Chapter 131: Fated Meeting of Three

Book 3, Chapter 30 - Fated Meeting of Three

“What are we selling in this backwater town?” Eksa grumbled. She skipped down the gangplank and hopped to the docks with a light thud. Fishermen folding their nets on nearby boats cast sidelong glances her way. Mere fishermen. Eksa let out a snort and made a show of flicking her hair, though having it tied back. She crinkled her nose. There was a rot in the air fouling the fragrance of the sea.

“This town serves as a meeting point for Katuri merchants,” Aki explained. She stretched out with a yawn, her garb of folding robes a white version instead of the normal dark she tended to wear. She had a spear bound to her back and the typical shamshir at her hip. Her lean arms were masked by shining black leather bracers. She smirked at Eksa who was pinching her nose. “I think this place would have more residents as a trade hub, but the smell keeps them away. The locals like drying fish.”

Eksa noticed them on rooftops as Aki was speaking of it. She fished out a small bottle from her trousers and puffed out the rose scented perfume about her person. A small quarter of Eurale's portside markets had this same stench. It was unbearable —as unbearable as unwashed people. Eksa abhorred her memories as a slave locked in a carriage for days with others. She could afford better now. She dared not recall those times while she had the means to live differently. “I forgot to ask. What does Dhorjun trade in? I always seem to be asleep whenever the ship is being loaded.”

Aki peered down the horizon, one hand shading her eyes. “Wares and things. I've seen him sell my best bottles for thrice my price. Poor fools.”

Eksa put her hands on her hips in disbelief, but the barkeep's attention was on some sort of a group approaching the town from the east, rather than the south where Katur lay. They were but a black speck seeming an illusion in heat haze. Aki had good sight if she could make them out from this far. To Eksa, they were no larger than a fly.

Her eyes fell upon a smaller vessel moored a short distance from The Virulence . An Empire merchant caravel. It had a lonely white flag bearing the Red Hand of Tarmia upon the main mast. A lovely looking gal with a few guards aboard to look after her. A mast by the bow held a single folded sail of snow white. A single main mast sporting three more sails and two rear masts with a single canvas each. She was young, this ship. Her sails were clean, and the wood had a strong deep color unworn yet by the waves. A few months old at most perhaps.

Eksa'd gotten too absorbed with admiring an object again. She cursed at herself, patting one half of her face with a kerchief. The sun was reaching noonday heights. Her tricorne didn't provide enough shade. This wasn't ideal for a redhead like her. She glanced around for some shade to squat by while everyone else disembarked from Captain Dhorjun's vessel.

Eksa found a boy looking her way, expression plain as if studying her. His shaggy black hair was in dire need of a thorough wash before being groomed with a soft brush. Strangest of all was his attire. A shirt with holes and trousers with their sleeve ends torn as if chewed out by a mouse, a half inch of shins revealed with large dark boots beneath that couldn't possible fit someone his size. He stood an inch or two taller than Eksa. But strangest of all was that black coat of his. A thick black coat forged in either western or northern style. Winter clothes, in these lands, in this season. So strange. So… weird.

And why is he still staring at me so shamelessly? He hadn't even averted his eyes when Eksa met his. She shook her head. Probably just someone else floored by her exotic appearance. Or a simpleton. She winked and flashed a seductive smile, waiting for that inevitable return ugly smile or surprised wide eyes of a dog that'd just received a treat.

The boy frowned.

A disgusted frown. He seemed… angry? He turned away and pulled out a knife, putting it to the ends of his hair as if he'd read her mind and felt insulted by her thoughts of it. So weird.

Eksa shrugged to herself and turned away. Aki had disappeared into the village, speaking with locals as a familiar. Dhorjun and Crow were conversing with a tan skinned man in fine silk attire near the Empire vessel. There was a brief exchange of words. Then the three men stalked off into the village, Dhorjun leading with the Empire merchant at his side and Crow flanking with hand to cutlass at his waist.

