Dusk began to set in as the sun sank below the horizon. While the areas of town closer to shore were quieter than usual thanks to the presence of the Imperial Navy, further inland, the town was its usual seedy self. Scantily clad, painted women stood at doorways tempting men who had been at sea for weeks to part with their money. The buildings here housed shops that offered various trinkets and wares at outrageously low prices for what was advertised. Most of their goods were counterfeits, passing stainless steel as silver, pyrite as gold, garnets as sapphires… These shops mostly preyed on sailors new to the region and though it was the low season, the merchants were out in full force.
“It’s like they know their days are numbered,” Bardrick muttered after intimidating a pushy salesman into backing off with nothing but a dirty look. “That little rat could at least have his office close to the shore like all the other fixers.”
“Being perched up on the cliff makes him feel fancy,” Firch said. “He’s also the first to see when a ship rounds the Beetle up where he is. A lot of wheeling and dealing can be done with that time. It’s part of the reason he’s in the position he is today.”
“King rat in a den of rats,” Bardrick spat.
“Now I know the two of you don’t get along, but I just need you to stand there and look intimidating today, alright?” Firch warned. “With the governor signing this rock over to the Empire, all of Thuley’s hard work is going to go up in smoke. That’s going to make him a little ornery.”
Bardrick grunted. “How is that my problem?”
“Upsetting him is going to get in the way of us getting paid,” Firch pointed out.
“The two of you have a contract,” Bardrick shrugged.
“All the same…” Firch paused when a boy of around six brushed passed him. He caught the boy’s wrist in a vice like grip, and plucked the pouch the boy had lifted from his pocket out of his hand before sending him packing with a stern look.
“Aren’t you going to recruit him like you did the last one?” Bardrick asked mockingly as he shot Duglin a pointed look.
“I don’t see the need for more than one pickpocket on my crew,” Firch replied as the boy disappeared into the crowd.
The young man paused and looked up at the grand mansion that stood at the top of the street. White Heloican style pillars held up a sweeping Dorfinian roof. This was all topped by a covered viewing platform that was manned around the clock. The mansions walled off grounds were sprawling, covering the entire peak of the hill and ensuring that no one but Thuley’s men could spy ships as they approached the Beetle.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been up here,” Firch remarked. “I forgot how… unique his house is.”
“An eyesore is what it is,” Bardrick snorted, and Duglin found himself nodding in agreement.
“Now, he’s very proud of what he’s built,” Firch said as they walked up to the mansion’s gate. “He’s going to try and rile you up, pick a fight. It’s important you don’t rise to the bait. Just keep your mouths shut and let me do the talking.”
Bardrick’s eyebrows and voice shot up in surprise. “You think he doesn’t want to go through with the deal?”
“The possibility crossed my mind,” Firch said before pounding on the solid oak door.
“Then what’s stopping him from not entertaining us tonight?” Bardrick asked.
“We have a contract,” Firch replied simply. “He’s not going to risk a brand by refusing to see us.”
Just then, an eye slit slid open on the gate, revealing a pair of beady eyes. They saw Firch and narrowed. “Who’s there?”
“Firch Seager, master of the Vesper,” he replied. “Here to see your boss about a job we just finished for him.”
“The boss is sleeping, come back tomorrow,” the man replied without closing the slot.
Firch let out a weary sigh. “Listen, I know your boss told you to try and get us to leave but also to let us in if we insist. We’ve just landed after a long voyage and I’m a little weary, so can we dispense with this little song and dance and skip to the part where you let us in anyway?”
The man on the other side of the gate glared at Firch for a moment before growling. “Wait there. I’ll go wake him up, but he won’t be happy about it.”
“What was that about not making him angry?” Bardrick asked when the slot slammed shut.
Firch sighed before folding his arms and leaning against the gate. “Make yourselves comfortable, men. I get the feeling we will be waiting for a while.”
It was two hours before the gates swung open. Duglin had fallen asleep, and Bardrick had to elbow the boy in the ribs to rouse him. As the trio got to their feet, they found a dozen men waiting for them on the other side of the gate. They were dressed in fine clothes in every colour of the rainbow, looking like so many peacocks. Duglin would have burst out in laughter at the sight of them were it not for the brace of pistols and the sword each man wore in his belt.
