Nocturna League- Season One Box Set

by Kell Inkston

  “Goodnight, sir,” she says.

  He nods in recognition as he closes the door behind him and makes his way down to the lower decks with the use of his special key. The weird lighting bends and warps down in the lower decks like hands around one’s throat as The Captain makes his way to room marked only with an array of dents having come from inside the room into the door, as if someone inside had tried to escape sometime past.

  He opens the door and locks it behind him. Inside, Colette is sitting bound in a chair, her head is perfectly fine, if for a few stitches. “Wake up,” The Captain says.

  She flinches awake, and the second she realizes her situation, jolts up alert. “…No,” Colette says.

  “I thought I might as well take the opportunity to separate you two. The aspect of The Black Eye is quite helpful for that considering it could tear Pertalaine and Beatrice apart. What better time than when she’s practically a corpse.”

  “I thought… This shouldn’t be possible.”

  The Captain pulls up his own chair across from the table with one hand as, with a magician-like motion, waves his other hand flippantly. “Well, surprise! The Black Eye worked exactly as I expected. If it could put the two of them at risk of separation, then certainly, it must also work on other dual souls.” He sits and folds his hands together professionally. “Now it’s just a matter of time, I suppose.”

  Colette’s gaze isn’t like the wild horse she was, there’s an over-pouring of wisdom on her features, almost a calmness. “You won’t get what you want, Victor. You’re playing a fool’s game.”

  “So it is Victor! I appreciate it so, Angelique. Or do you prefer one of your other names?” He looks over to a shelf with drinks. “Can I get you anything?”

  She smiles. “I wouldn’t dare touch your filth.”

  “Very well,” he responds. “I was only offering out of principle. I feel though you’ll be feeling the weight of that body fairly soon. Humans do poorly without food and water, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ll take my time. Any second I can buy will be worth it.”

  The Captain taps his finger about. “And why do you think that? You surely couldn’t be under the impression that your little “girl” could stop me.”

  She shakes her head. “You’ll stop yourself eventually, but by that point it could be too late. You need to think, Victor. Think!”

  “I am, Angelique, and what’s most thought of tonight is how you’re going to be telling me everything about The Last Island.”

  She draws back. “…It would have been my greatest hope that you didn’t know that name. You should forget it, like I told you last time. Do your job and one day die. You were not meant to live this long.”

  “I will go until I reach the point, Angelique. My men… your daughter… my body, my soul, it’s all an available means to an end. I will not back down, ever,” The Captain says. “Colette” is silent, but stares deeply into The Captain’s spectacles. He continues. “I’ll reach The Last Island. I won’t let them down.”

  “They’re dead, Victor! They’ve been dead for a thousand of years or more!”

  He draws back to his feet. “That’s where we diverge. You would have been the greatest I could have asked for, Angelique, but it seems you insist on doing things the hard way… I am quite older than you, and my bag of tricks goes down deeper than these oceans. You can either be on my side or await the day that your daughter looks upon you again, a senseless, mindless lunatic. I’m going to break you so thoroughly that you won’t even be able to compose the concept of agony in that narrow little mind of yours by the time I’m done with you. You’re going to be one of my gate souls, whether you like it or not.”

  Again, Angelique is silent, but stares at her captor with brave, daring eyes.

  “And how shall I treat your daughter’s body? I could integrate her back inside any time I wanted, you know. How do you want her? Broken legs, arms… paralyzed from the neck down? … Flayed nervous system?”

  Angelique takes a deep breath. “If she knew, she would… she would be willing. Do what you will.”

  The Captain steps to the door, reaches over to the shelf, and grasps a half-poured bottle of wine. “I have no intention of doing otherwise.” He raises the bottle in a mock toast just before flipping his grip to the stem of the bottle. “To our reunion, consider it my long-overdue gift for what you did those many years ago.”

  He throws the bottle with a spin directly into Angelique’s face, breaking the glass and scuttling her with cuts across the face as the alcohol accommodates her blood. She can only spit and gasp as he rounds the door and closes it shut.