Eksa decided to follow, wanting to get an up close and in depth look at how these adults traded. It was likely her future as well. If she was to be a great sailor, one of the best ways to gain renown would be through having positive trade connections with many others. Her father was also a famed merchant. There was an art to closing deals, and that art differed with each customer. Merely selling quality items didn't make a decent merchant.

Eksa doubted Dhorjun had half the grace and charm of Mikael, but the giant still fancied himself a trader of sorts, despite his duty as Eurale's navy commander. Surely there was some experience she could learn from. Or learn what not to do , the pride in her thought.

***

Mely?

Aaron rubbed his eyes. It couldn't be. She seemed a tad shorter, but that unmistakeable head of flame and pretty face to match. Soft round cheeks and freckles at the sides of her nose. Her face was reddening by the minute as she beamed whilst staring at the Empire ship. Aaron glanced at the vessel, seeing nothing of note that could have caught Mely's attention. He started toward her. She patted one half of her face with a kerchief, then turned his way, their eyes meeting and giving him pause. She seemed…different. Younger. He studied her. It wasn't particularly wise for an Estraean to be under a naked sun.

Mely winked with her left eye and flashed a seductive smile.

Aaron frowned. This was not Melyanne. Mely didn't have the left half of her face any longer. He was disgusted with himself for not remembering. She saved you. She saved your worthless life and sacrificed her beauty for it. And what did you do? You abandoned her .

He pulled his eyes away from this girl and pulled out one of his stolen knives to idle. He didn't know what to do with it. The locals wholly ignored him after that scamming incident and these newcomers didn’t spare him a glance save for this girl. He set the knife to his hair and began sawing away the ends, keeping an eye on The Virulence as its crew disembarked while unloading cargo. The soldierly ones had left long ago, accompanying a hulk of a man with a great black mane around his face. Probably the captain. His appearance somehow resembled his ship's name. The rest were a ragtag of faces whose personalities Aaron could guess from long years living in a brothel. And from memories of his ancestors.

He was certain an opportunity to sneak aboard would soon present itself, Viper waiting patiently within his shadow.

***

Jack opened his eyes to a stream of slurs.

“Flaming heat. Me back's as wet as—” Shank began.

“—Your mams when I'm done with'er,” Laosa finished, mimicking the former's accent.

“That thing has a mother?” asked hairless Longbraid. Shank's origins had become a recurring joke within the group.

Jack squinted while rubbing his eyes. Everything was irritatingly bright. He sucked in a long breath and held it, feeling a sense of panic arise from the pit of his stomach as his mind was brought back to those painful years waking up as a chained animal before a wall of luminite.

Now he was a caged animal strung along on a journey with bandits. He laughed, early morning voice throaty like the wheels of this wagon grinding against a rocky reddish ground.

Jack slowly sat upright, clenched muscles crying as he eased away the stiff shape they'd taken while he was curled and asleep. The sun was well into the sky. Around noon it seemed, blinding light reflecting off the gravel and sand mixture.

The bandits continued their bickering. Shank seemed on the verge of violence when Ning, riding ahead, threw back a waterskin. The burly man caught it and chugged long. Jack stared in envy. He needed a drink. A really long drink. The bandits gave him water every now and then, but that wasn't what was now causing Jack's lips to crack and his skin to flake. He could feel his own cheekbones trying to pry out of the thin layer of skin on top. His hair was rough and now past his shoulders. His shins and arms were now thinner than branches fallen off a young tree.

Ning had become really disappointed with Jack's state of being. The scheming bandit had been charitable in giving food portions, but the thinning state of his prisoner had caused him to reconsider the investment. Jack saw it in the man's eyes. Ning had more than once thought of killing Jack and putting an end to the bandits' long journey in an attempt to sell him for a small fortune. But something had stayed Ning's hand. Perhaps it was out of necessity to see the sale through, Jack thought. Or maybe it was pride, for killing the creature was something Shank advocated for every chance he opened his mouth. Or mayhap it was mercy. Probably not .

