Chương 43: 42 Purpose Without Fanaticism

My hand flexed, the feel of the whip still imprinted in my palm as if it had been a brand. Bebi—he'd wanted me to do it, offered me a lifeline, one I had to take, but wished there could have been another way.

"Are you listening, my boy?" Thaddius asked, cigar smoke trailing his head like a tail. I blinked, forcing my hand back down by my side.

"Sorry," I said, rubbing my eyes. My exhaustion hit in the afternoon sun. I needed sleep, and soon. Two drifters passed, each carrying an armful of planks, shuttling them from one end of the settlement to the other and shifting Drift Port away from the tide. One nodded to Thaddius as he passed. Harpoons and long knives hung from harnesses on bodies completely bound in wrappings.

"What are they?" I asked, glancing after the Drifters as they continued along the decking.

"A reclusive people," Thaddius grunted.

"Reef folk, some call them. Others name them Coral-kin."

"Reclusive?" I said, scanning the dock town. My assessment had been wrong; of the ships I had assumed were pirates, most were Thaddius' men. It was as if he were the magistrate of the port.

"They seem to respect you," I said.

"The natives and I have an understanding," he said.

"My people provide additional security, bring wealth, and show the appropriate respect to our hosts, and they offer a home for me and mine." He nodded to a pair of Orcs who scampered to stay out of his path.

"So," I said.

"What now?" The half-Ogre's jowls tightened as he shot me a sidelong glance.

"I want to meet with your sister. I think this might be the beginning of a very lucrative relationship."

"Easy enough," I said, voice thin. I saw Bebi's back, stripped and bleeding. I cleared my throat.

"She'll arrive here in a day. We just need to stand by."

"Unfortunately, we won't be here when she arrives," Thaddius said through the cigar clamped between his teeth.

"We have work to do." The hair on my neck prickled—the job—our primary objective. To find out what they were working on.

"We?" I asked.

"That's right, Anton. You see, your ship is the missing piece to a time-sensitive operation. It would seem your timing is a stroke of fortune."

"You need my ship?" I asked, confused.

"What if I hadn't come when I did?" He shrugged, his suit coat pinched at his shoulders.

"I'd have hired some extra help. But your Scorched gunship—that'll do better than an Orcish Bloodfang skiff."

"So," I said, forcing my hand to relax. I hadn't realized it had curled into another tight fist.

"Where are we going?" The slaver stopped in the center of a dock bridge junction and pivoted towards me.

"Prime Rock."

"Okay," I said, the back of my hand itching, "What's waiting for us there?"

"A shipment," he said simply.

"A bulk order." Two men walking towards the junction hit an about-face when they spotted Thaddius.

"My hold's empty," I said.

"Get me the chains, and I can help you move the cargo." Cargo? Living people. A twist of nauseating disgust churned in my gut. Only—it wasn't directed at the guild, but at myself. The laughter of the slavers as they dragged my friends' broken forms away rang in my head. I slapped my ear, banishing the memory with a sharp sting. Thaddius tilted his head in confusion.

"It was a fly," I rasped, forcing my head back into the moment. My ear rang.

"I don't need you for your hold, Anton," Thaddius continued.

"I need you for your guns. The Ophidian Empire is expecting me. They've positioned a blockade."

"The Nagas have a blockade?" I echoed, my surprise finally piercing the numb fog in my mind.

"And you want my guns?"

"That's right," the Ogre grinned, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"We're going to punch through. Sink every one of the snakes if we have to."

"But," I shook my head.

"How? An imperial blockade?" Thaddius lifted his hand, examining his manicured fingernails.

"The Naga think far too highly of themselves. Empire—please? They may be the strongest tribe on Prime Rock, but that's all they are."

"And we're just slavers," I said. His smile deepened into something dangerous, and he pointed at the docks. I turned to the masts, sticking up like a thicket. There had to be at least fifteen ships, though a good ten of them were lightly armed cutters or sloops. The Ash Zephyr was on the larger end of the vessels in port.

"How many of those ships do you think belong to me?" Thaddius asked.

"I don't know," I shrugged.

"Ten," he said.

