The Defiant made it three steps across the common room before the door swung open to admit a harried former Priestess. “Eve!” Preston greeted her, “Where have you been? I have news.”
“I was… upstairs.” She resolved to tell him about her foggy visitor at some point, but the Caretaker looked at her with urgency. “What’s going on?”
“The mage’s college followed up with another offer. They’re gonna pay for Wes to sail down and interview at their headquarters.”
Eve scowled. “What about us?”
Preston held up a piece of parchment. “Passage for three adventurers and two animal companions.”
“Shit.” Eve’s eyes widened. She hadn’t even had to tell them about the tournament for travel arrangements to fall in her lap. “When do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning. Wes and Art are upstairs packing.”
“I bet he hasn’t shut up about it.”
Preston laughed. “And I’m sure he won’t until we get there. He has every right to be excited. They invited him to the fucking capital.”
Eve flashed a sly smile. “They invited us to the fucking capital.”
“A terrible mistake, really.”
“Oh, definitely.” Eve turned to head back upstairs to start her own packing. As she climbed, she called back over her shoulder. “Give me a few months, and Pyrindel won’t have a single gods-damned bakery left.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Schooner or Later
EVE HAD HER first doubts about the moral fiber of their transportation the moment she laid eyes upon the captain of Freedom’s Gale. Something about him was just off. Perhaps it was his ragged eye patch or wooden leg or the spattering of faded bloodstains that decorated his worn linen shirt. Probably the latter.
Wes was the first to climb the gangplank to the deck of the schooner, followed closely by Eve. It took some urging from Preston to coax Reginald up the narrow plank. The drake—now seven feet long from tail to tip—dug his claws into the wood with every step.
Art, small and light as he was, rode on Reginald’s back. The two had grown thick as thieves in their weeks together, no doubt in part due to their similarities in age, at least for now. From what Eve had seen, drakes grew up far faster than trellacs. They’d been lucky enough to find Art when Reginald was still young enough to be a good friend to the hatchling.
At times Eve wished she could be privy to the telepathic conversations they shared. At others, she was particularly happy she wasn’t. They had Art’s telepathy tutor to thank for that. The boy was far from perfect, but at least he’d learned to direct his thoughts to a single entity and limit how much his emotions leaked to those around him.
Eve didn’t need Art’s psychic powers to know something was off about the seaman before her. He didn’t greet them as the last of her party made it to the deck. His parrot did.
“Squawk, welcome aboard!” The bird flapped colorful wings from its perch atop the man’s shoulder.
“You must be Captain Abraham,” Wes greeted, extending an open hand. “That’s a cool trick with the parrot. How’d you train it to do that?”
The man scowled.
Preston, eyes flashing blue with the light of a screen, grimaced. “Um… Wes?”
The fire mage continued, “Oh, right, where are my manners?” He raised a hand to his forehead in the sloppiest yet most earnest attempt at a salute Eve had ever seen.
Preston put his head in his hand. “Not what I meant. He’s not the captain.”
Wes furrowed his brow. “Kind of rude for the captain not to greet us, isn’t it?”
Eve, despite having a twentieth of his Intelligence, was at least smart enough to Appraise their hosts before putting her foot in her mouth. Sure enough, the imposing sailor was no captain.
Level 28 First Mate
Uncommon Tier 3 Class
Given Preston’s reaction, she’d expected as much. Eve hadn’t, however, expected the parrot to be hit by her Appraise.
Level 39 Ship Captain
Rare Tier 3 Class
Preston sighed. “You know, for all your Int, you really are a dumbass. The parrot is the captain.”
“And I just asked how he trained it.” Wes paled, spinning back to apologize profusely.
“Squawk, don’t ye worry,” Captain Abraham replied. “Pete will show ye to your quarters.” His brief introduction complete, the bird took off, his vibrant wings carrying him high over the deck as he squawked orders to the crewmen below.
Wes gulped. “I pissed him off, didn’t I?”
