The following day the ship had dropped anchor in a human town by the coast. It was one of the few ports that allowed pirates to stay, shop and eat their fill. Port Town consisted mainly of fishermen and merchants with the occasional delivery ship, though it offered very little else aside from its main exports. The houses and buildings were often times very small and worn-down, but each seemed to be quite homely in their own respects.
“Dark elf!” The quartermaster shouted from the deck. Within moments Heinrichter came rushing from within the forecastle to heed the call of his superior.
“Aye sir!” He said saluting him.
The quartermaster gave him an uneasy glare and seemingly set aside his gripes shortly after. “I have a task for you.” He gestured to the market in the town with his thumb. “Go to the market and get supplies for the trip. You know what I expect of you. Should you try to run, you’ll be lucky to keep your head attached to your body.” He reached into his pocket and removed a small bag of coins, then threw them to the swabbie.
“A-aye sir...” He muttered nervously. By this point in time Heinrichter had become rather familiar with the likelihood of one of the pirates pulling a weapon on him, and he had no doubts in his mind that they would be willing to use them on him. After receiving his orders he turned away and prepared to leave until the voice of the boatswain rang in his ears.
“Hold up there dark elf. I have a task for you to do too.” He walked over and handed Heinrichter a small piece of paper with a list of materials for repairs. Shortly after he handed him a second bag with coins in it and patted him roughly on the shoulder. “That’s a good lad.” Without another word or even an opportunity to respond he walked away.
The swabbie frowned. There was no way he could bring enough food for an entire crew and supplies for the ship in a single trip. He had no desire to fulfill their tasks but knowing it was that or his life, he was not willing to make such a sacrifice for the sake of his lack of motivation. While crossing the gangway he heard a third person calling out to him and before turning around he smiled wryly and took a deep breath.
“Dark elf, do me a favour will ya’?” One of the riggers called to him. “While yer’ in town ya’ think ya’ can pick us up some rope? Thanks mate.” He threw the swabbie a third bag of coins and disappeared on the deck.
Heinrichter felt that they were doing this to spite him. The fact that they all decided to send him to do errands at once seemed to be abuse more so than it was his job. His small frame did not promise much success in managing to bring back all of the requested items in short time frame, but he preferred trial and error over being killed on the spot. He made haste to leave the ship’s vicinity before his other superiors decided to tack on more requests for him to do.
He solemnly walked down the shore towards the market, taking in a deep breath of fresh air and sighing in relief. A moment of respite away from the pirates of the Shrieking Banshee and their multitude of menial tasks was something he believed would be far and few between, so one sooner than he expected was glorious. He thanked the gods that the storm had occurred so they could stop in Port Town. His brief moments of joy quickly came to an end upon discovering a human washed up upon the shore. He froze in place but his thoughts were in a jumble. He carefully examined the scenario from a safe distance, concluding that whoever the victim was had been caught in the storm and shipwrecked in the process, judging by the remains of the ruined ship. Heinrichter felt a strong urge to help the stranger, but feared for his life because of the possibility that they were a pirate who would want his head as well.
He sighed. If the pirate did take him as ransom, he felt a slight sense of security in knowing that the crew of the Shrieking Banshee would not so easily let their ‘merchandise’ be taken from them. The reliable feeling he had quickly disappeared as he recalled being considered property of pirates. Being labeled as ‘dark elf’ suddenly stopped sounding as insulting as it once did. Though unsure of his decision, he decided he would help out the stranger. If Heinrichter had learned anything from his parent’s teachings, it was to always help someone in need. Though more times than not, they would refuse his help, but an unconscious man had no response. He attempted to lift the body onto his shoulders and failed. It was a generous idea, but one he would certainly not be able to fulfill. The swabbie lifted the stranger by the arms and dragged him along the shore towards the ship he recently parted with.
Judging by the way the man was dressed, Heinrichter had a sneaking suspicion that he was a pirate. His outfit seemed to be somewhat more refined, and certainly cleaner in comparison to what the swabbie now familiarized himself with. He dropped the stranger and gently stroked his silver ponytail uneasily. This was not a life he wished to adapt to, and should he do so, he questioned whether or not he could return to the life that he knew. The tales that humans spun about adventures in other worlds were certainly reminiscent of his situation, but he knew he was not the hero of a storybook and in that regard he was in great danger. He had a world of enemies and very few allies in an unfamiliar realm. He wrapped his arms around the stranger’s and began to drag him towards the ship again.
As he walked he stole a glance down at his unconscious companion and paused again. On the nape of his neck there was an unusual symbol; a circle emblazoned with unfamiliar markings and a pentagram in the center. A sense of uneasiness spread throughout him. Was this stranger some kind of shipwrecked cultist? There was a chance that he was some kind of outlaw or experiment that went wrong and escaped. Heinrichter smiled wryly as he chuckled dryly. His fears and memories of ridiculous movies he recently watched seemed to be blending together into a senseless mush. He set aside his baseless worries and continued on towards his new home.
Bruce slowly opened his eyes and carefully examined his surroundings. He found himself in the crew’s quarters of a ship that was certainly not the Fenris. If he had found himself in another pirate’s crew, his plans may have had to take a backseat. He walked through the lower deck and emerged at the upper deck after a brief period of wandering around to discover a majority of the crew. Among their ranks, he discovered an oddly dressed dark elf seemingly being scolded by his superiors. The pirate eyed the two with a questioning gaze while pondering what a dark elf would be doing on the mainland. He should not have been a slave because the dark elves were not to leave their lands under any circumstances. Was he a refugee? This matter interested Bruce greatly. The dark elves that strayed from their lands were criminals, and criminals meant a bounty. If he could slip away with the elf in tow he would certainly obtain a hefty sum for the boy’s head. Before he could create a plan, he had to find out exactly what he had gotten himself into after his last blunder.