"We're not just slavers. We're the guild—Thornsong's legacy. We have a fleet. A light fleet, perhaps, but with your heavy brig, we'll leave an impression the Naga will never forget."

"I'm under-manned," I confessed.

"I'd be lucky if I could run a quarter of my guns while performing combat maneuvers."

"Bodies, I can supply," Thaddius assured me as he wiped sweat from his wide brow.

"Both to keep you manned and to ensure your cooperation." I gave him a tired look.

"What?" he asked, his smile practically a leer.

"Didn't think I'd take your word on blind faith, did you?" I shrugged.

"Doesn't matter to me. I'll take your men, babysitters or no."

"Good lad." He spat the cigar onto the planks, grinding it under his heel.

"Prepare your crew. We move in four hours."

"What?" I asked, startled.

"My men are exhausted. My hold isn't outfitted for sentient cargo."

"I'll have carpenters outfit your hold with chains," Thaddius said.

"Looks like it's up to you to get your crew spun up and ready." My shoulders sagged. Brine, it was hot. I needed a nap, but this was good. I was under scrutiny, a virtual hostage, but still, I crept closer to the objective.

"We'll be ready," I said.

"I knew I'd like you, Captain," Thaddius said, face once again a neutral mask.

"What's after Prime Rock?" I asked, trying to keep my voice passive. I didn't—the pinch in my voice betrayed my interest. The Ogre's brow constricted.

"I like loyal subordinates, Anton. What I can't tolerate, however, are curious ones." I shrugged, quickly backing off.

"All the same to me. So long as we can eventually strike an accord with my sister." Thaddius watched me for a long moment.

"Assemble your men, Captain. And welcome to the fleet." Just over an hour later, I stood on the quarterdeck, facing down most of my cranky crew. I was lucky; after working through the night, hunting down hungover sailors made killing the Titan Crab look easy. Fortunately, when searching for drunk sailors, there were only a few places you needed to look. I found many of them passed out in the Canvas Keg, and several others were even more inebriated at the two local brothels.

The Warriors of the Trident were the hardest to track down, but at the hint from one of Thaddius' men, I found them all in a gambling den, completely broke. Locating them had been the easy part; it was herding them that made me want to tear my hair out. I rubbed my eyes, glancing down at them. Most of them glared back. I couldn't blame them. The Snakes—Othess, Brace, and Jofred—stood segregated on the port side. The Kobolds grouped up next, grumpy to levels far beyond standard Kobold irritability.

Dustnose wrung his hands, refusing to make eye contact. Oh, right, I'd lost their stupid fork. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. The Draggers and the Crew mingled next, Sliplock standing at their head, Bruno snoring on the deck in the back. Finally, my Hammers lounged on the starboard side. Flast, Vurel, and Ukark shot dirty looks at the Snakes across the way. Great, one unified, happy crew, and I got to bear the good news.

"We're leaving," I announced. A rumble of groans rippled out from among them.

"We just got here!" Tomaso whined. The young human man was one of Bruno's closest friends, and the mantle of de facto Dragger leader fell to him when the older man passed out.

"We've linked up with the bigger enterprise," I called, raising my voice to drown out the complaints.

"We'll be moving in a fleet now."

"Why don't you just lock me back up?" Tomaso shouted.

"At least in prison I was allowed to sleep." I leaned over the handrail.

"One job. Until we finish this one job, you're mine." Othess' head tilted.

"I thought you were going to establish a new Guild? What happened? Did you roll over the moment the real players barked?" I winced. In fact, that was exactly what happened.

"Look," I called.

"We're just getting started. But the Guild has what would take us years to build—infrastructure, connections, networks."

"Time to sleep off a hangover?" Sliplock asked, rubbing his head. My jaw clenched. They didn't understand. We didn't have a choice; we were virtually hostages. Movement caught my eye. A mob of about forty men marched down the long deck towards me, a diverse group of Thaddius' men, many of them carrying long wooden boxes.

"Well, good news," I said, motioning.

"I got some more hands to share the load." My crew shuffled, drifting to the bulwark to examine the newcomers. Including myself, my goblins, and the Warriors of the Trident, I had just over thirty men. This crowd would drastically shift the power dynamic on my own ship. The figure in the lead stomped up the new gangplank, grinning as he stepped onto the deck.