“He told ye not to worry about it.” The one-legged First Mate spoke with a deeply gravelly voice punctuated by the stench of stale beer on his breath. “Ye weren’t the first and ye certainly won’t be the last to make that mistake.” He turned, gesturing towards the stairway belowdeck. “This way.”
As the party followed, Eve was the first to ask. “So how does a parrot become a Ship Captain?”
“Same way as anyone else,” Pete barked. “Cap’n Abraham was the best for the job, so the crew voted him to it.”
“Wait,” Wes asked, “if you voted for the captain, who owns the ship?”
“We all do,” Pete answered through a toothy grin. “Abraham owns a bit more since he’s cap’n. Same with Quartermaster Stel. But there ain’t a sailor about this ship that doesn’t have a stake in it.”
“Interesting,” Eve commented. “I thought most merchant ships were owned by a trading company.”
“Most are, aye,” Pete said, “but some prefer the freedom of independence. ‘Stead of wages, everyone gets a cut of the lo—” He shook his head. “The profits, that is.”
Eve and Preston shared a suspicious look. She had a pretty good idea what L-word he’d been about to say. Adventurers were all too familiar with the concept of loot.
“Here we are,” the First Mate pulled them from their thoughts as he stopped outside a row of doors. “Three cabins, as paid for. Split ‘em up as ye will.” He pointed down the dark hallway. “Meals be in the galley, bell’ll tell ye when they’re served. Ye be free to wander the deck as ye will; the crew will leave ye alone if ye don’t get in anyone’s way. Any questions?”
Eve had several, but only one seemed appropriate in the moment. “How long is the voyage to Pyrindel?”
“Oh, a couple days? Week or so? Could be less if the winds are kind.” Pete shrugged. “We’ll get there schooner or later.”
Eve froze. Preston’s eyes widened.
Wes exploded with laughter. “Schooner or later.” He doubled over, clutching his chest as he cackled. “That’s hilarious.”
The First Mate grinned. “Oh, just a bit o’ seaman humor.”
Eve rolled her eyes. “Believe me, traveling with these two I get more than enough semen humor.”
It was Wes’s turn to gape. “Eve! You can’t just—”
A sly smile crossed Eve’s face as she stepped past him into one of the cabins. If she had to put up with his puns, he and Preston could put up with a few dirty jokes at their expense. She turned back to wink at them as she shut the door behind her.
Eve took a few seconds to survey every inch of her new lodgings. There weren’t many of them. The cabin was about ten feet by eight feet, its limited floorspace almost entirely dominated by the simple cot that would be her bed for the coming days. The room’s only other features were a cracked mirror and a small angled table built into the wall.
It was hardly luxurious, but it sure as hells beat sleeping on the side of the road.
Eve deposited her pack under the cot, the rolls of griffin-hide still tied to it. A part of her wished they’d stayed in Ilvia long enough to commission a new set of armor with the valuable hide, just as the rest of her was ecstatic to be moving on. There would be leatherworkers in Pyrindel.
Belongings stowed, Eve sat on the bed to strip off her armor. There was no need for the defensive leathers aboard Freedom’s Gale. She’d only been wearing them in the first place because they didn’t fi
t in her bag.
Eve had just managed to lie back in her comfortable traveling pants and loose white cotton blouse when a knock sounded on her door. Begrudgingly, she stood to admit Wes and Preston to the tight space.
“We’re all agreed these guys are definitely pirates, right?” Wes started bluntly.
“I don’t know about definitely,” Eve replied. “Probably, though?”
“There’s a cannon in our room.” Preston said. “It was going to be Art and Reginald’s room until, you know, we found a fucking cannon in it.”
Eve took a moment to look disbelievingly around her own tiny cabin. “How did they fit a cannon in—”
“It’s bigger than this,” Wes explained, “but all the extra space is taken up by, uh, the cannon.”
“Okay, so they’re definitely pirates,” Eve accepted. “Or particularly well-armed merchants with battle wounds and bloodstains. Does it matter?”
