Role

Chapter 1

A Job Well Done

"The Lord is ready for you, Master Merigan."

Merigan stepped past the eunuch servant lightly, wrinkling his nose as he got
a whiff of the eunuch's perfume. "Lilac and gooseberries, Tradon? You smell
like a common whorehouse. Correct it."

The servant flushed and looked down as Merigan passed. "As you say, Master."

Merigan nodded, pleased, and stepped into his father's office.

Lord Najjar had done exceedingly well as the head of their noble house, even
against the rising tariffs of the Sultan in the past decade. He had grown a
relatively quaint fishing legacy into one of the premiere shipping fleets of
Hamsah. Years ago, when Merigan had been a babe, other nobles sniggered of
House Najjar's prospects and middling wealth. Barbs about the smell of fish,
of how House Najjar grew flippers instead of legs. But as the coffers of House
Najjar grew steadily, the jokes tapered off and then disappeared entirely, and
the groveling had begun. They had begun to call his father the Sea Bear, not
in jest, but out of respect.

Merigan had found that he quite liked groveling. At least on the receiving
end.

For all his success, though, Lord Najjar's office still bore the trappings of
a sailor. His father's old wheel, a maple and brass behemoth, was mounted
behind the large mahogany desk that was cluttered with sentimental navigation
devices and a veritable pile of parchment scrolls.

Lord Najjar himself loomed behind the desk, and the trappings of a sailor were
evident in him too. The finery he bedecked himself with, as was expected for
one of his status, was belied by his broad shoulders and his heavily muscled
figure - although, Merigan thought, he had let his belly go in the past few
years. A few more years and he'd be the Sea Bear no longer - Sea Whale would
be more fitting. Or, if one were not inclined to redundancy, simply the Whale.
Merigan almost sniggered but caught himself.

"Lord Najjar," he said formally, stepping around the large visitor's chair to
present himself to his father.

His father looked up from the scroll he'd been examining and rolled his eyes.
"Seat yourself, Merigan. Civility is a terrible look on you."

Merigan smirked and collapsed into the plush velvet chair, and begun examining
his nails. "And what do I owe the pleasure, father? I have not been in this
office for, dare I say, nigh a year."