Speaker 1: The scum Kings, a Broadsword Studio production created and written
by Mike Daltrey. Chapter four Stiggin's mistake.
Speaker 2: Green Hell didn't kill us, but it's doing its best
to make us kill each other. Three days since we
crawled back from the jungle, three days of sweating, swatting flies,
and watching the same green wall slide by. The ship
feels even smaller now, or so is Sullen, nursing his
bug bites. Dix has retreated into a silent staring contest
with the mast and stigand Stiggand is pacing like a
bear in a trap. He's leaning against the gunwale, staring
at a young rigger named Lynn. She's up on the
fore deck, coiling a heavy line, her back to him.
She's strong, with shoulders broad from hauling ropes, and hair
cut short. Stiggin wipes his mouth and grunts, Hey, he
calls out. His voice is urgent. It's the kind of
voice he used with men at taverns before he punched
them to start a bar fight just for fun. Len
ignores him. She keeps coiling. Hey, he barks, louder. Girl,
turn around. She pauses, sighs, and looks over her shoulder.
What do you want, I'm busy stigging laughs. It's not
a happy sound. It's a warning that she won't register.
But I've heard many times before. I tense busy with rope.
That's no work for a woman. You need something else.
Then rolls her eyes and turns back to her work.
I need you to leave me the fuck alone. He
pushes off the rail. The deck shudders under his weight.
He walks up behind her, looming over her like a thunderhead.
I'm known for wielding a weapon that can cleave men
in two, but I have another one that will do
the same to women. He grabs his crotch with his hand.
Lynn just shakes her head, and I admire her restraint.
I rather foolishly hope that Stigan gets the message. You've
been on a boat with women for too long. How
about I show you what a real man can do
and bend you over that rail. Lynn turns around sneers.
She doesn't look scared, she looks annoyed. A real man you,
I'd get a better fuck riding a blay pen. She laughs,
pointing at the various wooden bars with rope wrapped around them.
Vain and Stiggin's forehead bulges. His hand shoots out, grabbing
her shirt.
Speaker 1: Rip.
Speaker 2: The sound is loud in the humid air. He tears
the fabric down, exposing her breasts. Lyn's eyes go wide
with shocking fury. She tries to cover herself with one arm,
her other hand diving for the knife at her belt.
You filthy animal, she screams. She slashes at him. It's
a fast, practiced strike. Stigan doesn't even flinch. He slaps
her hand away with a backhand that looks casual but
carries the force of a falling tree. The knife skitters
across the deck. He grabs her by the throat, lifting
her off her feet. She scratches at his arm, her
legs kicking. Laugh now, he roars, spit flying into her face.
You want to fuck a belay pin? I'll help you.
He moves toward a bare pin, and I rush over
stop him from impaling her on it. Shadow moves from
the rigging faster than me. It's a wiry woman whose
name I don't know. She drops down behind him. Her
blade flashes chick. She slices Stiggin's arm deep into the tricep.
Stigan bellows in pain. He drops Lynn, who scrambles back, gasping.
He spins around, blood streaming down his arm. Eyes wild,
His eyes are wild, but there is a primal joy
in his face. He loves nothing as much as a
fight that ends with his opponent broken and dead. He
moves forward. Hold Bryn's voice cracks like a whip. She's
at the helm, a sword in her hand, but Stigan
doesn't care about swords right now, he's in the red.
He takes another step toward the woman. Suddenly the whole
crew is there, twelve women with knives, marlin spikes, and
hatred in their eyes. Stigand isn't foolish and stands still,
surveying his odds of his bare hands against twelve armed women.
Throw him over. Brynn shouts now into the river. Two
of the strongest sailors move forward with pikes. Stiggand laughs.
I don't think he expects to live, but he'll probably
kill half of them in the process of his dying.
And that's a good end if you're Stiggind. I look
at Orso. He's standing by the mast watching. He looks calm,
but I can see the calculation running behind his eyes.
He can't swim dre or So whispers, barely moving his lips.
By the time they get him over the rail, he'll
take four or five of them with him, maybe Brynn too.
He steps forward, raising his hands. Wait, or So shouts,
His voice cuts through the noise.
Speaker 1: Wait.
Speaker 2: Brin holds up a hand. He assaulted my crew. He
should be happy we don't kill him. Or So walks
in between ors and the women look at him. He
gestures to Stiggand, who is panting, blood dripping from his fingers,
looking for a throat to rip out. He's upper circer.
You try to put him in the water. He will
tear this ship apart. He will snap masts and necks
before he goes down. Do you want to lose half
your crew to kill one drunk? Brinn hesitates. Her eyes
flicker to the scarred wood of the deck, then to
her crew, who look resolute but wary. They know Stiggins's strength.
He attacked one of mine, she says, her voice hard.
There is a price, there is, or So agrees, but
let it be a price that keeps the ship floating.
And what is that price? At this or So founders
he can't tell Stiggins to pay any price. And he
knows it. But I can step off the rail. I
don't draw my weapon. I just walk towards stigand stigand
I say. My voice is low, calm, the voice of
the man who led him into the abbey. He's breathing heavy,
staring at the woman who sliced his arm. She drew blood.
Dra I see it, I say, I stop two feet
from him. I'm the only thing between him and the pikes.
And you tore her shirt. This isn't the gutters or
some whorehouse. You shamed us sticking blinks, she laughed. It
matters not stand down. I command, I don't ask, I
don't plead.
Speaker 1: I order.
Speaker 2: Looks at me. The red Haze fights with the habit
of obedience. We've been through a lot together, and he
knows I'm not one to retreat unless I have a
good reason. She laughed. He mutters again, but his shoulders slump.
I turned to Brynn. No water today, Captain. We keep
our muscle. You keep your crew alive. Brand lowers her sword,
but her eyes are cold flint. He stays in the hole,
bound until I say otherwise. And I say, I turned
back to stiggand get below. Let Selaine sew that up.
Then sit in the dark and hold your rage for
a concord guard or a hound assassin on the coast.
Stigg Int glares at the crew one last time, spits
on the deck, and turns. He lumbers toward the hatch,
holding his bleeding arm. Lynn is shivering, holding her torn
shirt together with one hand while her other rubs her neck.
Her eyes are filled with tears and hate. I look
at Bryn. We're even no, she says, sheathing her sword,
not even close. She turns back to the tiller. I
look at orso. He gives a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Be survived, and for a second, just a second, I
gave an order and the world listened. You will w