Chương 35: 34 Assumed Victory

I pulled the rope tight, securing the helm in place. The bow rose, then dropped, the waves sharp but steady. Drained from controlling the ship through the storm, the clouds finally began to scatter and thin, casting a sheen of light grey overhead. I dug a knuckle into my forearm, working a knot that had formed there. A message notification popped up in my terminal. <<Naomi: The storm blocked your location, but Aunt Springweather just secured a lock. We're about half a day behind you.

>> Aunt Springweather was reputedly the most powerful pure User class in the World Archipelago—a living network hub. A fraction of her abilities involved locating and communicating with cousins through Paradise's encrypted networks. The Silver Zephyr was at my back. Tension bled from my shoulders as I let that sink in. Captain Thalendris, Elara, and her men—Naomi. <<Tony: Sounds good. I need to win over the crew still. >> I sent it, considered for a moment, then set a follow-up message.

<<Tony: How are the whispers? >> After Naomi confessed to hearing psionic whispers, the thought of her somewhere I couldn't see sat uneasily. I rubbed my hands, the skin sore from gripping the wheel. She was with Elara and Captain Thalendris. She'd be in good hands. Only they didn't know about the whispers. The message notification pinged. <<Naomi: Fine. >> That was it. I bit my tongue. It was too clipped. She was worried. So was I. Footsteps on the lower deck steps announced someone approaching.

Mordisco's head popped into view from the steps.

"Cap," he said, crossing over.

"We in the clear?"

"Do you have a glass?" The veteran Hobgoblin drew out a collapsing telescope. He made as if to use it, then hesitated before offering it to me. After a murmured word of appreciation, I lifted the spyglass. Distant waves jumped, magnified by the lens, and I swept the horizon.

"Well," I said, one eye closed tight.

"No Dreadmaw capital ship."

"Dreadmaw bilgerats," Mordisco growled.

"That's right," I said, still squinting through the optic.

"You're with the Chain Tide Fleet. That makes you competitors."

"Hardly," Mordisco said.

"We have discipline. They throw bodies at problems. There's no comparison." The steady crash of waves against the hull followed the ship's rise and fall. I handed the telescope over. He accepted it, peering through.

"I didn't think anyone could sail like that," he said, optic to his eye.

"Aggressive but effective." I rested a hand on my saber, glancing over the lower deck. A few of my convicts sat slumped against the bulwark, exhausted and damp. Mordisco lowered the spyglass.

"You saved Drogo. That's the kind of competence I can get behind."

"Yeah, well—" I shrugged. Mordisco's voice lowered, yellow-tan face souring.

"The boy, on the other hand. That was sloppy." I glanced back over at my crew, scattered on the lower deck. The cobra-headed Naga-kin watched me. Another Naga-kin, this one with the head and build of a python, sat at his side. My voice dropped to match his.

"That dog almost killed him."

"Yes," Mordisco agreed.

"It would have been sad. But you made me test the edge of our cover." I watched him, the air feeling suddenly warm. Another wave crashed, and the bow dipped.

"How is he?" Mordisco sighed and folded his arms.

"Neck got nicked. But he'll live."

"He's not supposed to be here," I muttered, folding my arms tightly.

"Yeah, well, he is," Mordisco shrugged.

"You gave the order to bring him aboard, remember. That was the right call."

"How about the woman?" I asked.

"They're all in the brig," Mordisco said.

"Bebi and Bianca, too. I made sure to be the one to capture them when we went below. Didn't want things to escalate."

"Five prisoners," I whispered.

"And two of them are real."

"Slaves," he reminded me.

"Don't forget your role." A pressure swelled behind my temples.

"Hey," he said.

"Keep your head on. We have a job to do. Don't that big conscience of yours distract you." I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"It's not my conscience. It's my job. I'm here to protect Paradisians, not kidnap them."

"And I'm here to infiltrate the Slavers Guild," Mordisco said, sharp Goblin teeth baring behind his lips.

"I thought we were on the same mission." I glared. Mercenaries. At least this trio was professional. I couldn't let myself forget they were still Goblins.

"We are," I assured him.

"I won't make the same mistake again." I scanned the deck, looking for Grey Ponytail. He must have slipped below.

"First step," I said.

"It's time to set some expectations." I gripped the rail overlooking the lower deck.

"Alright, men!" I barked.

"Assemble. We need to talk!" The men glanced up, only a few shuffling to their feet. I counted quickly. Only ten, I was missing about half.

"Needles!" I called. The Goblin's head popped from the lower hatch. His knife ears swung as his head pivoted my way.