Jack knew he was dying. Most of him welcomed an end to this misery. But a small struggling consciousness thought otherwise. It sought to survive. To live out until justice for his slain mother could be attained. It forced Jack to check his persons for his belongings, and his dying self was too weak to argue against this minority in his mind. His dagger was still in his trouser pockets. And Jahck was still at his side.

Jack wore his mask. It always gave him a pebbles worth of confidence and rationale. Though, even with it on, thinking positive thoughts was becoming harder by the day with his body getting so desperately weak. He was beginning to doubt he would have the chance to lunge at whoever it was these bandits managed to sell him to. He just needed a good ten seconds with his teeth stuck in someone's throat. Just ten uninterrupted seconds for a few satisfying mouthfuls of nectar. Assuming he lived long enough to be transferred to the hands of another master. Assuming someone even bothered to purchase a cursed and hated creature like Jahck.

Just ten seconds .

Flames. Was it so hard for the Creator to grant him this small a gift?

Bickering gulls pulled Jahck out of his thoughts. They circled in the skies ahead like a group of vultures over a field of death. Jahck squinted again, finding the rooftops of a small village before him. To its right was a deep blue stretching to the horizon, split apart only by the lighter color of the sky. The sea. Jahck's dried lips parted a fraction behind the mask. Such majesty.

His lips cracked. He tasted iron.

“Who's gon buy this creature in a small town like this?” Shank asked as the bandit caravan continued toward the village. They always hid from villages, sending only one or two if necessary.

“Keep your mouth shut,” was Ning's reply from ahead, “And let me do all the talking.”

Petty Shank stuck up his middle finger, though Ning could not see. “Place don't even look like it got a funhouse,” he grumbled.

Jack took off his mask again. The bandits —the smarter ones at least— were planning to sell him here it seemed. He slumped back against the bars of his cage and closed his eyes, relinquishing himself to the heat. They traveled all this way just to sell me. Hah! Someone does care about me it seems.

He wished to die in that moment. Wished to become naught but a lump of flesh and bone. The bandits will then have traveled all this way for nothing. They'd look like clowns. That would be terribly funny, though he wouldn't be alive to see it. A final joke —one that was for once not played on Jack himself.

He smiled. The smile turned to cackles. The cackles brought terrible pain. They then turned to wheezes. And the wheezes inevitably became whimpers. Still, it'd be Flaming hilarious if he died.

***

Viper, hidden in Aaron's shadow, focused his attention on the idle talk of passersby disembarking the newly arrived vessel. He sought to find out where this vessel had come from and what manner of goods its crew dealt in. Eurale seemed to be the answer to the where. The what seemed mostly wares and drink.

Aaron took a step forward, causing Viper's attention to shift. He was to continue the act of inspection until The Virulence emptied and they found an opportunity to sneak aboard for a few minutes. Viper wanted to see paper and books, yes. But he also wanted information on the merchant selling shase. Fat chance it was these merchants, but they might be well connected and let slip a name or something of note for Viper to keep at the back of his mind.

An opportunity to end an evil. Unless Aaron required otherwise of course.

The princeling was staring at a girl who'd disembarked from the large vessel. If her attire wasn't already strange, then her hair certainly was. Pale skinned with a fiery head, a white shirt with loose sleeves and a pair of trousers half veiled by knee high black boots, heels elevated. She seemed about Viper's own height with the aid of those boots. He racked his brain to deduce her characteristics. Her hair color belonged to both the Virk tribes far north and Estraea. The Virk weren't known to leave their mountains. Viper decided she was Estraean.

The girl flashed a wink Aaron's way, to which the princeling frowned. A familiar face from his past? Aaron turned away from her, wholly ignoring her now. Someone with familiar characteristics then .

The girl turned her attention to her dark maned captain. The giant man was speaking with a person from the Tarmian merchant ship. They walked away from the docks and into the fishing village, the Tarmian bearing a worried look on his face. A threat perhaps? Or am I assuming because of that captain's size? And that weapon. White Flames, a cudgel?

Viper became curious as to what words had been exchanged between these merchants and why one looked afraid for his life. So long as Aaron didn't give him any specific orders, it was perhaps alright to investigate matters on his own. To take the role of his father, of the real Viper, and dole out justice in extremity if required.

