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The navy blue uniform of the Imperial Scouts was much duller up close, Frederic noted, but their presence made a more vivid impression than when he'd spotted them in parades and royal events in the past. They were quick and brutally efficient, arresting the living raiders on board without so much as a blink, the cyphers on the arms of several Scouts lighting up and putting down what resistance there was left in them. They also took away the dead, carrying them on stretchers that soon turned brown and stained. The body of the enormous otherkind that Dane had put down took two stretchers and five men. The rest of the Daruna crew came up on deck amid Scouts, a few helping to secure the ship to the HMS Celestiana, freeing Myka from the helm. Only once it was clear that the Daruna was safe did the Scouts clear the gangplank for the prince to cross over to their ship as his name and titles were announced. Leading by example, Frederic bowed first, fist over his heart, so when Prince Jovan walked on deck, all he saw at first were his boots.

"Do you have a healer, Frederic?"

His heart raced, more than it had in battle, he thought. Having not heard the order to stand, he remained bent at the waist, watching the boots step closer. "I beg your pardon, your highness?"

"A healer, someone with medical acumen." The boots stopped in a practiced stance. "You appear to be bleeding, Captain."

Prince Jovan chuckled softly, called 'At ease', and the Daruna crew stood as one. Dane and Bassett were the exception, leaning on their fellows as they were. The prince looked as polished as the Imperial Scouts were intimidating, with his feathered black hair holding a shine to it, his clothes tailored and made of expensive fabrics. "Geoffrey," the tall man who stood at Jovan's left snapped to attention. "Invite our mage guest to the Daruna if you please. Ask if she'd be amenable to use her healing patterns."

"Not necessary, your highness," Frederic said in a rush, and Jovan held up a hand which stopped his manservant mid-step. "If you give me a moment to organize my crew, the ship's doctor can take over and I'll be at your command."

"Certainly, Captain," Jovan agreed easily. His eyes, bright honey brown, scrutinized Frederic from toe to tip. "In the meantime, I’d like to inspect the cargo I sent along with you."

"I'll have someone escort you," he replied and turned half a step to glance back at someone who had more or less escaped the attack unscathed. Thomson, catching his eye, prepared to step forward, but Frederic gave him a sharp shake of his head. "Ruth, please, if you could," he said quietly. His first mate calmly handed Dane to Carissa's care without comment, taking charge of Prince Jovan and his man Geoffrey. The Imperial Scouts were far enough away that for a moment, Frederic felt like he could take a deep breath.

Upon the exhale, he had rounded on Thomson.

"If you ever pretend to give orders on my ship again, I will personally see you in the stocks, do you understand me," and Frederic was comforted by how Thomson straightened his posture, glad at least that one of his crew would react appropriately. The gunner murmured something to the affirmative, and the captain's eyes flickered to the others. "Bohman," he barked, and all three Barristers paused. Bassett didn't have much choice, as he was supported between the other two. "You abandoned your post."

"Sir, my brother—" Bohman started, but Frederic waved his hand at him.

"That's no excuse. I know what it's like to serve with family, but unless you are dead or dying, you should not have left the helm. Bohman, you are hereby demoted from your post until further notice." Frederic didn’t waver, felt the scrutiny of everyone on deck crawl over his skin, and calmly kept Bohman's gaze though the man looked enraged. "You'll join your brothers as a deckhand until I say otherwise. Myka," the deaf man jumped in his skin, his shoulders up to his ears. Frederic made sure to step in front of him before speaking. "Good work. I'd like to hire you as our pilot. Freelance to start, but I'd sponsor you with the SMS if you'd like to stay on. For now, help the good doctor take her patients down below.”

Julius' hand on his shoulder seemed to wake Myka from his daze and the latter moved forward to help with Otha and the others. The engineer gave Frederic a lingering look before jogging over to help Bonnie to her feet. "Master Culton," the captain called out, and the old man perked up. "I'd like to have the paperwork drawn up as soon as possible."

"There's blood on the deck and the man wants me thinking of paperwork," Cornelius muttered under his breath, while Neonna patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

Frederic turned again to Thomson who had remained silent after the first reprimand. "Gunner Hess, I need you to conduct weapon lessons twice a day, starting tomorrow, mandatory in the crew member's off shift. Once Dane is feeling up to it, please consult with him on converting one of the pantries into an armory."

Neonna, who had been following Cornelius on his heels, stopped and turned back. "I beg your pardon, Captain?"

"This is not up for discussion, Neonna," he replied.

"The vegetables pantry or the grains pantry?"

"The bigger one," Frederic said testily, and Neonna drew herself up, glanced at Thomson before making a clicking noise with her tongue and stalking after Cornelius.

"It's a good idea, Captain," Thomson said, looking down when Frederic only glared.

"No more sleeping down in the hold with your guns," he ordered. "Store them in the new armory, and then move your things into the fourth bunk room. Julius will know where to find a hammock. Are we clear?" The gunner saluted instead of replying and Frederic motioned for him to go, head swimming with the thought of going down to the hold and confronting the prince. Carissa, running back up the stairs, came right up to him. "What? Can it wait? I don't want to leave Ruth alone too long."

"You're still bleeding?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Unless you were going to scold it to stop."

