness of salt and kohl crinkling against his eyes in the action. Some part of him also registered that his old stoic self had smiled so rarely, it was possible the action might make a stranger of him all over again. 

“I cannot begin to thank you enough, my lord,” Horatio professed as he took his seat, the title coming naturally and with due deference – something his old self had railed at, and managed quite often to avoid using at all times ( and always sounding terribly stiff about it, rather than at ease with the social distance between himself and the major ) but Horatio had since spent a decade learning the value of respecting a man’s pride in his title only so far as needed to manipulate him through it. 

“It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to enjoy the comforts of a civilized society,” Honeyed and earnest words came easily to him, and there was truth enough behind them to cast little doubt. “I fear I may be out of my depth with all that has changed,” And here, he offered the window for investigation openly, leaving the power to direct in Edrington’s court, where doubtless it would be most comfortable.

@the-empires continued from [x]

Five years in the Caribbean had committed dramatic changes to Horatio Hornblower. He had reached a point in which he did not chase the way back fervently, for the chances were that he would have nothing to return to should he manage to find a means of returning to his proper timeline. 

Having followed his mentor’s instructions on what he intended to be his last attempt, Horatio had found himself abruptly transported back to what he recognized almost vaguely as England. His attire was out of place, his questions avoided by men and women who gave him alarmed looks and wide berths. His shirt was nearly a century out of date, his hair was loose and wild at his elbows and his skin was dark next to those who spent life so far from the sun. His pants were belted by a colorful sash, a cutlass, and a series of pouches. A knife hilt could be seen in his boot. 

He understood their alarm when he saw his reflection in a shop window – but that understanding did not satisfy his need for answers. Eventually, through a paperboy who seemed to think he was a pirate and was only too excited to talk to him because of that misunderstanding, Horatio gleaned that he had been gone five months ( so short a time in exchange for the understanding he had obtained! ) and was apparently some strange ghost story now. Finally, he learned he was in – of all places – Berwick-upon-Tweed. 

There was a significance to it he could not place until he asked who the lord in charge of the region was, knowing his best bet of restoring himself would be approaching matters in the most direct fashion. It was with relief and trepidation both that he made his way directly to the manor house of Lord Edrington – a man he remembered as duty-oriented and far wiser than he in the ability to hold a tongue in check. 

Turning to him felt strange, but he could hope, at least, that he would be recognized enough his tale would bear some merit. Although, he supposed his method of greeting was lacking – years with pirates who needed the obvious handed to them on a silver platter did take a bit of a toll. “Yes I – suppose my being here rather proves it. You’d be an odd choice to haunt,” He offered, smiling a moment despite the fact they’d never had a rapport close enough for jesting.

Sobering, he spread his hands in a placating manner, before confessing, “I honestly do not know what to do. I heard where I was, and it made sense to speak to the one person who might know me. I’m afraid I hadn’t thought past that point.” He had – but there was no easy way of getting to it, and if Edrington had no interest in assisting him with the most basic of things, there was certainly no way he could expect more, so why lay every card on the table?