But what if it interferes in Aaron's machinations? The young prince had already proven himself adept at subtle games with that scamming fish seller. A minor incident, but Aaron was still thinking a few steps ahead. A likely result of those ancient memories of his.

Viper examined his friend as Aaron put a knife to his hair and began cutting off the long ends while patiently waiting for the crew of the Virulence to finish unloading their cargo.

The Estraean girl was approaching.

Viper had to make his decision now. His heartrate picked up as he found himself backed into a corner. He looked over the ship before him. Large. If it held as much cargo as he assumed, then it would be a while yet before it was entirely empty.

The girl walked by Aaron, their two shadows touching for a split second.

Viper made his decision. He latched onto the girl's shadow, feeling that she too was curious about her own captain's actions and would follow him.

It took a whole two seconds for Viper to regret his decision. He was Aaron's weapon. And he'd just abandoned his master. What happens when the prince calls on his aid and finds his hip barren of both belt and blade? What happens if Aaron decides to board the ship with the confidence in knowledge of his only friend's company but finds abandonment instead?

Too late to ponder on those questions now. The only way for Viper to return now would be to materialize from the Umbra and expose himself to all those around.

***

Eksa cast a sidelong glare at the boy in the coat as she passed by him. He didn’t spare her a glance despite having ogled at her for a good half minute. Had he decided she was ugly? No. Impossible. He was stupid if he had. Which was entirely possible. She rolled her eyes at herself. No reason to care. She followed her captain and his right hand from a distance, knowing Crow would be wary of her if she strayed too close.

Eksa pinched her nose on her way down the dusty lane, earning smirks from locals. Her perfume was being overpowered by the sheer amount of dried fish left up on the rooftops of these shoddy huts. Unfortunate children were left to sit atop them and guard for seagulls flying around for an easy treat. Just like carrion birds. Just like Crow . She giggled at her own joke, blushing soon after as brows were raised her way.

“Hoo girl! Girl of fire!” a man called from across the rocky and unkempt street. He was squatting before a fire, frying something from a wok hanging overhead. A pleasant smell mingled with the putrid stench of the surrounds, drawing Eksa closer like bait on a hook. “Fresh pomfret from this morning's catch. Fried in butter, salted with sea salt. Full copper for a stick. You won't find this anywhere else, I assure you.”

Pomfret. Eksa vaguely recalled the taste of black pomfret from back home. A delectable treat if prepared right. And deep fried with salt was exactly what her tongue was craving after a sweet and sticky breakfast. And this seller was squatting in the shade of a palm tree's leaf. She could just about use shade.

She stopped a few feet short of the seller. He ignored her, focusing on his craft, flipping little toothpicks with chunks of fish meat over his plate sized wok. A full copper for just that amount? She swallowed down a mouthful of tasteless saliva. She could afford this luxury now. No need to hold back. She squatted down, taking in the full breadth of the heavenly aroma, finding a tinge of nostalgia within it. No need to hold back at all .

The fish sizzled as the seller placed a new stick inside, small bubbles fizzling up within the butter it was being fried in. Eksa noticed that there were six sticks already ready. She stuck her hand in her purse and prodded around for the appropriate coins, holding them out at the seller. “I'll take all you have prepared,” she announced with a beam, slurring that last syllable as she stifled a drop of saliva from coming out.

Eksa thought she heard a cough behind her. She glanced back to see no one.

The man finally looked up at her, offering a kindred smile. He examined the copper pieces and pocketed them swiftly, dabbing sweat from his face with a red rag tied around his forehead. “Very wise, our young maiden of fire. A growing girl like you needs to eat plenty.” He leaned in and winked. “Especially if you're looking to attract a young handsome man.”

Eksa felt her face grow hot, hoping the southern heat was masking the color on it. She took her food from the kind fellow and hurried away from the comforting shade of the palm leaf, hoping her purchase did not induce regret. She took her first bite from the grease glazed piece of fish, flinching at how hot it was. Eksa juggled it around with her tongue while breathing out her mouth. The taste hit her a few seconds later, shaping her lips into a crescent brighter than all three of Illusterra's moons combined. Her greedy eyes set upon her remaining sticks of fish. She did not at all regret her purchase.