He approached the boy and his superior and greeted them. “Good day gentlemen. Pardon my intrusion, but I seem to have found myself on your fine vessel without memory of how I wound up here. Would you be so kind as to refresh my memory?” Bruce requested.
The dark elf uneasily glanced at his superior who seemingly sized up Bruce for a couple of moments and crossed his arms. “Our swabbie found you washed up on the shore with the ruins of your vessel. Dragged your sorry carcass onto the ship to find you some medical attention. Consider yourself lucky we have a skilled surgeon. What do they call you?” The quartermaster replied. Quick and very to the point; he certainly meant business and did not have the patience for any games.
Bruce felt quite sure that he had no need for a surgeon; all of his limbs seemed to be attached without any problems, and he felt rather sure the sea would not tear them off. “Ah forgive my rudeness. My name is Bruce Milliner, a sailor who seems to have found himself in this town.”
“I see.” The quartermaster nodded. “You can call me Warner, quartermaster of this vessel the Shrieking Banshee.” He rubbed his chestnut beard gently. “If an able sailor such as yourself lost his vessel he can’t sail the seas. In that case, why don’t you join our crew? We’ll pay you better than whatever they can offer you here and we can take you to wherever it is that your little treasure map leads to.”
Bruce felt a hint of annoyance at the arrogance of the quartermaster, but even more upon hearing that they had looted his body for his map. Though he considered protesting their actions, he saw an opportunity in Warner’s suggestion. A brilliant plan was brewing within his head and the generosity of the crew of the Shrieking Banshee would be his ticket to seeing it through. “That sounds like a very good idea. I think I will take you up on that offer.”
Warned grinned. “You made the right choice.”
“I am inclined to concur.” Bruce smiled devilishly. “So this is the swabbie that had found me shipwrecked, correct?” The quartermaster nodded and the boy eyed him cautiously. “Now that I am a part of this ship, I assume that offers me some authority over my subordinates?”
The quartermaster began to glare at him suspiciously. “That’s right.”
“Then it should not be a problem if I borrow him for a while.”
Warner scoffed. “So long as he finishes his duties before sundown I don’t care what you do. Just don’t think of leaving this town with him or you’ll be leaving for the other world.”
“How quaint.” Bruce remarked with a charming grin. “Come along lad. There is much to be done.”
The two walked along the shore towards the town nearby. This was certainly not Bruce’s first time in Port Town, and he felt sure that it would not be the last. A pirate’s life often began and ended here, and there was not much room for visits in-between, nor was there a need. Though Port Town was on the continent in which all races were united under one ruler, this town among others still housed more humans than other races. It was one of the only lands in the realm in which their kind could exist; their lack of gills and the ability of flight, let alone a resistance to severe heat really narrowed their options down. Despite the eons of peace, not all races were quite willing to set aside their differences and live in harmony with the others, humans especially. Those that wished to often had their homes built on the mainland. Reasons such as that were things that Bruce could easily understand. The enigma walking next to him was something he could not even begin to fathom.
“Tell me lad, what brings you so far away from the dark elves’ homeland to one of the most dangerous places in all the realm for your kind?” Bruce asked curiously. He occasionally caught the boy stealing glimpses at him and returning them to his own shoes to avoid being caught, but little had he known it had already happened more than once.
The boy seemed to be looking at the pirate through the corner of his eye as he muttered, “I didn’t come from there. I’m not even from this realm.” He turned his focus back to his shoes. “And my name’s not lad, its Heinrichter.” He muttered in english.
Bruce stopped walking and gazed at the young dark elf with a look of bewilderment. “I am not sure if I should be more surprised that your name is the same as the chancellor’s, or about the fact that you speak english fluently.” The humans from the Earth Realm supposedly had a myriad of languages for their multiple ethnicities, but in Azenham they all spoke the common language. Regardless of race, everyone was able to understand each other because of it. Finding someone who could speak one of the Earth Realm’s languages, let alone a dark elf, was a very uncommon and interesting discovery.
“I dunno who the chancellor is, but I doubt we’re related in any way. It’s probably purely by chance that our names are similar, but just in case if you know anything about him I’d like to be informed. A-anyway...” He paused and knit his eyebrows. “Is it that surprising that I can speak english? In the country I came from the humans spoke that and French. Though all of the races of humans were assembled there so it was a mixed bag really...the official languages was the first two. You’re a human too. Don’t your people speak the same languages here?”
The boy had a more talkative side than Bruce first imagined, but he seemed to have a very snarky attitude to accompany it. A dark elf from the Earth Realm would certainly make for a very useful lackey, among other things. If Bruce could earn his trust he could certainly put the boy to good use. “They do not.” He replied. “The languages that they developed in that world were not passed down in our own. Pray tell, what force brought you from one realm to the other?”
Heinrichter smiled wryly. “It was this weird little girl dressed up like someone I had seen from a game. Then she started talking about something and the next thing I knew I was being sucked into a black hole that brought me here. Well it technically threw me into the sea.” He paused. “You’ve got a really odd dialect for someone who speaks the common language, though I’m no professional myself.”
“I never found it all that strange.” Heinrichter found his dialect to be a tad more dignified than the rest, though he did not want to anger the swabbie by throwing him in with the common riffraff and their ilk. “But I am quite curious, you have been rather honest with your history to someone you have met for the first time. Do you have no secrecy?”
The boy averted his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t have any secrecy. How I got here doesn’t matter much because regardless of it, I’m still a dark elf and nothing more than a walking ransom.” He furrowed his brows. “It doesn’t matter who my enemies are though...I’ll fight anyone who challenges me.”
