"The usual. The queen has sat on her throne long enough that some nobles consider replacing her. It happens all the time in these little unsteady kingdoms, where they rely on a single person unlike our Empire." Renaud paused for a moment, then added "Though they are a bit odd. Most people would not consider them human, they are called Tuatha. They look similar enough, but ar shorter. Faeries most folk would name them."

Max choked on his gulp of wine, and flashed the Grand Commandeur a sharp look, as though he half believed the man was testing him. He had evidently accepted his fate as Moreau's puppet-Commander the way one swallows a bitter dose; but his position alone was not enough to curb his tongue. What else did he have to lose? "Faeries, sir? Need I prepare myself for magicks and potions and damsels in tall, tall towers?"

"I do believe most of it is exaggeration Commandeur." Renaud grimaced. "Superstitious nonsense. Just consider them tricky, and poision would be one of the tricks I suppose. I've met some of them, and they are not so different as legend has it. But I would keep on your toes. Natives are always crafty, no matter the country."

"Poison. Lovely." Max glanced into his glass and then back to Renaud. "I trust we will be well-armed, given the precious nature of our passengers," he tried, wondering at the make of the boat.

"Of course. Their technology is rather primitive, i doubt they have anything that matches our guns or cannos. And I believe that most of them suffer an allergy to iron, that is a sure way to pinpoint them." Renaud stifled a faint cough. "It sounds unlikely but it's true. That ir probably why they are so backward, I believe most weapons over there are bronze. The poor bastards really do need to open up for trade and new ideas, but it is always the most backwards people that don't realize they need it."

Degare's knuckles tightened. "Fortunately this is a diplomatic overture," he said, uneasily. "With luck we'll have no call to test the inferiority of their arms. The mere sight of a proper Aquitanean warship should be enough to send even the most brazen of natives running with his tail tucked between his legs." His look went wry. "And our expected date of departure?" he trailed away, gesturing to his injured arm.