But her purse did feel a tad lighter than she was comfortable with.

***

Viper found himself shaking his head. This scumbag hadn't retracted his behaviour after his failed scam attempt on Aaron. Fortunately for him, this Estraean girl was immensely stupid. So stupid that Viper had decided to help, coughing from within her shadow as she pulled out the payment worth more than a dozen fresh loaves of bread for a mere six morsels of food. She turned her head but didn't catch the hint when seeing nothing behind her.

Obviously.

Flames. I must be as dumb as her. That or she was impulsive and was thinking with her stomach than with her head. The girl blushed at a haphazard compliment meant to draw her back if ever she felt hungry —or greedy— again, skipping away from the scammer. There were eyes from the sides following her, all of them fixed upon her pockets within which her purse hid. Viper doubted any of these villagers would try anything with so many of this merchant crew bearing scarred arms and weapons at their sides.

The girl resumed her shadowing of her captain just as the hulking man ducked into the dim cast of a tavern. Viper studied her as she bit into a hot piece and fumbled it in her mouth like a child, breathing out in gasps. So stupid . Would it kill her to be clumsy too and accidently drop a piece by her feet?

Viper found himself salivating. The girl, unfortunately, was not as clumsy as she was stupid. What a tragedy.

***

Having nothing to do, as was usual, Jack sat cross legged at the center of his cage, counting the wrinkles upon each bony finger. Hardly any different to counting stars. There seemed a number too great to track. His eyelids grew heavy, the heat a drowse inducing spell. At bare least the roof of his cage provided shade to protect his pale skin. But his throat was parched. So very parched.

All but one of the bandits had abandoned the caravan, the sole guard a man with a suntan and a missing pinky. Jack couldn't recall this man's name. Nor his voice in fact. Had that man ever spoken? The bandit sat a lengthy distance away, back to a tree. Jack was left alone.

Well, he was always alone really. But having company around and banter of many to listen to brought a peace of mind he didn't know he desired so greatly. Jack didn’t want to be alone. Yet alone is all he'd ever been. Alone is all he ever would be.

The criminally attained booty was kept to the edge of this seaside village. Jack assumed the smarter of the thieves had gone seeking a buyer for him while the others probably went to sit under a roof with a drink or some such, using up their meager fortunes attained from selling stolen goods. A thick smell accompanied the occasional breeze. The smell of shriveled and sun dried fish carcasses lining rooftops. Jack managed a smile. A line of blood rolled down his chin from cracked pink lips. How long, he wondered, would it be before the gulls encircled his cage and stabbed their beaks inside for a taste? How long before he too became a shriveled corpse.

“How long before I die as my mother did?” he giggled.

***

Dhorjun disappeared into a tavern, Crow following after. Eksa counted to a hundred before deciding to proceed, savouring the taste of her second to last stick of fried fish in the center of the street.

“You aren't very good at this whole sneaking business,” said Aki's voice from behind.

Eksa jumped. The last of her fish sticks slipped from her fingers. She flailed in an attempt to catch it but ultimately failed and her expression turned sour. She turned on the barkeep, glaring with pouting lips, tears welling behind her eyes.

Aki giggled. “After so many months and my voice still scares you, little strawberry? Or were you just afraid of being caught?”

“I wasn't sneaking,” Eksa tried, searching about her feet for her last stick. Maybe it could be dusted off? But where's it gone? “I was curious about how business is conducted.”

“Ah, so you have wide dreams of your own then? Come along. There will be quite a bit of shouting and drinking before any real talk happens. We can sit in a corner and observe if you'd like. Any longer in the sun and you really will turn into a strawberry.”

Eksa blushed, keeping her head down, eyes still flitting in search of her last stick. A childish sorrow crept in as she realized it was gone. A drink would help wash that away.