Bruce felt slightly impressed by his resolution. The Earth Realm was supposedly a peaceful place, quite the opposite of Azenham. To think that a boy from there would have the will to fight with those much more experienced than he was proved that he was either bold or foolish. “Why do you fight? Did you have enemies in your world and make more here?”
“I fight because I have something worth fighting for! I won’t let them take everything away from me because of my stupid lineage! I’m no less a person than they are, and I’ll do everything it takes to make a change...with whatever little power I have...I’ll find a way.” The look on his face contradicted his words through a single sad expression, but his initial conviction was promising.
The more he heard the more interested in the boy bruce became. He felt certain that he would be the key to fulfilling Bruce’s plans, and connecting the words of the strange girl he had met before falling into the sea. The opportunities for greatness were arising like a wave and promising him a chance at granting his wishes if he could put the pieces of the puzzle together. “If you wish to do so, then stand by me and I will guide you through your journey.”
The two arrived in town in good time, and the young dark elf curiously examined the buildings that surrounded them. He occasionally shifted his gaze from a small list to the surrounding area and Bruce deducted that he was sent on an errand, something he knew all too well.
“Guess I can start with getting rations.” Heinrichter said and looked at Bruce from the corner of his eye. “If you’ve got nothing better to do you can help me bring this junk back to the ship. If you do don’t tell the big wigs I asked or they’ll cut me down.”
Bruce chuckled dryly. He began to wonder whether or not the boy was just a slave or a swabbie. For the sake of his plans he decided he would help the boy with the errand. With the proper training and a decent mentor, he considered the possibility that he may have a someday-to-be necromancer under his wing, and a very powerful companion. “My lips are sealed.”
Bruce walked with the hooded Heinrichter to a fish vendor and looked through his wares until a voice called out to him and drew his attention to a stout man with short brown hair approaching the two. He stopped in front of Bruce for a moment to catch his breath and wipe the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. The way he was dressed either meant that he was a wealthy man or he was a noble; he wore an auburn tuxedo likely tailored specifically for his size with black shoes.
“Pardon my rudeness, but I have not seen a pair like you around here before.” He tipped his matching fedora to the two. “My name is Oliver Ingle, mayor of Port Town.”
“Bruce Milliner, sailor extraordinaire.” Bruce replied while offering the mayor a handshake.
The two shook hands and the mayor shifted his gaze to Heinrichter uneasily. The boy nearly jumped after feeling the mayor’s gaze on his back but he remained focus on his task at hand. “Your companion is awfully quiet.”
“Ah! Yes yes he is. This is Hei-nz. He is the soft-spoken type. Do not mind it. Now then, what could we do for you Mr. Ingle?”
“Ah yes...we’ve seemed to encounter a bit of a problem. There has been a man living in the sewers of Port Town for some time now claiming that he has dominion over the rats that inhabited the area. We’ve ignored his presence because he had done no harm to anyone and had no impact on the city by existing within the sewers until recently. The rats have grown massive and vicious and seemingly listen to his commands. The amount of rats have rapidly multiplied also since the arrival of ship with a flag featuring a jolly roger appeared. If my memory serves me, I believe that it had a wolf in place of a skull on it.”
“That is quite a predicament.” Bruce replied. He recognized the ship and felt certain that it was the Fenris. They likely had stopped in Port Town and dumped the cargo while also searching for Bruce. He was lucky to have been caught in the storm and delayed a few days past their visit.
The mayor began to sweat profusely. “I had recently sent a young Naga girl down there to eliminate the problem but she is yet to return, so I wish for you to go, find her if possible and cull the infestation.”
“Allow me to confirm your request; you wish for us to rescue the girl, reduce the amount of rats, and what of their leader? What can you tell us about him?”
“He is a deranged man who, the last time I saw him, had grown out his unkempt hair to an unusual length and wore grey rags. Be wary of his ‘claws’ as they will pierce your skin should he reach you. He also calls himself ‘Ratman’.” Heinrichter snickered and the two turned their gaze to him, causing him to fall silent and continue sifting through the fish. “Eliminate him also if possible. We cannot afford another rodent outbreak or we’ll all be diseased. Complete this and you will be rewarded.”
“Consider it done.” The mayor said his goodbyes and parted ways with the two. “Shall we be on our way Heinz?”
“Seriously Bruce? Heinz? Do I look like a bottle of ketchup to you?” The pirate gave him a puzzled glance and Heinrichter sighed. “Why do you have to keep my name a secret too? Is this chancellor guy that important?” He began to speak in English.
“He is to be coronated as the next king within the next fortnight.” Bruce responded.
The boy looked shocked. “I...I made some poor life choices...”
Shortly after Bruce lifted a manhole in the town’s plaza and shifted it aside, climbing down a ladder within it afterwards.
“It is now or never Heinrichter.” He said to the dark elf looking down upon him reluctantly.
“It reeks down there!” Bruce would have shrugged but he had no intention of falling into sewage.
“I am not fond of the smell myself, but we have accepted this task so it is our duty to see it through to the end.” Though the boy was still against it, it seemed that Bruce’s words got through to him and convinced him to follow through.
The sewers were very dark, damp and offered a scent that was rather unpleasant to the nose. The walls were grimy and the sewage that flowed down a small duct was oddly green; a steady flow made its way towards grates and down other passages to places neither of the two wished to become familiar with. As they walked they caught glimpses of what could have been possible skirmishes between the Naga girl and the massive rats the mayor spoke of. Occasionally passing by rat corpses and blood stains, and even patches of ice.