  With a brush of the hands, he makes his way down the hall all the way to the engine room. He brushes his coat and opens the door with a dramatic style becoming of a man of his caliber.

  “Well,” the weird, familiar voice of Kotherrhre, the “engine” says, “if it isn’t our esteemed and successful captain. So I guess you’ve made your decision which one’s good for it?”

  The Captain nods. “I believe I have. Colette’s becoming less and less exceptional, I hate to say. Just a peek at that eldritch put her right out.”

  Kotherrhre gurgles in amusement. “I wasn’t quite sure what was going on that far away. That field Pertalaine put up kept fucking with my vision.”

  “Language,” The Captain says.

  “Right. What’s more, now that we have our little angel all split up we can really get to work.”

  The Captain leans against the railing overlooking the overwhelming darkness. “It will take some time. Last I got my hands on her I fully underestimated her. I’ll be ready this time, but even so she’ll be a hard one to break.”

  Kotherrhre laughs, producing a sound incapable of logical description. “You should let me handle her, Cap, I’d make her mew like a kitten faster than you could turn around.”

  The Captain sighs.

  “You know, I have a way with the ladies!” It adds.

  “We’re both talking about torture and interrogation, yes?”

  “Yeah, sure!”

  The Captain adjusts his glasses. “Somehow I doubt your sincerity. I have a feeling the second I turned around they’d be quite beyond saving.”

  Kotherrhre spits in shock. “Captain! You know me! I’m just here to help! When it comes to stabbing I’m way better than smelly ol’ Marcus!”

  “Well I imagine it would be in everyone’s best interest if you were to continue helping as the ship’s propulsion.”

  Kotherrhre sighs. “Yeah, fine. Ya’ big spoilsport… Also, did you notice?”

  The Captain looks down directly to where he knows Kotherrhre’s “face” is. “Notice what?”

  “Not so surprised considering your sand doesn’t work on them, but if you put like… I dunno, a glass lamp with your sand in it, you could probably see the deck better when people aren’t around.”

  “And risk it breaking and my grains spilling off deck? Madness. You do know what those are, don’t you?”

  Kotherrhre laughs. “Of course!”

  “And yet you don’t much care, do you? I suppose eldritch never really had to follow any rules in making sense… So, what’s going on without my knowing?”

  “Some degenerate shitstain, one of the Chaos minions, crawling around our ship doing recon.”

  “Language.”

  “Sure, anyway it’s definitely one of his sneakier ones. Marcus hasn’t even batted an eye at ‘em.”

  The Captain as he reaches into his pocket to check something. “Well, so long as the minion stays doing reconnaissance and nothing more then I feel we have little to fear.”

  “Just be careful, dude. If he of all people have taken notice of our little… operation, then it can only be bad news. He’s the last one we’d want on our bad side… with the ‘Ohkiij’ bee ess and all.”

  “Ahh, so even you’re afraid of this Chaos fellow?”

  Kotherrhre scoffs. “Humans only think my kind is immortal. I’ve heard some
horror stories around the deep about him, apparently knows how to strip aspects and engage in extra-theoretical warfare.”

  “So basically ignoring the laws of everything.”

  “Right. So when it comes to gametime, we’ll have to move fast as freak or the whole Nocturna’ll be toast.”

  The Captain pauses at the thought of the threat from beyond their realm, and comes to a slow nod. “I’ll prepare the necessary countermeasures. I bet if we caught him we’d be in for a pretty penny.”

  Kotherrhre snorts. “Don’t even think about it. Getting him off our case should be our one and only priority.”

  The Captain scoffs back. “Thank you. I’ll consider your views on the matter. Anything else to report?”

  “Nope. Keep up the good work, dude.”

  “And you as well, dude.” The Captain steps out, ascends from the lower decks and makes his way over to the brig.

  The cold spray leaps across the deck as a rough wave slaps across the port bow, sending another coat of salt across the deck and a scant line of water charging weakly into the brig. Colette is sleeping soundly, crumbled up and shivering. He watches for only a moment, considers saying something, but decides not to. There’s no need, he’ll need some time, after all.