"Well, boys, I'm back!" Jaser announced with his hands planted on his hips. The elation on the halfling's face showed he'd gotten his desired outcome. His Guild hadn't executed him for bringing us here. If anything, he had received a promotion.

"Bring them in, lads!" he called. I forced myself to exhale slowly as his men came aboard my ship uninvited. Slavers set down wooden crates, prying them open to expose dark steel chains within.

"Install them in the hold," Jaser ordered.

"Same layout as usual." His men got to work, completely ignoring my crew.

"Everyone, Jaser is going to be the liaison between the Guild and us," I announced from up on the quarterdeck.

"Manager," he corrected. My brows furrowed.

"What?"

"You all now work for me. I'll manage the affairs on this ship."

"You'll advise," I said, a genuine edge slipping into my words.

"And welcome aboard my ship." With the might of the Guild backing him, the halfling flashed an insufferably cocky smirk. My knuckles itched to rearrange his features. Jaser's toe dug into a pit in the wood, previously carved by the Titan Crab's claw.

"Captain Anton, if there's any confusion about the chain of command here, I'd be happy to involve upper management."

"That'll be unnecessary," I growled. My crew's posture had shifted, glancing from me to my new boss. Even Tomaso seemed to catch the power shift.

"Make ready," I called to my men.

"The fleet launches in three hours. Please see me in my quarters if you have anything for me. Dismissed." They listened, eyeing the newcomers warily as they set about their tasks.

"Othess, Brace!" I called. Both Naga-kins' heads shifted towards me.

"A word." Less than three minutes later, I was standing over my desk, both snakes standing across from me. Brace, the massive python, had to duck low to avoid hitting his head on a beam. Hammers reverberated through the timbers as Jaser's men installed chain bolts and converted my hold to carry prisoners.

"Captain," Othess hissed.

"I couldn't help but notice that the cargo is missing." My throat pinched, and I cleared my throat.

"Yes, they've been moved to another ship." Bianca, Ingred, our hostages—Bebi. My jaw worked soundlessly. They were now all out of reach. Somewhere, I couldn't protect them. They could be bleeding out in Thaddius' brig, and I wouldn't know. I shook my head, banishing the image. My party members weren't exactly helpless. If they were ever in any real danger, I hoped I'd know before it was too late.

"We're going to Prime Rock," I said.

"We're going to punch through an Ophidian Empire blockade." I shifted my gaze to Brace.

"You were former Ophidian Empire Navy, correct?"

"Aye," he hissed, serpentine jaw clamping tightly.

"Is our plan going to be a problem for you?" His slitted eyes leveled on me for a moment.

"If we fight someone I know, someone I care about, I claim the right to spare their life."

"If we can," I said.

"It's only fair." His grin sharpened into something with barbs.

"I had more enemies than friends. I claim the right to kill if we run into them."

"Deal." Brace nodded.

"Then there will be no problems."

"Good." I shifted towards Othess.

"What about you?"

"No issues," the cobra answered.

"If I were you, I'd be more concerned about Flast. If we're going to Prime Rock for slaves, it's his kind that will fill the holds."

"He's aware," I said, sinking into my seat.

"That's all. I'm glad we had this conversation now rather than later." The Naga-kin turned. Brace stepped out first. Othess hesitated on the threshold before stepping back and shutting the door.

"Was there something else?" I asked, hand flexing toward my pistol.

"Just one question," the Cobra said, tongue darting.

"What level are you?" Adrenaline spiked, and my hand found my pistol's handle under the desk.

"What level?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You have a terminal, don't you?" he asked, grey eyes glistening.

"It took me a while to put together, but it explains so much how you sail the way you do. That thing your eyes do when you think no one's watching. You're reading, aren't you? User." I cursed inwardly. What now? Shoot him here and maintain my cover?

"You have nothing to fear from me, so long as I don't need to be worried about you," he said as if he could hear my thoughts.

"In fact, I take comfort in the fact that you have Ourabora's blessing." He stroked his chin.

"Question is, which node gave you your abilities? Paradise's or the Bloodwakes? Are you a Cousin, or an Exploit?"