Frederic pulled back his jacket and irrationally felt like pointing out that the bleeding had slowed, but instead he merely nodded at her to continue. She pulled his shirt up and suddenly blinked, a blush tinging her cheeks. "Hold this," she said shortly. The captain barely noticed, holding both articles of clothing, the hard lines of his stomach twitching as she cleaned the blood away with a damp cloth. Pressing a pad of clean bandage to the wound, Carissa wound a strip around the captain's core, turning her head aside so she wouldn't touch him as she passed it around his back. She did another round as quickly as possible and stepped back, red-faced, tying the bandage off snugly and letting Frederic tuck his shirt back in.

"Thanks, Doc," he said quietly, and the half smile she gave him seemed more at ease.

"It'll hold for a minute, long enough anyway. Go." She gestured at the stairs, and he didn't need telling twice. He hurried down the stairs, barely heard Carissa following a length behind, and noted distantly that the matrameter had been moved from the bottom of the steps. There was a general feeling of bustling, his crew flitting from room to room, but they ducked into doorways to let him pass straight below to the hold. Across from the stairs, Thomson was organizing his things; the prince and his manservant were standing next to the cargo. Ruth appeared a moment later, handing Geoffrey a crowbar and from his thanks, Frederic could only assume the prince had requested it.

"The raiders didn't make it down here, Prince Jovan, I assure you," he said immediately, looking the crates over for any tampering, but everything was strapped down as it had been that morning when he had checked on it. It was a small miracle that Frederic hadn’t gotten any closer because at that same moment, Geoffrey stabbed the cargo box with the crowbar. There was a lightning snap of pattern energy and the metal rod went flying back, missing the captain by a few feet. Ruth stepped towards the prince's manservant, thunder in her eyes, almost comical because of their height difference, but the tension was shattered suddenly when Jovan laughed.

He held a hand to his stomach, he was laughing so hard.

"You haven't even tried to open it, have you?" The prince asked, staring at Frederic in what could only be called wonder. "I apologize, Captain, but it's just so rare that I am surprised, much less to this degree. Geoffrey, the room, please."

The manservant turned to Ruth who had yet to ease from her stance. "The prince needs to speak with Captain Lassiter," he spoke mildly. He was bent at the waist and held out an arm as if to escort her, but Ruth looked over at Frederic for approval first. It struck him anew, her loyalty to him, the weight of it, and with a heavy feeling in his chest, he nodded to her. Her expression soured, she raised an eyebrow at Geoffrey and walked by his proffered hand, hissing at Thomson to get his bloomers later. The gunner followed hastily.

He watched them go and when Frederic turned back, the prince had picked up the fallen crowbar and returned to the boxes. The captain tensed for the same reaction as before but this time the metal sank into the wood and he pried off the top to reveal a crate... full of apples. "Imagine how embarrassed those raiders would have been," Jovan said lightly, reaching in for a fruit and wiping it on his sleeve, like he was in the market. "They should be happy I arrived when I did."

"Thank you," the captain choked out. "For the timely rescue." Manners were easy to fall back on, easier than trying to look away from the crate full of fruit that his crew had just risked their lives defending. He swallowed the fierce urge to go upstairs and check on them, drawn back to the moment when Jovan bit into his apple.

"This wasn't a rescue," the prince said, speaking around his mouthful. "I was tracking you because I thought you might be in collusion with the resistance but instead here you are, under attack by them. Brilliant." Jovan laughed again, rolling his eyes and swallowing. "I did not see that coming. Geoffrey, did I see that coming?"

"It was not on your list of contingencies, sir." The manservant replied, standing with his hands behind his back three feet away from the prince. Frederic heard him as though from far away, gaze affixed on the shiny red skin of the apple in the prince's hand, until he focused enough to see those light brown eyes watching him, dancing with mirth.

"Are you figuring it out now?" He said quietly, the lines of his body coiling, his pitch lowering in amusement. "You are, I can tell. I had to see what you would do, under the protection of my banner. The ceremonies, the awards, I all but threw you a parade, Captain. I haven't done that for anyone else that's saved my life. Geoffrey, have I ever shown you a display of gratitude because you saved my life?"

"No, sir," the manservant replied, gaze hardly wavering from its forward position.

"Exactly, and Geoffrey has saved my life about twenty more times than you have."

"Twenty-one." Geoffrey glanced at him sideways, and his eyes flicked forward again. "There was an assassin during your evening meal last week. As I recall, you didn't wish to be disturbed."

The prince nodded, and thanked his manservant for the consideration, an exchange that ended abruptly with the third man's quiet but firm assertion.

"You used me," Frederic said.

"We used each other, I thought," Jovan immediately replied. "Nobles lining up to thank you, your ship getting the fastest, top of the line repairs, getting your ass kissed from here to the Ellery Tower. Tit for tat, Captain. The only difference is that I thought you might lead me to the instigators of the attack on Tierra Lue, and instead I find out you've got a sense of honor, so if you think about it, which one of us really lost out on this whole venture?"

The rage buzzing under his skin suddenly calmed, leaving Frederic staring wide-eyed. "Prince Jovan, your highness," licking his lips, he shifted on his feet and took a shuddering breath. "You're investigating the attack?"

And Jovan smiled, just for a moment.