"Tell the others to get up here!" He slipped back under, his muted voice screeching. We waited. A lot longer than I wanted. Laughter filtered up from below. The sound of cards slapping the table was followed by a bottle clinking. A rooster-headed Foul-kin came up, followed by a female Hobgoblin, her face twisted into a scowl. Needles reappeared.

"The others don't want to come!" he called back. A few of the men on the deck snorted, shifting away from me as they lost interest. My grip tightened on the rail, and I swore. This wasn't working. First impressions were important; they set a tone that was tex difficult to change after it was already set. I vaulted the rail, my left knee flaring as I landed.

"Make way!" I barked. I stomped down the steep ladder-steps, flipping my patch up as I descended into the lower deck. Covered, my left eye was already adjusted to the dark hold. Hammocks hung from low beams, and a handful of figures glanced my way from their card game on a low table.

"Alright, fleabags!" I hollered. I kicked the table, scattering cards and shattering bottles.

"All hands on deck, or do we need to bring out the lash?" A thin feykin jumped, my voice enough to spur him into motion. The card players bolted to their feet, outraged.

"No? Fine." I stepped to the nearest one, a short kobold, grey jumpsuit stripped and tied at the waist. I picked him up, his jagged shale-like skin digging into my palms. The kobold hissed, raking at my arms with chipped nails. I snarled, pitching the kobold up before slamming it back into the ground. It yelped as the air was knocked out of it. My pistol was out in a second.

"To the deck, dogs!" I hollered. The others shuffled, faces twisted and tight as they passed me. Beads of blood formed in a line on my forearm. The kobold hacked as it picked itself up. I kicked it, sending the creature to the wall.

"Teach you to scratch me," I mumbled before turning back to the steps. I paused, halfway up, turning to the kobold who clutched at his ribs.

"On the deck," I growled over my shoulder.

"Now." I flipped the patch back down and ascended. With my laggers on deck, the others finally picked themselves up, pressing in around me. The kobold crawled out of the hatch and limped in our direction.

"My name!" I barked, "Is Captain Anton. Congratulations, I saved you." They watched, most impassive, some irritated. Cobra Head's scales rose where an eyebrow would have been on a mammal.

"Why did I exercise such generosity?" I demanded. I didn't wait for an answer.

"Glad you asked. I have a job, and for that job, I need a crew, and that's you." I swept my arms, pistol still loose in my hand. The muzzle inadvertently flagged half of them, and they shied back. Stolen story; please report.

"We didn't ask to be saved," a voice called. My eyes found the speaker and hardened. Grey Ponytail.

"No," I said.

"But you agreed to it the moment you jumped through the hole in the wall. You validated that choice when you stepped onto my ship."

"Your ship?" Grey Ponytail shot back.

"Think you mean my ship. I stepped on board before you, and last I checked, it was stolen." A half-Orc and Ratkin exchanged excited grins at the challenge.

"Hmm," I said, projecting a mask of boredom.

"And I'm sure you're the one who arranged the paperwork confusion that got most of the crew off this ship? Or perhaps it was you who arranged the storm to get us out of there." A confused murmur rippled across the prisoners.

"That's right," I said.

"You think that storm just happened to arrive as we were trying to get away?" I shook my head.

"I have friends. Powerful friends." I shifted back to Grey Ponytail, brow raising in mock confusion.

"You didn't do either of those things? Then perhaps you blew the hole in the wall that set you free?" His face pinched tighter, and I started to worry it might get stuck that way.

"Maybe you're the one who faced off with an Uncle while the others crawled to safety?" I snorted.

"Claim that my ship belongs to you again, and I'll feed you to the sharks." The Dwarf with runic tattoos across his throat and knuckles nodded in agreement.

"Tough guy," Grey Ponytail sneered.

"Bet you wouldn't be so confident without that gun." There it was. Between my three Goblins and me, we could compel obedience so long as we were armed, but at some point, I needed to turn these cutthroats into a crew. I couldn't focus on making important decisions if every idle second was spent checking over my shoulder for a knife in the dark. The pistol slid smoothly back into the holster, and I worked the buckle.

"Fine," I said, leather slapping my wrist as I unfastened it.

"What's your name?"

"Bruno," he said, tipping his head back so he could stare down his nose at me. I held the sword belt to the side without looking, and Mordisco took it.

"Alright, Bruno," I said, cracking my neck.

"Why don't you show these lads why you deserve—" My vision flashed red, my head snapping back as I caught a fist to the nose—and I went down hard. A chorus of groans rippled through the spectators. The half-Orc laughed. Hot warmth crawled down my lip, and I blinked stars.

