Alinyaln leapt from the railing of the Mercy to the deck of the merchant vessel. He loved the feeling of the air blowing against his face as he did so. He landed hard, pain flaring in one of his ankles, but he made sure to stand up straight as to not show his error. Pulling out one of his two pistols, he held it up in the air and addressed the merchant’s crew; “Is your Captain a good man?”
The look of confusion that crossed their faces was one that Alinyaln had seen countless times in his life. Very few privateers even bothered to ask the traditional questions anymore, likely thinking they weren’t necessary. Alinyaln disagreed with this idea. Except for a mutiny, there was no real way to find a better Captain on a different vessel, other than leaving their service entirely, but then that lead to a potential loss of income, something that many sailors couldn’t afford to lose.
The five men kneeling all looked at each other, considering the question.
“He’s alright.” The one on the far left said, his voice higher than his bulky stature would have suggested.
“Yeah, he treats us good.”
“Sure ‘nuff.”
Two of the sailors remained quiet, these two had yellowed bruises on their faces. “What do you to have to say about your Captain?” Alinyaln prodded, kneeling down to be closer to face level with them.
The younger of the two, in his middle teens it appeared, watched the Captain out of the corner of his eye. “He beats us if we don’t set off on time.” The lad said quietly. The other sailor, an older man who appeared to have muscular issues, nodded his head in agreement.
“Ye little bastard, you’re lucky that’s all you get!” The Captain roared at the boy.
Alinyaln nodded then stood up. He walked over to the Captain and pointed his gun at the man’s head. “And who would speak up if I ended your life right here?”
The man grew pale. “You wouldn’t do that, you—your kind don’t kill merchant sailors.”
“There’s always room for some… trimming.” And he pulled the trigger, the man screaming in fear as the gun went off a short distance away from the man’s head.
And as it was a noisemaker—packed with a small quantity of flashpowder with no bullet-- nothing actually happened to the man. Soot covered some of his face and stained his pristine hat with the gilded frills, but the man was unharmed due to the distance and the lack of gunpowder. The Captain looked around, then down at himself. “I’m… Alive?”
“For now.” Alinyaln pulled a knife out of his harness and proceeded to cut the bonds on the crew. “He’s all yours.”
Boarding the Mercy, Alinyaln ordered; “Yishks! Weigh anchor and draw the planks!”
The Yishks, eleven of them in total, ran to follow his orders. The planks were drawn and tied to the side rails of the deck, the anchor on the side of the ship was brought up with a winch that two Yishks could pull. “Drags, make some space for us, if you will.” Alinyaln commanded. “Ninia, drop the sail.”
Drags huffed, black smoke protruding from his scaled nostrils. As the sail was lowered, Ninia pulling up on a rope placed at the mast, the Mercy of Dradinoor slowly pulled away from the merchant vessel. Alinyaln was able to catch a glimpse of the Captain of the ship being hauled into the hull of the small ship before they pulled too far away, Drags at the helm of the ship navigating.
While on the smaller side as far as sea vessels went, the Mercy of Dradinoor was capable of supporting thirty or so crew members, though Alinyaln didn’t employ nearly so many people, the single mast of the ship protruded up to the sky. The sail, deep blue fabric puffing in the wind, pulled the ship along slowly. Alinyaln appreciated the need for fewer sails and ropes with the newer mast designs, but there was something nostalgic about the way fully rigged ships looked.
The Mercy had two decks, one main deck and one poop deck, underneath which sat his personal quarters. The entrance to the belowdecks was placed just before the mast, the opening wide enough to not hit your head going down so long as you weren’t a Dragonkin.
In the middle of the main deck, Kiara had come back up and was marking down inventory counts on a clipboard as she stood alongside a decently sized pile of plunder, a dozen crates and half a dozen barrels of rum. Even if the chest that had been sunk was little more than a diversion, it was still a profitable venture.
“First Mate Kiara.” Alinyaln addressed the woman, walking up to her. “Report.”
“Two crates of grain,” Kiara said businesslike, looking down at a clipboard with a list attached to it. “Four crates of dried fish,” she shuddered at that. “Six crates of Arsin wood, looks like cooking woods. And six barrels of post collapse Retnish rum.” She finished. “Oh, and a crate of what looks to be Pre-Collapse rum, but the markings are worn on the box.”
“Post collapse, eh?” Alinyaln said with a nod. “I won’t regret Shifting it then. Keep these barrels separate from the other stock if you will, Kiara, selling these won’t do much good.”
Kiara saluted sharply. “Aye, Captain!”
“And make sure Phinny doesn’t notice, of course.” The Captain added. “Lass!” He shouted, not knowing where Ninia had gone.
“Sir!” The girl said from behind.
Alinyaln turned to look at her. Little more than thirteen, she was tall for her age but thin, golden hair kept short around her shoulders. She hadn’t been fond of keeping her hair in a tail as was traditional aboard a privateer vessel, but Alinyaln himself wasn’t too fond of many of those traditions anyways.