“I think I’m gonna be sick...” Heinrichter muttered under his breath. “The smell of death and decay mixed with sewage are things that were never meant to be combined.” He pinched his nose and sighed as he began to speak in a nasally voice. “What’s with these frozen patches though? Unless my eyes are deceiving me it certainly isn’t winter in this realm.”
“That Naga may be a mage. It is uncommon for them to use ice as elementalists, but as a magister it is possible.”
Heinrichter snorted. “Bruce, I think you need to take your nose out of the novels. Mages and whatnot don’t exist. They can’t. It defies all logic.”
The pirate looked at the boy with pity. “To come to a world built around magic and deny its existence is beyond belief.”
“The fact that you believe that it’s real is beyond me.” The boy eyed a nearby corridor cautiously. “Though I still have a lot to learn about the Old World.” He paused. “I’ll reserve my judgements for now, and I’ll believe it when I see it. As of now I’m still yet to see any magic, though I can’t say I would have on a pirate shi-whoa!”
Bruce suddenly pulled Heinrichter back by his hood and stepped in front of him drawing his pistol and firing into the darkness. A loud screech could be heard and quickly died down shortly after.
“What in the gods’ name was that?” The dark elf asked.
“One of those rats the mayor spoke of. That girl must have missed it.” Bruce replied holstering his gun.
The two walked on, following the trail of corpses and bloody footsteps on the concrete walkway towards what seemed to be the lair of Ratman. As they passed by Bruce’s mark Heinrichter eyed it suspiciously in case it was not dead, but Bruce had hit it right between the eyes and the two felt certain not even a massive rat could survive such an accurate shot.
“Never have I seen a rat so large in my life. I never want to see another again.” Heinrichter groaned. “I’ve heard that they can grow huge but this thing could eat a small dog. WHOLE.” He suddenly began to get annoyed.
“Consider yourself lucky these rodents aren’t gnawing at your legs. If you were to survive you would certainly have contracted their disease. I am positive this is not Ratman’s doing. These rats must have been experimented upon. Whether it was only a matter of time or something they had been exposed to within the sewers, better that we cull their numbers then let this epidemic spread.”
After taking various turns and following the tracks to what seemed to be a dead end, the two began to discover unusual markings upon some of the walls. Some seemed to be symbols and characters, the ones shaped like rats standing out more than the others. Bruce suggested that it was possible that it was a language that Ratman had created and used to somehow communicate with his rodent companions. As the two turned another corner they found what once was Ratman’s lair. A series of rags were spread around, likely as bedding and the bloody carcass of a rat that shamed the others in size had lay on the ground nearby the young Naga girl. She held Ratman by his long unkempt brown hair and looked into his eyes that did not stare back. His bones like his companion’s were crushed by the massive bloody mallet she wielded, and her demeanor did not seem to be a friendly one.
“Who goes there? State your name and purpose, or die where you stand!” She commanded them.
“My name is Bruce Milliner.” Bruce spoke first, quickly and clearly. “My companion Heinz and I were sent here on a mission to find you and bring back solve the rat issue.”
She dropped Ratman’s corpse and turned towards the two. The entirety of her face was covered by a mask with a single blood red tear running down from the left eye. Cautious crimson eyes glared at the two through it, and black shoulder-length hair rested behind it. She crossed her arms over her leather jerkinand placed her weapon by her side as she examined the two carefully. After seeing her icy hammer, Bruce felt sure that she was a type of mage, but found himself at a loss as to what kind of mage would willingly fight with their greatest weakness.
“I see.” She replied. “The population of the rats has been culled already, and as you can see Ratman and his companion Bugsy have been eliminated also.” She raised a single turquoise webbed finger. “There was only one creature that escaped my weapon, and it will not live to see another day now that my business here is complete.”
“We recently came across it and it has been deftly handled. If that is all of them, then the task is complete. You have done an excellent job of handling the others.” Bruce answered.
She paused. “Hmph.” She hauled her weapon over her shoulder and walked past the two. “Our conversation ends here. I seek only the strongest, and you two are of no concern of mine. If you know of anyone worthy of a duel tell them to seek me out, or become men of high caliber and return to me. Should you do so, bring a prize worth fighting for. If this is not to your wishes, we will not likely meet again.”
“Wait, your name!” Heinrichter called out to her.
“I am known as Smith. It will do you no good to remember it.” She replied and left without another word.
Bruce knit his eyebrows. The Naga’s civilization was built in the deepest depths of the sea, and though they could survive on land without any potential issues, very rarely did they choose to do so. Coming to such a remote town on the mainland was completely unusual for their kind. If Smith was searching for strong opponents, he could see why she might wander into Port Town, but there were other incredible warriors around the world. Setting the matter aside, he approached Ratman’s corpse and shook his head at the spectacle she had made of him. His body bent in ways that Bruce did not even think possible, and judging from the other limbs that were out of shape, she had hit him more than once with her mallet. He drew his cutlass and lopped off one of Ratman’s hands and a strand of hair just to be safe, then walked over to his companion who gazed at the dead rat with a mixture of pity and disgust.
He placed the hand on Heinrichter’s shoulder and the boy turned to him, catching a glimpse of Bruce holding the hand and jumping aside while shouting, “Gods! What did you-” He retched and began to throw up into the duct. “Not cool. You do not go around touching people with dismembered limbs!” He wiped the remains of his vomit from his mouth and groaned.
Bruce chuckled and shook his head. “You have to develop an iron stomach to be a pirate lad. This world is much more violent than what you may be familiar with. It is killed or be killed. Knowing your allies and enemies is key, and suspecting everyone is even more so. At any time those you trust could slip poison into your ale or silence you in your sleep.”
Heinrichter frowned and furrowed his eyebrows. “I barely trust people as it is. If I need to suspect them all of plotting to murder me too, how am I supposed to make allies? Let alone trust them?”