"Show him, Bruno!" A skinny, short young man sneered. A haymaker. He'd caught me with a cheap shot while I was still talking. Bruno stepped back, hands bobbing before him.

"Get up, boy! Time to learn respect."

"C'mon!" The half-Orc called, snickering.

"All that talk and you let him lick you like that." I sat up slowly, nearly twenty sets of eyes watching me on the ground. Snickering and laughing surrounded me. Half rolled their eyes and started stepping away uninterested. Control slipped away like an anchor cut free. My vision wavered, a chill making my hair stand on end. My patches, practically nonexistent, crawled with sudden heat. <<Passive Buff: Apex Pride: +1 Cunning(Cha)—trait: Assumed Victory>> I went numb, the laughter and jeers fading in my ears.

My finger went to my nose, coming back red. Bruno hadn't scored a hit; I'd allowed him to do it. That was the only thing that made any sort of sense.

"Don't want to get up?" Bruno asked.

"Maybe I should dump you off my ship."

"How did that feel?" I asked, resting my elbows on my knees, voice devoid of intonation. Bruno frowned, his bobbing fists dropping several inches.

"How does what feel?" The half-Orc's smile faltered. I rubbed the blood between thumb and forefinger, smearing it. Then I smeared it on the planks of my ship.

"Not being able to finish the job?" Bruno's lip curled, and he stepped forward, his leg drawing back, probably to kick my teeth in. I spun, free leg sweeping around and scything his foot out from under him. The onlookers roared as Bruno slammed into the planks, and I was on him in a second. My fist took him in the nose, and his head rapped against the deck. His eyes glazed, and he slumped, unconscious. The others went very silent. I glanced up." That is how you one-shot someone." The tattooed Dwarf laughed.

The buff blinked away, and the pain and rage hit me like a tide. My eyes went wide. What had just happened? For a moment, I truly believed I couldn't lose. It was like there was no future in which defeat was possible. What was that trait that came with Apex Pride? Assumed Victory—it didn't bring any protection, no buff, just arrogance. I scrambled to my feet, dragging my wrist under my nose and wincing at the sting.

Bruno stirred on the deck, eyes fluttering.

"Anyone else?" I asked. Cobra Head grinned.

"Jofred, you want to be captain, right?" A Derk-Feykin stepped forward, cold grey hands coming up as fists.

"Yeah, I'm thinking I do."

"Don't want to face me yourself?" I asked Cobra Head. He hummed, slitted eyes flickering as he took me in.

"No." The Derk-Feykin lunged, fist snapping forward. I danced back, palming the strike away. Jofred grinned, emerald Fey eyes gleaming as raven-black shadows coalesced around him, wavering like smoke. His form blurred, color fading from his skin as his shadow haze swallowed him. I flinched back. Derks could vanish like that without an arcane focus? The shadow moved towards me, formless, a faint outline blurring within. A trajectory path streaked through the air, and a hook took me in the ear.

I cursed, throwing a haymaker where I expected to make contact. My fist caught air, and I staggered. Pain bloomed across my ribs as a formless knee took me in the side. Leaping back, I pulled my arm up, catching a near-invisible strike on the shoulder. I snapped out a trio of jabs, seeking within the black haze. One made contact. Trajectory cones bloomed from invisible fists, and I slipped and weaved. A surprised grunt came from Jofred's shroud when his hits didn't land. I whipped around with a backhand.

My knuckles made contact, and the shadow jerked backward. He stepped out of the shade of the sail and into direct sunlight. Shadows fizzled away, and Jofred's shape materialized. He rubbed his jaw wearily. I motioned invitingly. His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing with concentration. I bounced on my toes. My focus sharpened every time they left the deck. The moment my boots touched wood again, Aerial Combatant blinked away.

"Well?" I demanded.

"What'll it be, Jofred?" His hands dropped to his sides, and he shook his head. He stepped back into the crowd, ceding his claim to my ship. I straightened, eyes darting from one to the other.

"Alright then. Who else?" No one stepped forward. I exhaled, breathing out my relief.

"Ukark," Cobra Head said. I glared at the Naga-kin, then my neck craned up as Ukark stepped forward. By far the most prominent crew member, the Minotaur snorted as his hooves clomped against the deck. His right horn ended halfway up, a jagged break telling of battles past.

"Ooh, boy." I scanned him with my terminal. <<Name: Ukark Shatterhorn>> <<Class: None>> <<Rank: Escaped Convict>> <<Lvl: None>> <<Total: Not synced to Ourabora>> <<Equivalent Level: Martial-8>> <<Stats: >> Might (STR) — 12 Will (WIS) — 04 Focus (INT) — 04 Resilience (CON) — 12 Grace (DEX) — 06 Cunning (CHA) — 04 I swallowed. This brute was a full equivalent level above me, probably just by sheer virtue of his size. Ukark stamped a hoof and grunted.