“Does it what?” Preston balked. “Eve, of course it matters.”
“Why? You Appraised them. We’re way higher level than they are.”
“That won’t stop them from cutting our throats while we sleep,” the healer replied. “Something they’d most certainly do if they knew how much gold we’re carrying.”
“I don’t know.” Wes scratched the back of his head. “They seemed nice enough.”
“You just like them because Pete made a pun.”
“Heh,” Wes chuckled to himself, “schooner or later.”
“That’s beside the point,” Eve said. “They won’t mess with us if they’re scared of us, and they can’t pull anything while we sleep if one of us is always awake.”
Preston raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Feels like it would be easier to just find another ship.”
Eve shrugged. “Ilvia was boring enough I actually slept most nights. Doubt I could sleep on this trip if I wanted to. And the mage’s college paid for Freedom’s Gale. That’s gotta say something for how safe it is.”
“Unless it’s a test,” Preston replied. “To earn an interview you have to survive the pirates.”
Wes gulped.
“It’d be a perfect test, really.” Eve rubbed her chin. “Can’t just burn them all or you’ll sink the ship with us on it. You’d have to actually demonstrate control. But that’s only if they’re brave enough to come after us.”
“Well, I’m not exactly terrifying,” Preston argued, “and like you said, once we’re on the ocean Wes can’t do much without putting us all at risk, and as far as the pirates are concerned, you’re only an Emissary.”
“Sure, but I’m an Emissary who wears armor and carries a giant griffin-bone club and who fucking glows. Not to mention the whole ‘staying-awake-for-a-week-straight-without-even-getting-tired’ thing. We’ll be fine.”
As if to punctuate Eve’s point, the ship lurched beneath them, jerking into gentle motion. They were underway.
“Guess it’s too late to change ships now,” Preston muttered. “Pirates it is, then.”
Wes placed a hand on the Caretaker’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, they’re nice.”
Eve rolled her eyes, swinging open the door to leave the couple behind in her room. She didn’t wait for them to follow as she made her way back up the dark stairs into the blinding light of the morning sun.
She felt the wind first. It ran through her hair, ruffling the short chestnut strands as it delivered the autumn chill to her skin. She smiled.
As her eyes adjusted to the light of day, Eve crossed the busy deck to lean against the stern railing. She breathed. Fresh, cool air flowed to her from over the ambling river as she watched the docks, then the buildings, then finally the Great Crossing itself fade into the distance.
Eve mentally checked the merchant city of Ilvia off her list of grand sights to see. Wes and Preston joined her at the railing, looking on in silence as they once again left behind the safety of civilization for the danger of the unknown. Such was an adventurer’s lot.
All they needed was a destination in mind and some idea of how to get there, and Eve knew, pirates or otherwise, that they would make it to Pyrindel, schooner or later.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Taking in the Sights and Sounds
NOT ONCE IN the hours that passed since their departure from the docks of Ilvia did Eve budge from the rail. She watched with bright eyes as manicured orchards gave way to fields of golden grain and as eventually the farms grew fewer and further between, replaced by the untamed meadows of the Leshkian heartland.
Eve reveled in it.
She breathed in the cool autumn air, filling her nose and mind alike with visions of falling leaves, hot ciders, and cozy fires. Even the subtle scent of rotting mulch conjured images of home. The folks back in Nowherested would be preparing for the harvest festival right about then. No doubt Martha was near overwhelmed patching up everybody’s winter clothes before the first snows hit.
Eve smiled. She could practically hear her mother’s complaints about the repair jobs coming in earlier every year. Eve hoped she’d manage alright without her help.
Only when the sun had vanished completely beyond the horizon did Eve turn her gaze away from the distant riverbanks, their beauty masked in the shroud of night. Instead she directed her attention skyward, sitting up against the main mast as she looked up upon the stars. They too reminded her of home.
