Introducin'

Theodoric Brandywine

Theodoric “Dirk” Brandywine, youngest son of Lord Edward Bradywine and Lady Alyce Ayer was destined for fame from an early age; some say he achieved infamy instead.
A sickly child, often with fever or a croup, Dirk spent his time in the Library Solarium reading everything he could. This created his unusually broad, and highly colored world view.
At the age of eight Dirk was offered vocal lessons “to improve his wind”. In two short years his nightingale-esque soprano was the talk of London. Had he continued, Dirk might simply have become a star of London Opera, but this was not to be. At the age of ten, something happened that forever changed the timid young scholar.
While in London, Dirk witnessed an unfamiliar stage. When Dirk inquired the purpose, his Father explained that young men would “Play his Prize” to be recognized as a Master of Fence. It was later that day, Dirk was awed by the art and form of professional duelists.
His heart was forever lost to the Blade. The duelist who so capably defeated every comer fought with Italian Rapier, unless met with an opponent with two weapons. Then, he would draw a slim poniard. Two tiny slivers of steel, drew the line between victory and defeat.
The man, the Master, was none other than Vincentio Saviolo. Master Saviolo stayed in London a year, while on business. For that year, every day, for hours on end, young Dirk fenced with the talented Saviolo. Private lessons generously paid for by Lord Brandywine, seeing some hope for his son if sent to Italy, as a student of the Great Agrippa.
At the still tender age of fourteen, a presentation by legendary Jerónimo Sánchez de Carranza and young student, Don Luis Pacheco de Narváez, Dirk was taken by yet another beauty; the style of la Verdadera Destreza. It was due to Agrippa’s advancing years that Dirk was given a Letter of Introduction from his Master.
Soon Dirk was away to Madrid, attending University and fencing. He became fast friends with Narvaez, alas, friendship with Narvaez was doomed, fencers have great egos, and Narvaez was no exception. Within a year, Theodoric was beyond the skill of Narvaez, and set to be named heir to Carranza, by a test of skill. For an hour, they danced within the Circle, young Dirk in obvious control of the match, fought Narvaez to a stand-still, yet, never touched him. Time after time he pulled his strike. It was Narvaez who broke, in a fit of classic Spanish Passion. Narvaez committed the great sin of the Circle. He charged. his blow, and his body, deflected, Narvaez literally flew from the Circle.
Narvaez, in his manuels Dirk’s victory and Narvaez’s lesson, passed on to his students, “Por la linea del diametro no se puede caminar sin peligro.” or “Along the line of the diameter one can not walk without peril.”
As Brandywine helped him to his feet, he smiled, and announced “Within the week, I tell you true, It will be known that Don Luis Pacheco de Narváez, is the Finest Swordsman in Spain!”
Two days later, Dirk left for England and Oxford. He graduated with Honours, and as he School’s Undefeated Fencing Champion. Following graduation, and the proper path of all noble young men, Dirk enlisted in Her Majesty’s Navy.

That is where the trouble started.

****

A Royal Commission was often the best a younger son could hope for, that, or Holy Orders and early on Dirk knew he was not cut for the Cloth. Due to his education in Spain and his Father’s position in The Company, he was given a lieutenant’s rank and served four years in Her Majesty’s Navy. Never in his nature to suffer fools gladly, the military tried Dirk’s patience in spades.
He was careful with his finances and sent most to his father, Lord Brandywine, a primary investor in the British East India Company. Dirk retired from active service with a Captaincy - for valour under enemy fire. Earning a Baronetcy for his father, as he still lived, and enough money to rest comfortably upon, Dirk’s story could have ended quietly, except for a trip to India.
Three things changed Dirk’s path yet again; an amorous Duchess, a jealous Duke, and an unfortunate Duel.

*****

“Lord love a DUCK! That’s Trixie Whitehouse, we were, ah, good friends back home…good friends indeed!”
“THAT, M’Lord, is Patricia Duchess of Araba, You would do well to remember her new Station.” Said the footman grabbing his bags off the carriage.
“Duchess…of…OH this is too much…” and he boldly strode forward to the woman on the manicured croquet field
“M’lady Duchess it HAS been too long…”
The beautiful woman with the auburn curls turned to the voice behind her with a frown for the uninvited interruption of her game and and once grinned in a most unladylike fashion “Dirk!” and practically threw herself into the your man’s arms hugged him fiercely then took his face in both hands before remembering herself, and moving her hands to his shoulders, as if to dust them off… “Theodoric, it is wonderful to see you again. You MUST come visit my HUSBAND” she stressed the word ”the Duke and I, we are having a party this evening.”
“I would be delighted M’Lady Araba! For, as always, I am at your service!” As he bowed to kiss her lightly on her gloved hand he whispered for her ears only “or simply service you, lovely Trixie…”
She was nearly the red of her tresses when he stood up ” I bid you allow me to take my leave, so that I may refresh myself.” She simply nodded curtly, as Lord Brandywine turned to take his leave…this would be quite a party.
THREE MONTHS LATER….

I sat in that wretched Mangalore Tavern drinking watered beer and eating the mouth searing curries of this particular little part of paradise for two weeks, TWO WEEKS! On the off chance that my gold had bought reasonable intelligence…I had heard that Captain Maximilian De Xavier was spotted in these waters and if, IF I could get him a message I might find a way out of the noose around my neck…
It had taken me 3 months of overland travel from Calcutta to reach Mangalore, a more wretched hive of scum and villainy you will never find…I love it here... and I was hoping to to simply disappear and recreate myself, back home in England I still had money, and a certain skill with a blade, I could open a Salon…perhaps.
Then my luck changed, I heard the Despair was in Indian waters, and would sometimes put into Mangalore bay for supplies and the all too common repairs required by a pirate, pardon, Privateer, vessel.
That is correct, my old friend from my days at the Universidad de Madrid , the youngest grand nephew of the King Phillippe, Himself had stolen a Spanish Galleon and gone rogue… Only Max would dare.
If I could get on that ship I was as good as home…The good Captain might, might, take me aboard for old time sake, but I had a guarantee, I had ships routes from every Dutch and Portuguese ship that had ever sailed to India…these charts worth more than gold to a ship that could USE then, and I had it under excellent authority that Max had gathered himself a fine little fleet of formerly Royal ships from at least three nations…he’d use them well, and they would never be missed…Did I mention that I had studied cartography? They were excellent copies if I do say so myself, simple maps unless you ALSO had the vellum overlays.

Then I heard the news of Kjoura…