“Take everything with a grain of salt Heinrichter. There is much you can learn from me. I will not lead you astray.” Bruce told him.
“Never put a dismembered hand on my shoulder again and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
After tracing their steps back the way they came, the two emerged from the sewers where they had started, speaking in english.
“You must understand that in Azenham or as you know it, the ‘Old World’ strength is a key factor in any situation. One must be able to defend himself, as most scenarios will devolve to violence with little room for diplomacy. In your case, it will be even more frequent. For the sake of obtaining the bounty, they will do whatever it takes to get you dead or alive.” Bruce explained, to which Heinrichter frowned. “Once the coronation is over, I am sure it will not matter as much whether your name and the chancellor’s are similar, but your outer appearance must be kept secret from anyone and everyone. Next to those you know you can trust, like me.” He smiled and Heinrichter made a tiny grin in turn, both out of humour and good will.
“Just...don’t slip poison into my tea or something. If you’re gonna put me out of my misery, I want you to do it properly.” Heinrichter requested.
“Rest assured, I will take your will to my grave.”
“I-I don’t know what to think of that statement.” He suddenly pointed in a direction. “Hey, I can see that weird mayor over there.”
Just as he said, the mayor was conversing with a group of sailors who had seemingly just brought in their haul. Two of them held onto a net filled to the brim with fish while he conversed with a third. As the pair approached the group turned to them, some remarking on the putrid smell while others covered their noses.
“Ah it’s you again. I assume it is safe to deduce by that awful scent you carry on you, that you have crossed swords with Ratman?” Mayor Ingle asked.
“Not quite.” Bruce replied. “We had met with the young Naga girl you spoke of, and she had already defeated him, along with a great portion of his minions. I take it that she is yet to come see you?”
He nodded. “I saw her on her way out of the city. Though I called her she did not seem interested in claiming the reward so you and your companion...Heinz I believe? You may split it among yourselves. Ratman is dead, correct?” Bruce revealed the decapitated hand and the mayor cringed. The sailors averted their eyes and Heinrichter swallowed his bile. “Put it away, I believe that’s sufficient proof!” He removed a small bag of coins from his pocket and handed it to Bruce. “Thank you for your efforts. Now if you do not mind I must be on my way. There are other problems that must be addressed.” The mayor scuttled off and the sailors went about their business also.
He tossed the bag up into the air and caught it with a grin. “Excellent. Lady luck shall be on my side tonight, if this is a sign. Tonight I will obtain an even greater prize.”
“What prize would that be?” The young dark elf asked him with a curious look.
“You will find out in good time lad.” Bruce smiled devilishly.
Bruce lowered a large barrel filled with fruits onto the ship’s deck and wiped the sweat from his brow. Heinrichter leaned on the barrel and let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank goodness that’s finally taken care of.” Heinrichter said, followed by a deep breath. He like his companion, was sweating profusely.
“I have a favour to ask of you now, lad.” Bruce said. The boy’s pointed ears seemingly perked as he shifted his gaze to the pirate. “Would you introduce me to the captain of this vessel?”
“Ah...the captain? I’m surprised he hasn’t gone to introduce himself to you yet. He sure gave me a warm welcome with his cutlass to my throat and the quartermaster’s flintlock pointed at my skull.” Heinrichter muttered in english.
“Warm indeed.” Bruce agreed. The dark elf muttered about how he was over the matter already and lead Bruce to the captain’s quarters below deck.
“Captain? Do you have a minute?” He asked gently rapping on the door.
“I thought I told you not to bother me when I’m not on deck Heinrichter.” A gruff, manly voice replied from the other side of the door.
“W-well you did...it’s not that I didn’t understand what your point was, Bruce just wanted a formal introduction.” He stammered rubbing the back of his neck. As the door opened the boy took a startled step back and locked eyes with the captain who shifted his gaze to his new recruit.
“You must be that new guy Bruce.” He held out a hand. “Reeder. Captain of the Shrieking Banshee. It’s a pleasure.” Bruce placed his hand in the captain’s and shook it with conviction, realizing upon it that the captain had a massive pair of hands to compliment his immense size. His hands, like his face had a multitude of scars upon them. He was a man who had certainly seen his fair share of battles, and his size was proof of his strength. The two could only see a small portion of them beneath the fringes of his unkempt black hair. “Did you only come to introduce yourself? Or do you have some other motive in interrupting me?”
“I did indeed come to introduce myself, but I also came with a hidden motive.” Bruce replied nonchalantly to which Reeder only scoffed. He seemed more impressed than annoyed by the recruit’s honesty, while his young companion looked positively baffled by his statement.
“Well? You’ve got my attention, so what’s this ulterior motive of yours?” The captain crossed his arms impatiently.
“I would like to duel you for your position as captain of this vessel.”
“What?!” Heinrichter cried out while gazing at Bruce incredulously.
The captain chuckled. “You? Are you sure you want this?”
“Positively.”
“Bruce, you’re a freakin’ nutcase. Look at this guy! He could rub you out of existence with his abs if he damn well wanted to! He could crush you into a fine paste with his forearms!” The dark elf seemed annoyed at first, but he calmed down and frowned. “You just do whatever you want. I can’t be bothered. You’ll get no pity from me when he makes swiss cheese out of you.”
“Fear not, for I am well trained in swordplay.” The boy rubbed his neck at the comment.
“So what will I gain by dueling you Recruit?”