She’d spent too much time in cramped dungeons or beneath a canopy of trees or in a bright city or trapped in the oppressive mists of the Dead Fields. In those moments as she stared into the endless abyss and the countless stars like so many oases in a desert of infinite black, Eve vowed to herself that she’d never again take them for granted. As much as an open road sang of freedom, so too did an open sky.
The sailors gave the strange Emissary a wide berth as she went about her stargazing. The torchlit gloom of the deck at night made the glow of her eyes and neck all the more apparent as she alone illuminated the area around her.
She caught a few of the whispers, most attributing her high level to low requirements of Common classes, while those in the know remarked that without combat, it could take a lifetime to reach tier four. Most seemed to agree she was older than she appeared, a concept Eve found rather humorous. She certainly felt older than she’d been upon her departure from Nowherested but a few months prior.
As the night dragged on, Eve set her focus on a puzzle she’d long put off making a true attempt at solving. Step one was to reread the description of her newest skill.
Passive Ability - Defiant Mind
Wield the unmatched will of The Defiant. Your mind is your own. Gain immunity to fear, pacify, and loss of control effects. Gain increased reaction speed. Unlock access to the Fatetorn Gaze general skill.
For the umpteenth time since she’d set out on her adventure, Eve wished the Questing Stones had been kind enough to grant her with skill descriptions that were actually descriptive. Unlocked access or otherwise, she hadn’t a clue how to actually use Fatetorn Gaze. If it was anything like the other general skills she’d found—Mana Manipulation and Appraise—she had to actually use it before it would appear on her skill list.
She started with the obvious. Eve had plenty of experience reducing the Mana flow to her eyes to diminish their glow; doing the reverse was the clear first step.
She was prepared for her Mana pool to slowly drop as she sent the magical energy circulating through her eyes. She was ready for the flashes of light as she carefully strengthened the unsteady flow, her natural glow intensifying enough to illuminate half the deck.
Eve wasn’t expecting the world to sharpen.
Details dozens of feet away suddenly became as clear as if they were right in front of her. Every strand of thread in the rear sail, every splinter of wood, every drop of sweat on every sailor’s brow stood out to her. Eve blinked and the world returned to normal.
“Well that was… interesting,” she murmured. A quick glance confirmed she had no new messages, no skill adde
d to her growing list. Whatever that was, it wasn’t Fatetorn Gaze. She repeated the experiment, her gaze sharpening as she counted the threads of a coil of rope forty feet away.
At the back of her mind, Eve wondered if the pseudo-skill granted dark vision as well, not that it mattered. The act of using it made her glow bright enough that darkness wasn’t even a possibility.
Eve spent an hour or so playing around with her artificially enhanced sight before moving on to other senses. Sure enough, her hearing could be similarly boosted. She supposed it made sense. Her entire body ran on Mana, and she’d already had the ability to reinforce individual parts of it by channeling Mana there. It only followed that she could similarly reinforce her senses.
Eve only lamented she hadn’t discovered the possibility of enhanced hearing before the sailors had ceased their whispering. She knew eavesdropping was rude, but so was gossiping. That made it okay, right?
She had her opportunity but a few hours later, as the morning sun finally rose and the night crew disappeared into the hold to make way for the day crew. Eve was ready for them.
“Did she sleep up here?” one sailor asked of a yawning nightshifter as they exchanged posts.
“She was up all night… flickering,” came the reply. “Me and Tia’ve got a bet. She thinks the lass’s keeping watch for something and will trade places with one o’ her friends soon.”
“And you?”
The sailor leaned in, his whisper no match for Eve’s Mana-empowered hearing. “I think she ain’t human. You saw the beastmaster she’s with. She’s one o’ his monsters in disguise.”
Eve couldn’t keep herself from chuckling at that, drawing a few extra gazes from curious sailors. At least he’d got the ‘not human’ thing right. She laughed, sure as shit she wasn’t going to tell Preston someone had taken her for ‘one of his monsters.’
This Class is Bonkers! (This Trilogy is Broken (A Comedy Litrpg Adventure) Book 2) Page 14