"I'm sure you're confused," I growled.

"But by all means, start rumors. It would only fuel my reputation." His serpentine head ticked to the side.

"No," he said.

"I think discretion's the move for now." He nodded once.

"Farewell, Captain." He slipped out, leaving my heart pounding like a war drum. I—should have killed him. While he was alone in my quarters, with no witnesses. Of all the members of my crew, Othess held the most leverage. Someone pounded on the door.

"What?" I snapped. Clod the Mean threw the door open, dragging in a considerably smaller Dustnose by his pointed ear.

"Trident Wielder!" Clod called.

"Dustnose speaks blasphemy."

"What?" I demanded. I had a psycho snake who knew who I was, I had no idea where my friends had been taken, and now Jaser's men outnumbered mine on my ship. I had no patience for Kobold shenanigans.

"Dustnose says you ate the Trident of Destiny!" The fat Kobold's eyes bulged as his gaze scanned my neck for the cord.

"I didn't eat it," I growled.

"I threw it out the window."

"What?" he shrieked.

"It was a fork. See the galley, they'll fix you with another one."

"The trident was an ancient artifact—" I lurched to my feet, shoving my table forward several inches.

"The fork didn't get these men past two Uncles, didn't outmaneuver a ship-of-the-line and the Paradise Coast guard. The fork didn't face down the Titan Crab—I did."

"But you used the trident's power—""Get out!" I snapped, pointing to the door.

"Get off my ship. If you were loyal to a piece of cutlery, I was never your leader!" Both Kobolds shrank back as I towered over them, almost three times their size. The patches on my jaw prickled intensely. My shoulders loosened, my voice coming out in a rasp.

"If you want to play pretend, play childish games, worship a utensil—my ship isn't the place for you." I looked up, meeting their gaze.

"If you want destiny, you don't need the trident. You need a purpose." Dustnose's eyes glazed over his head, nodding.

"No!" Clod snapped.

"That trident was what held the Warriors together. Without it, we are nothing."

"Fine," I said.

"Have fun being nothing. Bye." I shifted.

"Dustnose. How would you like to run a cannon?" His eyes grew as wide as dinner platters.

"Vurel says it's too dangerous."

"And I say I need warriors. Real warriors who want to make a difference. What do you say?"

"Wait!" Clod jumped in.

"You can't give him a cannon. He's just a boy!" I shifted to Clod.

"You're still here? I'm only interested in sailors who're willing to chase their own path. In fact, I have two bow chaser cannons. They're yours, Dustnose. How many of your comrades will help you man them?"

"I'll do it!" Dustnose exclaimed, eyes shimmering.

"You'll report directly to Vurel." I nodded.

"Now tell the others. By the time we launch, I don't want any Warriors of the Trident on my ship." I shrugged.

"I wouldn't say no to bow chaser gunners, though." Dustnose clicked his heels together and saluted with his hand backward.

"I'll tell the master gunner right away."

"Ah, Dustnose!" I cut in.

"Maybe send him to me first. It'd be best if I broke the news." He jerked a fresh salute before scampering away. Clod turned back to me, crusty face souring.

"Do you see what you've done? The fork wasn't just a myth. It was a symbol! A mark of authority to keep them in line."

"The fork?" My eyes widened.

"You knew!"

"Course I knew," he hissed.

"I made the tex thing. The legend as well. These past days, I've had to scrape and bow to you because you stole my scepter."

"You're—horrible," I said pointedly.

"I'm necessary. They're not gnomes, not Halflings or Feykin. We're Kobolds, and without control, chaos will follow." His grin sharpened into something cruel.

"And you just gave that chaos access to the powder magazine." I nodded slowly, acknowledging the logic.

"Then you're going to help me curb that chaos," I said.

"Not with lies and myths. But a true purpose." He watched me, golden eyes blinking slowly.

"Purpose without fanaticism is empty." He smiled, wedge teeth barred between his lips.

"I'll give you order, but when this backfires, remember it was your philosophy that failed, not mine."

"You're right," I leaned onto my palms.

"Then it would be on me." <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 00: 06: 10: 29: 11>>