“Oh and Eksa, really, don't try sneaking again. You just can't. You're easier to spot than the light of Eurale's Eye at night.”

Eksa closed her fists. “I told you, I wasn't sn— ugh forget it.” The barkeep wouldn't believe her anyway. Hardly her fault for being born with flaming hair. She took a look around to see locals studying her without the grace of seeming inconspicuous. I stand out like a beacon . She followed Aki into the tavern, lips twisting down as the realization of being babysat stabbed at her well of Estraean pride.

***

Viper licked away lingering grease from his lips. Fate had been kind enough to him to give him a gift. He flicked the small empty stick out of the Umbra just as the girl named Eksa followed an armed woman into a tavern. Viper's restrictions were lifted, the Umbra before him expanding within the shade of this space. But a racket followed the dark rather than the usual quiet. None of these sailors seemed quite as drunk as they would be, but they spoke in such loud tones more befitting people a dozen meters apart.

Eksa and the woman seated themselves at an empty table in a corner. The woman waved her hand and the single employee, a stout man with a kempt beard around the mouth, hurried over with a bottle, navigating his way through all the tripping hazards of unmannered legs stretched out.

The room appeared separated in two cliques; One, the sailors of The Virulence . The other were the crew of the already shored Empire merchant vessel. The tavern was large enough to serve twice as many people as present, and it was soon forced to serve more as a third group of men entered. Ten there were, dressed in full sleeved clothes unbefitting of the southern heat. Some had patchworks of leather or even iron armor. A mercenary band? Here, in a fishing village?

Viper ignored them and moved closer to the black maned giant who sat at the bar counter. His original purpose in following the girl had been to eavesdrop on the conversation between merchants. Would that fate reward him again with the name of the narcotics seller?

“…pay in gold,” the dark haired captain was saying. He twisted his body to reveal that gruesome cudgel hanging from his hip to his conversation partner.

“Captain Dhorjun, I must repeat that my ship is not for sale,” said the wiry man. He sipped from a flagon, gaze flickering towards that ugly weapon worn by the one called Dhorjun. “Price offered is irrelevant.” The man smoothed out a sky blue shawl hanging from one shoulder. Only high ranking officials of Tarmia were known to wear those.

Dhorjun snorted. “Pretty soon that vessel won't be for sail neither. Either take the offer or…”

“You wouldn't dare,” the Tarmian huffed. “You're getting too full of yourself with the backing of Xenaria's fleet. They won't protect you for long. Xenaria will soon fall and you'll have none but the dry desert as your ally.”

Something changed within Dhorjun's demeanor. Viper knew a man considering violence when he saw it. He remembered the markings upon the sails of The Virulence . The giant was a worshipper of one of the lesser deities, the desert god Shuari.

“Why don't we think a little smaller, mm Captain Kara?” said a third man. He had been the one following Dhorjun from a few paces behind. A bald man wearing a coat reminiscent of Lacerta. Viper hated him already. “You might not even live to see the end of this war that you speak of.”

It was hard to make out, but the Tarmian, Kara, was turning red faced. Viper could see his hand twitching, just itching to draw the cutlass at his side. He turned to his crew, who seemed to be enjoying their drinks, but in reality, Viper noticed, kept stealing glances their captain's way. “You can kill me here,” the Empire captain hissed, “But you won't come out of it unscathed. Even if you do live, Eurale is fini—”

The Lacerta lookalike wagged a finger in the air, smiling with menace. He pointed at the band of ten mercenaries that had come in. One of Dhorjun's crew plopped down a clinking bag before them. “Now we have you outnumbered. Your hired guards against our soldiers? Maybe even. Against those mercs too? Well, all of this was assuming Captain Dhorjun wouldn't fight. Which he most certainly would.”

Viper glanced again at the spiked cudgel, feeling that fried fish snack come up to his throat as he imagined the nauseating state of a person struck with such a brutal weapon.

“But that isn't quite what I meant by the smaller picture,” the bald man continued. “You recall those two boxes of shase you brought into Ostirin…”

Viper clenched his teeth. Both his hands curled around the hilts of his father's black swords tied to his back. Kill an evil man. Do a moral act

…But what if he has a family? A child?

