[Mock-Fiction] V - Fures Misericordiam

Note: Please read the Formal Notice movella. It should be on the list on the right hand side.

Aye. Tis me again.

Cover by Secrets Unfold


31. 29 – The Return of the Fugitive

Jess stood silently in her cabin and looked fondly at a treasure map, tracing over the pencil-drawn lines with her forefinger. She was a spritely young girl of about fifteen (or so she looked). But she was a Timelord, and that could have meant she was anywhere between two decades or a few centuries old. And as for the treasure map, it had been uncovered by her predecessor, Vesp, but after he died and all his family were murdered – it just so happened that Jess inherited everything he owned, being his succeeding Timelord. It was much more than Jess could have hoped for, especially now that she was on probation.


The Council of Timelords and Dimensional Shunters (or CTDS) had been quite lenient on her for pulling out many otherworldly characters from space and time last year, considering that the fate of the whole world was at stake. Technically, she was to be carefully monitored by a strict senior Timelord, kept within the precincts of her home in Nassau, and kept away from any Pieces of Eden for two whole years. However, the punishment was thinned to her being only check one by a Timelord of fairly equal standing, and she was free to roam about Nassau and sail Vesp’s ship, the MB Tardis, as far as the nearest Caribbean island. Her usage of the Pieces of Eden, however, was restricted, but her stay in probation wouldn’t last more than nine months. It was a pleasant time, like a holiday, but Jess often found it tedious and pointless.


Little did she know what a comfort tedium was until she lost it abruptly.


Jess stared at the corner of her cabin and wrinkled her nose.

“You weren’t there before,” she said, staring at Mariqah, who was sitting huddled in a corner, “And you stink.”

“Was sent back in time,” Mariqah mumbled.

“Back in time?” Jess straightened a little, “By who?”

“No idea,” Mariqah continued to mumble, “Edward Kenway dropped in on me, and I thought I’d bring him to you, but then a portal took us both back to the eighteenth century. A place where everybody stank, rats were about everywhere and the food was horrible.”
“Why are you saying this with a frown on your face then?”

Mariqah sighed, “Because… Because…” she turned away and rose to her feet, “Because I felt at home there. Even if they were sailors.”

“But I’m back now, and I have so many things to do,” Mariqah stretched her neck, “Things I don’t want to do.”

“Wait, so all this happened without somebody monitoring you? It’s a miracle you’re alive!”

“I don’t know… could it be because of the Rifts that opened last year? It unbalanced space and time?”

“Really? Isn’t it a little arrogant to think that you or I or anybody could destroy a dimension as powerful as Time?” Jess laughed, “Don’t be daft, Rogue. It means somebody’s been messing with you. Probably some novice in training having a laughabout. Come with me. If you report it to the Council, they can sort it out for you.”


“Can’t I have someone reporting it for me?” said Mariqah, wearily, “I have to get to Normandy. Take me there. I’ve wars to fight. Rebellions to quell. And a… a snake to kill.”

“I can’t take you anywhere, Rogue,” said Jess, “I’m on probation. The Tardis is pretty much docked for a while. And, no, someone else can’t report it for you. You experienced the prank, you should grass the pranker. And about this snake…?”

“You haven’t heard? About Richard?”

“Please, Rogue, I’m a Timelord. Of course I’ve heard about Richard! But what’s that got to do with a snake?”

“Jess, ‘snake’ is a metaphor for Richard.”

Oh, I see! And you need to go… Wait, you need to go kill him?”

“Well, not necessarily me, but I’d prefer it that way,” Mariqah saw the confusion on Jess’s face, “You’ve no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Of course I do! Richard… he did something wrong!”
Mariqah raised her brows, “Really? That’s all you’ve got?”

Jess folded her arms, “Don’t rub it in. I’ve been bound to the tedium of domesticity for ages now!”


Mariqah briefly explained all that had happened in the last few months – the death of Lodovico Smith; the threat of his son, Simeon, who thought he could take the crown even though his father hadn’t meant for him to take it; the betrayal of Richard and Britney, the several arrests they had made; and Mariqah’s… adventures in Britain.

“You raised a whole rebellion?” said Jess.

“Aye,” said Mariqah.

“A whole rebellion?”

“Where are you taking this Jess?”

“Nowhere, except that that’s all round madness, Rogue!” she giggled.

“Oh, sod your banter! I need to get to bleedin’ France before the everything goes top-side!”

Jess’s eyes widened, “You really were hanging about with pirates… And maybe not too nice ones, either.”
“Please, I was friend and family before I even said my name!” said Mariqah angrily, “But enough of that – I need out, damn it!”

“I told you. I can’t take you. But I can take you to the Council and–”


A person appeared in front of them in a shimmer of white. He held a piece of paper in his hands.

“Greetings. Midnight Rogue, Jess,” he said solemnly, acknowledging them with a slight nod of his head.

“All right, who’s this jester?” Mariqah asked Jess.

“This ‘jester’,” the man said indignantly, “is a member of the Council. Mr Wraggs, if you please.”
“Oh, well, Mister Wraggs, I’ve much to tell ye,” scowled Mariqah, digging her forefinger sharply into his chest and pressing him back, “Much to tell, indeed – and believe me, you won’t be all high an’ mighty when I’m done tellin’!” she barked in his face, “I’ve been dragged into time more than I please of late – and more so by a certain pirate in the eighteenth century! I haven’t so much as batted an eyelid before, but now you’ve taken the biscuits, the tea and the bloomin’ table-cloth! I do not appreciate a naked pirate in my hampers! I do not appreciate being set off my course by a Time-Seam in a warehouse where I’m taking life-saving, self-induced vaccines! And I do not appreciate spending time with sea-bound, piss-smelling drunks; getting used to them and callin’ ’em friends; and then having to have to part company of ‘em once I start learnin’ their shanties!” she gritted her teeth, “You’ll bloomin’ well get to the bottom of this bottle and offer me compensation – or you God damn will regret it, Mister Wraggs!”


Mr Wraggs cowered back and handed her the sheet of paper, “Master Dante has sent you word. This came two weeks ago,” he said quickly.
Mariqah glared at him, “It’s Mr Dante, if you please!” she snatched the page out of his hand and skimmed through the words, “I must make haste to Normandy,” she muttered, putting the page down, looking serious, “No excuses and no questions asked. There’s trouble brewing and I’ll need to be there when it knocks on my fortress doors!” she turned to Jess, “You’ll take me? They’ll let you, won’t they?”

“Probation…” was the only word Jess could say.

Probation!” Mariqah spat, “What probation! You’re practically on holiday out here, Jess!”

“We could organise a trial–” Mr Wraggs began.

“For God’s sake, you’re Timelords!” Mariqah protested, “I don’t have time for a bloomin’ trial! Why take a month to sort out one problem, when you could get me over there in a day and have me sort out much bigger ones!”

“Jess cannot–”


“Please, Mr Wraggs,” said Jess, calmly, “I think there’s someone I can send you with. Another Timelord I know and trust well. She owns a brig, big and fast enough to sail you over to Normandy – the MB Story Teller – no questions asked. She might want payment though.”

“Least of my worries, Jess,” said Mariqah, “Who are you pointing at?”

“One named, Nightshade. Ahlaam Nightshade.”

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