The War of the Isles

8. Adrian

Everybody has a part of them that they never show to anyone. You could call it the one secret that exists only within yourself. That part of you, if known, might be considered unwelcome.

My name is Adrian. I'm Twenty-Four years old. And I am madly in love with Leslie. There - I have said it, judge me all you want but she is the most beautiful woman I know. And yes, I am fully aware of the fact that she cares little to nothing for me, but feelings are not something you can control. 

It is not like anything around me has been under my control lately. On the contrary, it is I who is being controlled. We have been moving like nomads for good old Lady War. She controls where I go, when I eat, or even when I sleep. In fact, had it not been for her, I would not have succumbed to this torment they call love. 

I was outside a tent which was a makeshift bath. Leslie has been there for almost an hour and I enjoyed watching her. She was a burly and muscular woman, and her beauty was incomparable. Her collarbone was prominent and protruding as she sat in the bathtub with the water almost reaching her shoulders. Of course, I was watching through a tear within the tent and she was unaware of me, but don't blame me. I am only human.

My obsession with Leslie started when I was about twenty years old - four years ago. Lady Hannah was building the Forty Second and she brought in Leslie, then a Master Seargent. I knew little of their acquaintance. The little that she told to us when she introduced herself at first was that she had been married with three children. I remember my heart aching that day when she told us that. And then immediately, she put us through extensive drills. 

I remember she would shout out commands with her sonorous voice. "Run... Ready... Attack!" I did as she told and I did it well. Slowly but surely, she came to trust me enough to become her accomplice within this Forty Second.

As I watched her, the faint sounds of someone talking fell into my ears. 

"... and something needs to be done about the Barnacles on my ship. Can't go sailing like that tomorrow."

Jules Fischer. That asshole. 

I quickly took out my hands from my pants as I heard his footsteps approaching. 

Fischer was a seaman and looked like it. He was tall, and in his thirties, with greasy long black hair and dark brown eyes. When he smiled, one could see how he suffered from scurvy. Yellow teeth sitting between his thin lips, he was well-liked by the Forty Second. He was with a scrawny boy who was holding a small carton with great difficulty.

"Adrian."

"Jules."

"Guard Duty for Seargent Major?"

"Indeed yes."

"Will the Seagent Major be in my ship?"

"I haven't asked. But I will let you know."

"Seargent Major Von Fiedler wishes that she travels in my ship. It makes more sense if two high-ranking officers travel in different vessels."

"I will let her know."

Jules then walked past me, and as he did, his eyes fell onto my pants.

"I suppose you require a change of outfit," he chuckled.

I felt my stomach churn with embarrassment as I looked at my stained pants. Before I could say anything he left hurriedly.

By the time, I peeped through the tear, Leslie was already out of her bath and in her uniform. I had missed it. I quickly took off my coat and wrapped it around my pants before she could come out.