“Firstly,” Bruce reached into his coat pocket and removed a small bag of coins. “you will receive everything I have within this bag, which is quite a fair sum of cales. You will also be given complete possession of the map I had washed on shore with.” The captain seemed interested, but not sold on the offer. “Secondly, I will give you my most prized possession, my blunderbuss Nidhogg. This is no ordinary weapon, mind you. This is actually one of the realm’s relics.” Reeder raised an eyebrow to the mentioning of the relic. “Lastly, should you choose not to end my life, I will swear loyalty to you and you alone, and serve you for the rest of my mortal life.”
Heinrichter furrowed his brow. “All this for the role of captain? Bruce, have you lost your mind?”
He smiled impishly in turn. “Quite possibly.”
“Sounds like a reasonable offer.” He folded his hands behind his back and grinned. “So what do you suggest are the rules for this duel will be? I’ll be courteous and allow you to decide.”
The recruit crossed his arms and nodded. “Swords only, as it should be. The duel will end when either you or I die or admits defeat to the other.”
“Then we’re in agreement. I’m a busy man, so let’s put this to an end now. I’ll see you on the deck Recruit.”
“Best of luck to you.” Bruce said.
“You’re just asking to be put in your grave aren’t you?” Heinrichter hissed.
“A man must not fear death as it is only a limitation on progress.”
The boy furrowed his brows once more. “More like its the end of your progress.”
A majority of the crew had flocked to the deck to see the match, while those who still had duties to do remained below deck to fulfill them, to their dismay. The crew chatted noisily as the two prepared themselves, Bruce offering all of his rewards to Meyers to act as a mediator for the match so that he could not go back on his deal and flee with what he had promised. The captain drew a cutlass fit for a man of his stature from its sheath; though the weapon had seen its fair share of use, it still seemed in good shape, enough so that it could easily cut down any unwilling pirate that found himself on the blade’s edge. Bruce drew his cutlass, sliding his finger along the dull side of the blade and smiling confidently at the captain who stood adjacent to him.
“Today will not be the day you die Recruit. Having a personal servant is an offer I won’t pass up so easily.” Reeder took off his coat and threw it to one of the riggers in the crowd.
“I am in agreement that I will not die today, but I have no intention of becoming a servant, mind you. Though I will allow you to entertain the thought before I defeat you.”
The dark elf pushed his way to the front of the crowd and gazed upon the two while gripping his left arm tightly. “Bruce! Try not to die okay? Especially within the first thirty seconds or so, so you can at least retain a shred of your dignity!”
“Have an ounce of faith, would you lad?” Bruce said stealing a glance at the boy.
“Enough talk Recruit. Let’s begin.” The captain cracked his neck and began to approach Bruce.
He smiled devilishly as he shifted his coat aside, revealing his flintlock pistol miss fortune. With his free hand he drew the gun and pointed it at Reeder, firing a single shot through his heart, causing the man to grip the cavity within his chest for the brief period that he retained life. With a defeated groan the captain fell to the ground as a small pool of blood surrounded him.
“I have a gun.” Bruce said. “I win.”
The entirety of the crew watched in silence, every single member completely nonplussed by Bruce’s absolute victory. One of the mates began to clap and the rest of the crew followed suit, Heinrichter aside. The young dark elf remained shocked by the turn of events.
“Bruce!” The dark elf shouted. shouted. “You cheated!” The dark elf yelled. “Humans!” He threw his arms up in frustration. “Gods!”
Bruce knit his eyebrows. “Heinrichter, I strongly believe that it is high time you recognize that we are pirates just as you are. We do not play fair. Under no circumstances should you expect us to do so.” He replied.
He raised a finger to protest but slowly lowered it. “Okay fine. That’s reasonable. But you didn’t have to suddenly murder him! Could have just made him surrender and taken your prize.”
The new captain walked over to his subordinate and placed his hands on both his shoulders. “Listen lad, many men believe that a benevolent man is a merciful one, but what they do not know are that they are the most foolish. Your mercy will be a blessing and a curse throughout your journey. There will be times where you may have to make a decision that you may not agree with, but will do you more good in the future. It will do you well to remember this.” He turned to his crew. “Now then, you two, I would like you to throw Reeder’s corpse overboard, after properly looting it of anything of value of course.”
That evening Bruce sat in the captain’s quarters basking in his overwhelming victory. In such a short a short time he had escaped the Fenris, found a crew and a ship and commandeered it with ease. Though he was the new captain, the possibility of mutiny or that someone else would attempt to murder him and take his position remained a viable threat, but ones that he would certainly be prepared for. He gazed at the map that he had stolen from his old captain and attempted to understand what it was trying to lead him to, but to no avail. A knock at the door caught his attention and he approached it with his hand on his pistol.
“Who goes there?” He asked cautiously.
“Cap? It’s Myers. There’s a letter for you here.” After Myers finished speaking a small letter slipped under the door and the sound of her walking away followed afterwards.
Bruce broke the seal for the envelope and drew the letter from within, quickly skimming through the information within and sighing. It had not even been a day and someone was already after his position. First mate Kessler had taken Bruce’s lackey captive and requested that the new captain come to Leisym’s Cove so they could make a trade: Bruce’s money, map and position as captain in turn for Heinrichter’s life. Kessler was certain to have voiced his disdain for Bruce’s means to victory and becoming captain. He folded up the letter and shook his head. He hoped that in dealing with Kessler the others would get the message that getting in his way would not end well for them.
Leaving the quartermaster in charge of the ship in his absence, Bruce set out to the nearby cove armed with his best weapons and the conviction to reclaim his lackey without giving up his legacy.
Leisym’s Cove was a small area just off the coast of Port Town where wanted pirates often fled to to hide from their pursuers. There was enough space inside to fit up to two pirate vessels, and it offered great cover far away from the eyes of the public and pursuers alike. In his younger days he had once visited it during his time on the Fenris. He shuddered at the thought of remembering his youth on the vessel. He was a captain now, and nobody was allowed to take his crew members captive without his permission; despite the thought, there would be no question as the second they raised it he would be certain to end their life swiftly. He found himself at the entrance to the cove and cautiously walked in with miss fortune in hand.