“Follow me, lass.” Alinyaln ordered, then proceeded to walk down into the belly of the ship. The stairs creaked underfoot, the dark confines of the deck were mitigated by the use of grates in the deck and bulbs of captive lightning placed in specific intervals. The first deck was the sleeping quarters for the main crew members, the Yishks and those who had no specific titles like Ninia. Hammocks swayed at the Mercy sailed along, Drags knew they had no specific destination in mind, so he would slowly start sailing in the direction of Loshbor.
The second deck housed the cannons and cargo, the cargo staged at the stern of the ship in a separate reinforced area. The handful of cannons on the port side were cooling still from the attack on the merchant vessel, these cannons were meant for surface shots and not causing serious damage.
Even further into the bowels of the ship was the hold. The Mercy, before Alinyaln had purchased it, had been equipped with a holding cell for either prisoners or insubordinate crew members. In a strange contrast, a large pantry had been built next to the cell, as well as a stove. Space had been reserved however for a large table to sit, one that could be used for meetings, surgery, or basic dining for the crew members. The chairs were against the hull of the ship now, stacked neatly and affixed to the wall as to not allow them to move. The table was bolted to the flooring, atop which sat the chest that they had recovered.
“Captain, I had an idea about what might be in the chest.” Ninia said as they approached the table.
“Yes, lass?”
“It was a merchant ship, right? What if they only sank a transcript of their goods, or maybe their finances? If the chest is watertight too, that means they were intending to go back to retrieve them once the danger passed.”
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Alinyaln rubbed his bare chin, thinking. He walked around the chest, inspecting parts of it. “So, in your mind, they thought that we were a policing force? Come to requisition their goods?”
Ninia nodded, giving him a small smile. It had taken a lot for her to bring this up, Alinyaln figured.
“I think that’s a great theory, lass. They probably wouldn’t have seen our colors until after they had sunk the chest. Good thinking.” Captain Alinyaln said, giving her an appreciative nod. He leaned forward and inspected the keyhole. “Higlim!” He called.
“Ayo, Captain!” A voice called from one of the adjoining cabins. In a moment, a portly man with weathered skin and a sizeable limp appeared in the doorway. He limped to Alinyaln and saluted, his arthritic hand unable to make a full fist for a proper salute. “And wee Nilna, how is the lass today?” Higlim asked with a nod of his head and a wink. He had a slurring accent similar to those from Retin, overemphasizing certain sounds of his speech.
Ninia’s face turned red and she crossed her arms. “Hey, Higlim.”
“Oh, you don’t have anything to say to me, Ginia?” The cook asked, shaking his head in feigned disapproval. “Now now, not in front of the Captain! Perhaps as an apology, you could—”
“Shut it!” A voice called from the food storage hold. A tall figure came lumbering out of the hold and glared at the gathered group. “Howsa man supposed ta get any sleep ‘round ‘ere?” Timphiny, the ship’s drunk, asked. He had dark red hair that draped down to his shoulders and several weeks’ worth of growth on his face. His eyes, bloodshot as they were, were keen.
“Sorry, Phinny!” Higlim said with the same joyous attitude he approached Ninia with. “Would you like another drink? So long as our dear Captain here approves!”
Alinyaln sighed. “How much have you had from your stipend so far today, Timphinny?” He asked the man. Unlike the rest of the crew, Timphinny wasn’t paid through traditional means, nor was he an indentured servant. The drunk worked for booze. Well, if you could call it “work” at any rate. Alinyaln wasn’t sure that he had ever seen Timphinny do much more than swab the upper deck.
His eyes bulged at the question, then he squeezed them shut. “’Bout half a bottle?”
“Slow day for you, Phinny!” Higlim laughed riotously, slapping the drunk on the back.
“Ask First Mate Kiara about getting another bottle, Timphinny.” Alinyaln ordered. “On my order. If she questions it, tell her that I dove for the chest from the merchant ship, that way she has some sort of verification.”
A smile broke on Timphinny’s face. “Ayup, Captain!” And he gave a lazy salute.
Timphinny walked past trailing a disgusting odor behind him. “Phinny!” Alinyaln called to the man. “When’s the last time you bathed?”
The drunk turned around and cocked his head. He seemed to be remarkably sober now compared to when he had first woken up. “Two, three weeks?”
“You smell that bad even when you haven’t been working?” Ninia asked, covering her nose and breathing through her mouth. “How is that even possible?”
Higlim grabbed a small bar of soap and tossed it to Timphinny. “Ayo, Phinny, see that Yisks bring up a bucket of water for you?”
“No,” Alinyaln shook his head. “I don’t want your filth staining the deck. Have them lower you into the sea, scrub down there.”
A solemn look crossed Timphinny’s face. “Aye, Captain,” he said, slinking away despite his previous joy. The expression on Higlim’s face, however, seemed overjoyed. The cook was a glutton for the punishments of others, so long as they never got hurt of course.
“Is there anything you can do about this chest, Higlim?” Alinyaln asked, bringing the man’s attention back to the situation.