"This is ridiculous," Mordisco said from the sidelines.

"Is it?" Cobra Head asked.

"Let's get a measure of our new captain." To his side, Python Head snickered.

"I'm not fighting a brine Minotaur," I growled.

"What's next? You want me to wrestle Krathic-thar? Is Jorg big enough for you?" Cobra Head chuckled.

"Not fighting a Minotaur, are you? That's a shame. Because he's fighting you." The Naga-kin jerked his head, and the Minotaur started forward. Hoofs clomped against wood. His horn and jagged stump leveled. His trajectory cone lengthened as he picked up speed. Several convicts scattered, not wanting to be anywhere near the stampeding brute. Bobbing on my toes, I held my ground.

"Tex, tex, tex—" I cursed, adrenaline buzzing in my blood. Thump, thump, thump! The horned mountain bellowed as he lowered his head. At the last second, I dove, rolling to the side. His mitt shot out, arm snagging me around the midsection. My eyes barely had time to widen before I found myself ripped upward. I yelped, and Ukark slammed me back into the planks. Air burst from my lungs, pain flaring across my back. I tried to breathe, but nothing came. Ukark raised a meaty fist, and I rolled.

Knuckles cracked down on the planks, and I twisted up to one knee. I uppercut, snapping a fist under the Minotaur's chin. His head snapped up, then slowly, he leveled his gaze back at me, nonplussed. My lungs remembered how to work, and I drew in a desperate breath. Ukark lunged, dropping his single horn for my abdomen. I caught the horn and nub, groaning as my boots slid back across the boards. Ukark beat me in size and strength, but he had given me control of his neck, and that was leverage.

I stomped a foot and planted it behind me. I bellowed, then twisted. My body, shoulders, core, and back strained. My boot slid towards the quarterdeck, but slowly Ukark's bull head started to twist up. My arms shook, hands tight on the horns, my legs cramping. I grunted. Ukark's hooves slid and scraped as I torqued his neck and rolled his head to the side. We both flipped, slamming down onto our backs. A groan echoed from the crew, a few even cheering. Ukark and I scrambled to our feet, turning to face each other.

His pitch-black eyes glittered with excitement, and his hoof pawed the deck twice. I panted, arms and legs shaking.

"Let's go, Captain Anton!" The tattooed Dwarf called. I bit down hard, panting and shaking stars from my vision. Rolling the beast had taken everything out of me. All I could hope to manage was evasion until he inevitably caught and impaled me.

"I yield!" I called. Ukark either didn't hear me or didn't care. He barreled towards me. I tried to jump aside, but he bucked his head. I twisted, narrowly missing the horn, but the jagged stump caught me, hurling me against the mast. My head rapped against the mast and the world flashed. Murmured voices tugged me back from unconsciousness, and I blinked, my vision blurred. What? I shook my head. The crew surrounded me, looking.

"He's awake," the Dwarf said. Ukark flicked his head with what I could have sworn was a relieved snort.

"I—ugh," I pressed a palm to my brow, fighting a headache. The tattooed Dwarf crouched beside me.

"Well, well. Looks like Ukark beat you." I inhaled. This was bad; my little publicity stunt had backfired.

"Thing is," the Dwarf said.

"I don't think he actually wants to be Captain." I grimaced as I glanced at Ukark, who was nodding in agreement.

"Captain fight good," he grunted. I lowered my hand.

"Captain?"

"That's right," the Dwarf said.

"We took a vote while you were out. It was close, but—" he offered a hand.

"Congratulations, Captain." I took his hand, and he hauled me to my feet.

"But—I lost," I said. The Dwarf shrugged.

"Against a Minotaur. No one else could have done any better. Tex, no one else would have lasted five seconds." I tried to keep my face neutral, to hide my overwhelming relief.

"It's more than that," the Dwarf continued.

"Sure, you're young, but you're the one with a plan, and you're brine scary behind the helm. Do right by us, and we won't vote you out." Democratically elected. That wasn't something I'd expected.

"What's the job, Captain?" the Dwarf asked.

"Piracy?" I sought Jaser out of the crowd, my insider into the Slavers' Guild.

"No, we're going to load this ship with labor, and then we're going to deliver it to the Blood Wake." My mouth clamped shut, the next words heavy on my tongue.

"We're going to become slavers." <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 01: 02: 14: 32: 03>>