That horrid night returned to the forefront of his memories. That night he'd taken a child away from their parents. The question of why upon the child's expression. Assassination was cold blooded murder. Assassination was immoral. Viper had killed soldiers in self-defence. He'd killed Lacerta in a fit of rage. But he hadn't assassinated anyone since killing a child.

I am a weapon, and a weapon has no need for emotions… Friend or not, he was Aarondel's weapon still. It was that simple. If the prince ordered him to kill, he would. He needed to return. Him being here was not an act of Viper the weapon. It was an act of Vi'An Perza. The act of an immature child still caught up in a storm of emotions, still clinging to a past forever lost. I cannot be Eldari…

“What of it?” Kara demanded. “That was done and dusted a long time ago. It brought enforcer investigations on my back, not money!”

“And there were a few business associates disappointed in the investment they'd made trying to sneak the narcotic crates past inspection checks in both Katur and Ostirin, or so I heard when last we sold drinks at Ostirin,” the bald man was saying. “Associates that wouldn't mind throwing one of their own to the sharks while getting a return on those investments from your properties. I hear the investigation on how shase was brought in has yet to reach a satisfactory conclusion.”

Captain Kara snarled. He gripped the hilt of his cutlass but never drew it, stomping off instead.

“The ship, Kara,” Dhorjun bellowed from the bar counter, sipping from the Tarmian's flagon now.

“To the Ashes with you!” the Empire merchant said without turning. He gestured to his crew to get up. The tavern had gone silent. The mercenary band seated close to the doors shuffled, hands free of their drinks and flexing near their knives and swords.

Just leave, Viper told himself. Everyone was a part of this. He'd come seeking one culprit but found many. But the main culprit, Captain Kara, was right there. It was him that had brought the drugs. Viper grit his teeth. He drew a single blade. One last offering to the pitiful child named Vi'An before that ego was buried for good. This kill, this assassination, would be his transition from person to weapon.

***

“I can barely hear anything from this corner,” Eksa complained. She'd caught something about Dhorjun trying to purchase the caravel moored at the docks. She wanted to know the details. Wanted to know if the deal went through. Her heart had been pounding when Aki and she had sat down. She poured an amber drink into her own flagon and took a sip, eyeing her captain and Crow conversing with the Empire merchant. The man appeared frustrated.

Please, oh please go well!

Eksa could just imagine gripping the helm of that beautiful new ship. Aki suddenly put a hand beneath Eksa's armpit and hauled her out of her seat, her drink spilling from her mouth as she let out a yelp. Droplets fell to her new pair of black boots. It hurt to see that almost as much as it'd hurt to lose that final stick of fish. “What's the—”

“We're leaving,” the barkeep declared, expression stern. “This place stinks of violence and you'll not want to be here when it happens.”

“What? Did the deal not go through then?” Eksa asked, frowning. She glanced at the front counter again to see the Tarmian stomp away. My ship! She knew Dhorjun was a bad hand at negotiation. She just knew it. But the other one, Crow, she expected at least he would have more tact. But he'd been the last to speak. It was after his words that the Tarmian ship captain had walked away.

A group of roughly dressed men near the entrance followed Eksa with their eyes as Aki dragged her to the door. Eksa tugged against the barkeep's strong grip. Perhaps she could turn things around. Make a worthy offer that would be accepted. What do I have to give though?

The Tarmian ship captain seemed to trip over his own feet as he approached the tables where his own crew of a few dozen were seated. Not a curse escaped his mouth. He lay face down completely still. Eksa thought she saw blood pooling near his neck just as she was hauled outside, sunlight giving a cruel greeting. Shouts ensued.

***

Task complete, Viper ran after the girl and the soldierly woman pulling her away, reaching their shadow just in time before they stepped out onto the bright open street.