“Chest?” Higlim said, looking over at the chest in question. “Ah, chest! Yes, Yishks brought it down not too long ago. He peered into the keyhole for a heartbeat and then nodded. “Yes, yes, I have just the thing.” He hobbled back into his quarters then came back with a small wooden box full of randomly shaped pieces of metal. With a dexterity that was surprising given the joint pains the man suffered from, he swiped a specific piece out of the box and slid the thin end of it into the chest. Some tilting and adjusting and then a twist and the top of the chest jolted upward slightly, unlocked.
“Well done, Higlim.” Alinyaln said to the man, clapping him on the shoulder.
“It’s a pleasure to be at your service, my dear Captain.” Higlim bowed dramatically, earning a snort from Ninia.
“I could do that.” Ninia gloated, crossing her arms. “It didn’t seem too difficult.”
“Higlim can show you sometime.” Alinyaln suggested. He gripped the top of the chest and took in a deep breath. He lifted the lid and let it fall back on the built in chain set on either side.
“Clothes?” Ninia broke the silence, even Higlim had been still for the event.
Alinyaln pulled out the garments and inspected them. Dry, despite the keyhole set into the chest, and not worn out which meant they were reasonably new. In Alinyaln’s hand was a woman’s shift, the fabric soft against his fingers. He tossed it to the side and pulled out the next piece, a corset. The next, a man’s jacket. Over a dozen various pieces of clothing were stashed inside of this chest.
With each one, Alinyaln felt his heart sink further and further. He hadn’t told Higlim or Ninia, but this was meant to be his next big clue in discovering where Tyrnarm was hiding. Tyrnarm, the man who betrayed Alinyaln and killed his previous crew. Tyrnarm, who had once been Alinyaln’s very best friend.
“Gah!” Alinyaln sneered, slamming the lid of the chest down. Not satisfying his frustration, he then slammed it off of the table, it colliding with the hull of the ship with a thud. “Manuan’s own backside.” He swore. Then, in order to show the chest who was boss, he stomped over to it and kicked it. Of course he regretted this lapse in judgement, as the pain that erupted from his toe was palpable.
He groaned in pain and then slumped onto the ground. Higlim handed him a steaming mug of tea, which Alinyaln waved away.
“Captain?”
Alinyaln looked up at Ninia, who was wide eyed in shock. She had never seen Alinyaln act like this, he was normally better at buttoning up his emotions. “Sorry you had to see that, lass.” He said, shaking his head. “That was… Uncalled for.”
Ninia didn’t respond, but she did turn away from him and inspected the clothing that he had grabbed out of the chest. There were more garments in the box, but he didn’t want to look in there any longer.
A sigh escaped his lips and Alinyaln stood, brushing himself off. His hands were shaking from his outburst. “I think I will go to my cabin, Higlim. Please bring me supper when it’s ready.”
“Aye, Captain.” Higlim said with a bow.
“Captain?” Ninia asked again, but this time there was urgency in her voice.
“What is it, lass?”
“Blood!” She said loudly, probably due to her surprise at this reaction.
Alinyaln tilted his head to the side then looked down at his foot, wondering if he had caused more severe damage to himself than he had thought. But then, Ninia turned over the gown in her hands and upon it was a large bloodstain covering the wrists. As if their owners had been in shackles.
“Well now,” Alinyaln said, grabbing the gown from the girl. “This is a find.” Suddenly his foul mood felt unwarranted. “That merchant was carrying slaves!” Then he scowled. Slavery was common throughout the six continents, though as time has gone on the practice was becoming rare. Alinyaln himself had never liked the idea of slaves, men and women in bondage against their wills. At least with Yishks, it was voluntary.
“Where might they have gone, Captain?” Higlim asked seriously, inspecting the stains for himself.
“They were coming from Rythmar, weren’t they?” Ninia asked, her brow furrowed. “That’s the direction they were coming from, I think.”
Footsteps sounded from the stairway and Kiara appeared. “Captain, Timphinny has asked to allow the Yishks to douse him in the ocean at your behest. I just wanted to make sure that was a legitimate order.”
“Aye, Kiara, you smelled him, I’m sure.” Alinyaln said with a sigh. “Come over here, if you will, we need some input.”
Kiara raised an eyebrow but approached the table. “You took that dive for some fancy clothing, Captain?”
Alinyaln nodded. “It is fancy clothing, isn’t it?” He rubbed the fabric between his fingers. Maybe the captives weren’t slaves then? Nobles. Maybe both? He saw some more ratty clothes in the chest as well. “Did you discover anything from that merchant vessel about their previous destination?”
“The last record was Rythmar, Captain.” Kiara said promptly. “It didn’t specify where, however.”
“If I may, Captain?” Higlim interjected. “Irminthin is one of the highest importers of slaves in the world, not quite in Rythmar’s or Mikklid’s waters. Policing there is minimal, to say the least. Might we start there?”
Alinyaln inspected the cook. Why would he know so much about the slave trade? He was an old sailor and had likely been on the seas for decades before Alinyaln had even been born, surely there were things he had picked up over the years.
“Irminthin it is.” Captain Alinyaln decided, dropping the gown into the chest.