The cove was dark and damp with a wide opening in the center for ships to enter and leave. On both sides of it were two walkways for crew members to board and disembark, each path leading towards very different destinations. A long strip of raised land separated the ships and made a place for them to set down a gangway; there he saw his ship’s first mate and his young lackey tied up. He carefully examined the situation as he entered and discovered that the first mate was only armed with a knife that he held to the lackey’s neck. Bruce deemed it to be his first and last mistake. He ascended a set of stone steps up towards the landing and cautiously approached Kessler while examining him for any possible hidden weapons, but from what Bruce could see the man had nothing more.
“So ya had the gall ta show yer face eh Cap’n?” Kessler asked with a grin.
Bruce remained silent for a moment attempting to understand exactly what the pirate was conveying to him, and seemed to come to a conclusion. “I do indeed.” He said. “I am sure you understand that I am not fond of my men stealing away my swabbies and demanding ransom. It stains my reputation as captain.”
Kessler snorted at the comment. “Yer reputation won’t count for nothin’ when yer workin’ under me. An’ I ain’t here to make pleasantries so out with it or the dark elf tastes tha bitter kiss of steel!”
Heinrichter shifted nervously while letting out a muffled scream as if he was shouting at Bruce. His incoherence was awarded with a curious glance from his captain.
Bruce reached into his pockets and drew his cash and his map and tossed them a fair distance away from Kessler and himself. The items now rested between the two at a distance that either could reach with a minimal amount of strides.
The first mate was not amused in the slightest by this act. Heinrichter continued to struggle and Kessler brought the knife closer to his neck putting an end to his struggle. “I ain’t playin’ yer game Milliner. Drop yer weapons, bring those here and walk away. Ya don’t want yer lil’ semi-human mongrel to taste my knife do ya’?” For a moment he sounded more educated than he really was.
Heinrichter glared at the first mate and began to struggle again with a new found vigor and managed to escape the confines of the cloth in his mouth, returning his vocal ability. “Semi-human?” He hissed. “I’m half high elf you cocksucker!” He insulted the first mate in English.
Bruce was almost surprised that Heinrichter was more annoyed by being called a semi-human than a mongrel, but he set the matter aside and deemed the boy to have a disdain for his kind. He looked at Kessler with a bored expression and sighed. He could think of a hundred other actions he could have been doing in the span of his leaving and his presence in the cove. Without a second thought he drew miss fortune and pointed it at the two. They immediately froze while looking like a pair of animals being eyed by their predator.
“Bruce, that might have worked on the captain but this guy has a meat shield. And it’s me!” Heinrichter cried. “What I’m trying to say is-DON’T. SHOOT.”
“Have ye gone mad man?” Kessler snarled. “Ya’d sooner kill us both than hit me with that thing!”
Had Heinrichter not been ransom, the two would have likely been thick as thieves, what with their love of incessant chatter. Their pleas and reasons did not shake Bruce’s resolve. He kept his weapon trained on the two and continued. “I’ll give you to the count of ten to let go of the boy and either leave or jump. Without my offer of course. If not, you could always pay in blood.” He smiled devilishly. “The choice is yours.”
The first mate kissed his teeth at the captain and Bruce did not appreciate it in the slightest. “Ye’ll kill the boy yerself? Ha!”
Heinrichter frowned. “I know you like to solve your problems through a very hands-on method, but the last thing I need is you to spread my brain matter across this landing!”
“Shut it!” Kessler smashed the pommel of the dagger into Heinricter’s nose and a trickle of blood followed it, along with an angry vein protruding from his forehead.
If Bruce did not act, the two would go at it all night. Better to kill both and be done with it, but the chancellor would have little use of a dark elf with a bullet through his brain, and Bruce even less so.The dead were never known for their talkative personalities. Bruce would be sure not to miss this shot. “Ten...” He began.
“You’re kidding right?” Heinrichter pleaded with knit eyebrows.
“Ya wouldn’t dare...” Kessler muttered glaring at the captain.
“Never though I’d die by being the hostage to some co-craven.” Heinrichter won himself another bash from the pommel, this time in his left eye. It turned a deeper shade of violet.
Bruce continued his countdown regardless.
“Enough beatin’ ‘round the bush Milliner! Shoot the boy and be done with it or hand over your shinies, craven!”
The captain’s mouth twitched slightly at the remark. In the midst of continuing his count from six he changed his mind. “Gods be damned.”
His finger began to pull the trigger and Heinrichter tightly shut both his eyes as the sound of miss fortune firing off reverberated across the cove. Blood blossomed forth like a crimson flower and painted the ground, while both men still stood as they had prior to the shot.
Heinrichter opened his right eye and finally took a breath. “I-I’m not dead? Lucky!” His eyes wandered to the first mate and he saw the man with a shocked expression, frozen in place with a gaping hole between his eyes. “Ugh!” The boy cried out shoving the corpse aside and wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand. “I did not need to see that.”
Bruce holstered his gun and reclaimed his goods. As he walked the boy eyed him curiously. “Is there something I can help you with?” He asked politely.
The boy knit his eyebrows and averted his gaze. “Eh...th-thanks. For not...you know...blowing my brains out.” He frowned. “You nearly did though! Gave me a damn heart attack there.”
Bruce cared little for thanks, as his intentions pointed in a different direction, and those words would certainly not increase the boy’s worth. But if he really did have potential, he could make a powerful ally worth keeping. Every risk has its rewards, and the bigger they are the better the gains would be. The captain had the sneaking suspicion that he may have hit the jackpot. “Let us be on our way. Time waits for no man.”