“Good evening, boys,” Firch called out. “Are you here to take us to your boss?”
One of their number, wearing an unbuttoned crimson shirt and a broad hat with a colourful feather in its band stepped forward and nodded. Instead of leading them into the mansion, the man guided them to a small gazebo in a quiet corner of the garden. Sitting on the only chair at a small table was a tall, thin, bespectacled man dressed in a velvet evening gown. His hair was as white as the gloves he wore, and he sipped at a teacup made from delicate porcelain before gesturing at his man, who in turn gestured Firch forward.
“Good evening, Thuley,” Firch said. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
The man scowled. “You pulled into port late, and I thought we could both use a little rest before having this meeting.”Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
“Well, with the Imperial Navy in the bay, people are a little skittish, and who can blame them?” Firch replied easily. “They’re eager to be paid, and so are we.”
“I see Inder isn’t with you,” Thuley remarked, seeming as though he hadn’t heard Firch speak. “So he’s finally left your ship. I don’t see why he was sailing under you in the first place. Men who crossed the Southern Malestrom and lived to tell the tale are in high demand.”
“The Captain came back from that voyage as well,” Bardrick pointed out.
“As a cabin boy,” Thuley laughed, and his accent grew coarser and more broad. “Inder was third mate. There’s a yawning chasm of a gap ‘twixt the two. Why, there were no shortage of captains promising him the world to join their crews, but he went and chose to join some hairless boy.”
The white haired man’s mouth twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at Firch. “Say, the two of you aren’t sly, are you?”
The vein in Bardrick’s neck bulged as his face turned crimson. Just when he looked like he was about to erupt, the bear of a man winced when Firch kicked him in the shin. The Captain shot him a warning look before turning back to Thurley. “If we’re done reminiscing, I’m here about the job. We found your ship, the cargo was there like you said, and we’ve brought it here like you told us to. Now, I’d like to get paid so your men can get it off my ship.”
“You were seen,” Thuley pointed out.
“We were,” Firch admitted. “But we weren’t identified, so our contract is still valid.”
“You didn’t get everything neither, based on how high your ship was riding, and the fact that the Empire knew what was on that wreck,” Thuley countered.
“We made our best effort to get everything,” Firch shrugged. “You can prorate our pay.”
“The hell he can,” Bardrick protested but fell silent when his Captain shot him a look.
Firch turned back to Thuley and crossed his arms. “We’ve got what you’ve asked for. It is of great value…”
“Did you take a peek?” the old man ventured.
“We did not,” Firch said. “My crew and I have fulfilled our end of the bargain, and it seems to me that you are determined to not do the same.”
Thuley chuckled and shook his head for a moment before speaking. “Thing is, my buyer has gotten a little skittish in light of the Navy showing up. It’s too dangerous to be caught with what you’ve pinched. He’s pulled out of the deal.”
“That’s a shame,” Firch admitted. “Also, not my problem. My contract was with you.”
“Here’s the thing,” Thuley said spreading out his hands. “You’ve been identified and failed to bring all the goods.”
“Through no fault of our own,” Firch pointed out.
“And circumstances have changed on my end as well,” Thuley continued.
“Again, not my fault, nor my problem,” Firch said firmly.
“Well not your fault, maybe,” Thuley allowed. “But it is your problem. There are extenuating circumstances on both sides. Enough to declare the contract null and void.”
Firch’s voice became low and dangerous. “Are you willing to risk a brand to find that out for sure?”
Thuley looked Firch in the eye before replying. “I am. I refuse to pay.”
The pair locked eyes for what felt like an eternity. At length, Thuley touched his cheek before turning to his men.
“There’s nothing, boss,” he said.
The old man breathed a sigh of relief and gave Firch a triumphant look. “There, see? Ergon is on my side with this one.”
“So it seems,” Firch allowed. “Come on boys, we’re leaving.”
Bardrick fumed as they were led out, but was able to hold onto his temper until the gates to Thuley’s mansion were closed behind them. “I thought we had a contract. How come Ergon didn’t brand that little rat?”
“Extenuating circumstances,” Firch replied and furrowed his brow. “This puts us in a bind.”
“I’ll say,” Bardrick spat. “What do we do now?”
“Head back to the Vesper,” Firch replied. “We need to leave as soon as we can.”
Bardrick’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “Do you think Thuley will rat us out to the Empire?”