***

No one else came out of The Virulence . Aaron had counted to a hundred. All was quiet on the docks. None but a few fishermen working on their own equipment and a few Tarmian guards aboard the other large vessel. No name was carved into that caravel. Or at least none that he could see. Aaron sprinted up the gangplank and boarded the black sailed ship. He skipped down below deck where shadows were abundant. “Viper, stand watch near the stairs. I'll look around the cabins and come back with a book to show you.”

The Shadow Walker didn't respond. Aaron assumed he was too excited to respond. Strange how something so simple could evoke such emotion. If this ship didn't have any ledgers, then it would surely have sea charts in the captain's quarters Viper could examine.

Aaron hurried down the dark corridor, heart racing. There was only one way off this ship. If the sailors returned, he and Viper would be stuck here. Well, Not Viper. The Shadow Walker could probably make it out if he wished.

A thick and flowery scent filled Aaron nostrils before he'd even reached the first cabin. Perfume? He tried the door and it swung open without a sound. The smell hit him with the strength of a forge hammer now, but it wasn't nauseating or headache inducing. It was pleasant, simply put. A woman's room no doubt. And one with elegant taste in scents. This was nothing like the cheap aromas found at the entrances of brothels.

The room was plain. A bolted bed, a small table, and a trunk with a shoddy lock beneath. A small cabin. No books or papers in visible sight. Was this the red haired girl's room? Maybe she was just a traveller paying fare?

A girl my age travelling alone? Unlikely .

Aaron turned to leave but his memories got the better of him. Leave no stone unturned chirped the words of some wise scholar among the Zz'tai. Memories bearing advice had started surfacing more often lately. No stone unturned… His eyes fell upon the trunk. Aaron felt heat in his face. A woman's trunk. No business of his. But the strength of the memory overpowered him. He wondered just what kind of person it belonged to, to have such strong feelings about personal philosophies.

“Bloody immoral philosophies when used in this context,” he grumbled as he knelt down and set to breaking the lock with a knife. Aarondel Zz'tai, abandoner of caretakers, killer of people, vagabond thief, too embarrassed to break into a woman's trunk. Flaming Ashes. Bloody Flaming Ashes.

The lock broke after the exertion of great effort. Aaron searched the hidden compartments first, finding exactly what he wanted. A journal or diary of sorts, and a map so pleasing to the eye that he stared at it for a good half minute. A masterpiece that screamed Estraean handicraft. So the girl was Estraean after all. Aaron could not read the map well, but ancient memory flooded in, slowly filling the holes in his thoughts with timeless knowledge.

Tap!

What?

Tap! Tap!

The sound of footsteps coming down the deck of the stairs. Was it Viper just fooling around? Or had something happened? Aaron tucked the journal into his coat and rolled the map, putting that away as well. He heard the sounds of clacking footsteps running along the floorboards of the corridor outside the cabin. Not Viper . The Shadow Walker would not make noise the kind brought by elevated heels.

***

Heart heavy, Eksa hummed to herself as she marched up the gangplank of The Virulence . She knew the deal had gone sour. There was a fight happening at the tavern. Aki had left to go back. The woman was a former soldier after all. Eksa prayed that Dhorjun would somehow still manage to purchase that beautiful vessel for her more so than she prayed for the safety of the barkeep.

She headed down below deck, feeling drained in this heat and just wanting to collapse on her bed. Preferably after a drink though. She paused half way down. The door to her cabin was open. Not again.

A frown settled on her face. She marched forward, hearing the rustling sounds of paper being folded haphazardly —or worse. Crumpled. Someone was still in her cabin. Eksa ran forward, teeth clenched. She paused in the doorway to catch that black haired boy tucking her map of this region into an inner pocket of his coat. Her trunk lay open, though her neatly folded clothes seemed untouched from what she could make out with a brief glance.

Thieving aside, Eksa was more angered by what'd happened to her map. He'd rolled it. A pristine sheet of paper ruined. Her artwork ruined. Enraged, she drew her cutlass. Something frigid touched Eksa's back then. The boy's eyes went wide as he looked past her. She was too angered to care and instead raised her hand to strike. Too angered until he opened his mouth that is.

“Don't kill her, Viper!” the boy cried.