“What’s our next destination Bruce?”
The boy stopped and gazed at the captain awkwardly while Bruce seemingly gazed through him. He suddenly strode past Heinrichter and picked up Kessler’s knife, then handed it to the boy. “This is yours now. Use it to defend yourself, as I will not always be able to protect you.”
Heinrichter nodded. “You said that Naga girl was a mage right? If the Old World is built around magic, then its not impossible that I could become a mage too right?”
Bruce looked at him curiously. “Are you not a pirate?” Though he would certainly prefer to have a mage on board, better to find out now and have his hopes dashed than risk trying to have the boy learn a second class and hurt himself.
“Well I am, but can mages not be pirates? I mean, maybe the others won’t like it but its not impossible right?”
The captain had a hunch that the two were on completely different pages. “What do you know about selecting a class Heinrichter?”
“A class? I doubt it’d be the classes I’m thinking of, so are you referring to the educational type?”
Bruce frowned. “No. I am referring to your job. Be it a pirate, a knight, a mage, etc. Do you understand now?”
The boy looked nonplussed. “No way.” He said incredulously. “It actually works like that here? That’s awesome! So being a pirate is one of them?”
The captain nodded. “The captain of my first vessel was my mentor. I had spent the greater portion of my life with them and he had given it to me as proof of my accomplishments.”
Bruce knew the only reason he had done it was so that he had no ‘freelancers’ on board his ship, but it certainly saved Bruce years of gruesome ventures in ruins and training through multiple other classes to reach that point. Most mentors would not look twice at someone without a class and make them any of those higher in the tiers.
He continued, “To become a mage you will need a mentor to give you your rune.” He had hoped the boy would learn to be a necromancer instead, but he was willing to settle. Mages who did not destroy themselves could become very destructive beings. “Let us proceed to the capital, Mercy. I would like to claim a license to be a pirate mentor, and there you can find someone to mentor you in the ways of the mages.” Bruce realized what he had said after he said it and gave his thoughts pause. An ordinary mentor would call the guards on him for bringing a dark elf to the capital, so he would likely need to find an ‘undercover’ mage mentor. “Once you receive it you will be able to start learning. I will tell you more on the details of it later. For the time being, all I ask is that you refrain from getting yourself killed and/or captured.”
Heinrichter grinned. “Make a mage out of me and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Later that night Heinrichter stood on deck and looked up to the stars, solemnly watching the two pale moons gaze back at him. Hackett approached and gave him a tap on the shoulder causing him to turn around and salute purely by instinct.
“You’re more rigid than a mast kid. Relax a little.” He laughed. He gestured for the boy to follow and he did as was requested. “Captain’s calling everyone to make an announcement. Better not miss it.”
Everyone gathered around Bruce who now stood on a podium, made from nothing more than an orange crate. The extra height did seem to make him slightly more commanding than his usual self.
“Is that everyone? Yes I know you’re there Richards, hiding is futile.” Bruce spoke to the crowd as a whole. “Now that everyone has assembled, I would like to make an announcement.” The pirates did not exactly wait in bated breath for what their new captain had to say, but their expressions did hint that they were curious. “Since First Mate Kessler had suddenly passed away, I believe we will need to select someone to fulfill this role, and I happen to have a man in mind.” This brought some muttered words and excitement among the group. “Heinrichter, come on up!” Everything turned around as the excitement turned to confusion or derision.
“Have you gone mad Bruce?!” The boy said fighting his way through the crowd.
“I can assure you that I’m quite sane.” He replied with a charming smile. Heinrichter glared at him with enough fury to burn a hole through him upon his arrival. The captain gave him a rough pat on the back and chuckled. “My mind is made, and I strongly believe you will all come to understand why I made this decision in good time. That is all. You are dismissed.”
The annoyed and occasionally humoured crew went about their business and left the two alone.
“If you were trying to have me killed by the crew, I think you’ve just made me public enemy number one. Job well done.”
Heinrichter’s sarcastic remarks seemed to have absolutely no effect on Bruce, and this bothered him slightly. “The crew will not kill you. Prove to them that you are capable and all will be water under the bridge. If you do it well your subordinates will accept you.”
The word subordinates had a nice ring to it; he felt somewhat tempted to follow through with Bruce’s decision, though he likely did not have a choice in the matter. “Why did you pick me though? There are many other capable men and women on board this ship. Many capable human men and women.”
He wanted to drive the point home-he was no human, and being a first mate on the Shrieking Banshee was out of his league. He had spent very little time as a pirate, and he did not have the slightest clue what the first mate’s job was. That aside, he refused to be another circus for the entertainment for humanity. Once was more than enough, and even if it was for Bruce, he would not stoop so low. They could take everything away from him, but if nothing else, he would wish to hold to his pride.
“Because I trust you.” The expression in Bruce’s voice left Heinrichter at a loss. He had rarely ever heard the man speak in such a serious tone, even when threatening to kill someone, which he did without hesitation.
Heinrichter gazed down at his shoes, at a loss for words. He could argue the point, but he would have nothing to say against Bruce’s four words. A man who could trust a dark elf would be branded a fool, and likely every other possible insult that came to mind. The young dark elf knew he was likely in over his head, but he would let his conviction be his guide through the challenge. He would most certainly overcome it, and he would become a mage regardless of the challenges he would face to get to Mercy.
“Fine. I’ll do it.” He replied.
“Excellent. I had faith that you would.” Bruce nodded with approval. “Now I have a question for you Heinrichter.”
He uneasily looked at the captain. “What do you want to know?”
“Why do you have manacles on both of your wrists?”
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