Firch shook his head. “No, that would earn him a brand for sure.”
“What is it we’re carrying, anyway?” Duglin blurted and shrank back when the other two looked at him.
“I think it’s high time we found out,” Firch said at length.
They walked the rest of the way back to the docks in silence, and as they approached the Vesper, Raimala called out. “That took longer than expected. Trouble?”
“I’ll explain later,” Firch replied.
“So, trouble, then,” Raimala remarked glibly.
“Anything happen while we were gone?” Firch asked as he climbed the gangplank. “Where’s Inder?”
“Marsel needed help with the provisioning,” she replied. “Dorian wouldn’t even set things aside without a man present.”
Firch grunted irritably. “That old goat always was a stickler for doing things the ‘proper’ way, but why go through him? What about the others?”
“Well, it’s the low season so no one was stocking much,” Raimala explained. “What little there was got bought out by the Navy. Dorian was the only one with anything left to sell.”
“Must have been because of his sunny disposition,” Firch remarked dryly and then noted the expression on his Pilot’s face. “Is there anything else?”
“Funny you should mention that,” Raimala said before stepping closer to the Captain and lowering his voice. “A stranger came earlier wanting to see you about a job. Said he wouldn’t leave without speaking to you. Gives me the creeps, he does.”
“Where is he now?” Firch asked.
“He’s in your cabin,” she replied and shook her head. “Thinking back on it now, it’s kind of strange. It’s like we couldn’t say no to him.”
“I’ll see what he wants,” Firch said. He paused at the door to his cabin and turned around to look at Duglin. “Come with me.”
“Me?” Duglin asked.
“If I leave you with them, they’re going to grill you on how the meeting went,” Firch replied.
“What’s wrong with that?” Marsel asked as she appeared from the shadows. “Did the meeting go poorly? Was it because we left stuff behind?”
“It’s complicated, and I’ll need to explain the nuances of our situation to the lot of you,” Firch said.
“That bad, eh?” Tash remarked from behind Marsel.
Firch pulled the door open and cocked his head. “Go on, get inside.”
“What about Bardrick?” Duglin blurted.
“He won’t be pressured into spilling the beans,” Firch replied.
“You’ve got that right,” the bear of a man agreed as he folded his arms across his bulging chest and put on his most intimidating look.
Reluctantly, Duglin entered the Captain’s cabin. It was tidy and sparsely furnished. A bunk and desk bolted to the bulkhead, a small wardrobe, and a mirror. As soon as he stepped inside, Duglin felt light headed and had to hold onto a wall to steady himself. Then, he saw a bald man sitting on an easy chair, staring at him with eyes that seemed as black as pits. Duglin tried to avert his gaze but was unable to. His head began to spin as he felt the unsettling black eyes probing him.
“Ah, the famous Captain Seager,” his words seemed to be swallowed up by the room, forcing Duglin to strain to hear what he was saying. “You are as young as they say.”
“He’s not the Captain,” Firch said as he walked into the cabin and closed the door behind him. “I am.”
The man smiled, revealing two rows of perfect, white teeth as he set his eerie black eyes on Firch. He wore a simple black robe that seemed to absorb the light given off by the nearby candles, making them cast unusually long shadows across the room.
“You also have a reputation of having branded and women on your crew,” the man continued. “My name is Andar Eloudin, and I have a job for an open minded Captain such as yourself.”
Firch eyed the bald man for a moment before arching an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”
“I need passage to…” the man began.
“For how many?” Firch asked sharply.
Andar looked stunned for a moment. Then, a smile slowly crept across her face. “Ah, so you know…”
“That you are a witch hunter, yes, I am aware,” Firch said.
The witch hunter smiled. “How astute of you, captain.”
“What I want to know is whether or not you are bringing a prisoner with you,” Firch said brusquely.
“I am,” he said. “Just the one, though.”
Firch nodded slowly. “That will raise the price considerably.”
“That is understandable,” the witch hunter nodded slowly. “I take it you are agreeable to take the job on?”
“I’m agreeable to discussing terms,” Firch allowed. “However, I won’t be able to give you an answer tonight. I will have to think things over and discuss the matter with my crew first.”
“Understandable.” The witch hunter nodded and spread his hands. “Now then, shall we begin negotiations?”