  He strolls across the side of the deck to the front, and tips his cap to Boris.

  “Already making the morning preparations?”

  Boris, a skilled fisherthing, carries a full bucket of gnawing horrors into the kitchen. “I WAS OF THE THINKING THAT THE GRANCIS MEAT COULD BE USING OF THE SLEEP. THE CREW WILL BE NEEDING OF A HEARTY BREAKFAST AFTER YESTERDAY, I’M SURE YOU’RE OF THE KNOWING.”

  The Captain nods. “That’s true enough. You’re too good to us, Boris.”

  Boris swings the bucket over to his side. “I’M ONLY DOING OF THE VERY BEST. YOU COULDN’T BE ASKING A WORLD FAMOUS CHEF OF ANY OF THE LESS.”

  He chuckles. “I suppose not… Are you… Is business as it should?”

  “YOU KNOW, CAPTAIN. YOU ARE NOT VERY GOOD OF THE FEELINGS AS HARD AS YOU ARE OF THE TRYING.”

  The Captain scoffs. “W-hush, you. Do you truly expect me to accept relational advice from a main course?”

  “AND I AM NOT OF THE EXPECTING TO BE OF THE LISTENED TO BY A BAR OF THE SANDING… I WOULD BE OF THE GLAD IF YOU WERE A LITTLE MORE OF THE GENTLE WITH THE COLETTE FLESH, THOUGH.”

  The Captain huffs in offense. “Well as always, Mister Boris, I will consider your council on the matter.”

  “IT IS QUITE HARD ON THE GRANCIS MEAT, I’M SURE YOU’RE OF THE KNOWING. SHE IS OF THE VERY DISTURBING OF IT.”

  “They’re tough girls. After all they’re practically my kids now. Chips off the old block, I say.”

  Boris scoffs, spitting up a slew of half-digested food from the dinner. Boris’ hesitance and smarm angers The Captain. “… IF YOU ARE OF THE SAYING SO, CAPTAIN.”

  “I certainly am. Now back to work with you!” The Captain, as a shock to even himself, storms up to his office and swings the door open with such speed that he entirely forgets about his guest.

  Grancis jolts as if a drunk father smashed into the room. “C-Captain?” She was lying on her side with her coat off, but the second he came in she’s sitting up at attention.

  The Captain stops himself, his demeanor reverts instantly. “P-pardon me, Miss Vereyrty. I had… I’d forgotten you were in here.”

  She looks aside. “It’s okay.”

  The Captain watches her closely, subconsciously pushing forward the coat to the edge of her lap as if to present it. “Is… please excuse me, is something the matter, Miss Vereyrty?”

  She takes a breath. “Would it… could you do something for me, sir?”

  He steps forward. “And what might that be?”

  She slowly lifts the coat. “I’d like you to give this to… to Colette.”

  He stares at the coat plainly for a few seconds, then takes it up. “I absolutely will.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Won’t you be cold?”

  “No, sir. I’ll be wonderful.” She says just as he turns.

  “Alright. Goodnight.”

  “Alright, sir. Goodnight.”

  The Captain makes his way downstairs, and again passes Boris. “Grancis is doing perfectly well,” The Captain says.

  “BACK AT MY ISLAND WE WERE MAKING OF THE HOMES OUT OF SAND, YOU KNOW. TAKING OF THE POOP IN THEM AND THE EVERYTHING,” Boris responds, gutting fish with his slightly smaller, slightly sharper claw.

  The Captain picks up speed past Boris. “Get back to work, Chef Boris.”

  He trots to the brig, opens the door, and throws the coat at Colette, rousing both him and Jim from their sleep.

  “W-what the hell!?” Colette says as he slaps the coat aside halfway until he realizes it’s Grancis’. “Did… did she-”

  “She certainly did. You have a good friend, Mister Ketiere.”

  Colette draws breath with a look of anger, but just as quickly pins himself back. He takes a long sigh.“… Thank her for me.”

  “I will.”

  “W-Hey!” Jim mutters in jealousy. “Why don’t I get a coat?”

  “Shut up, Jim!”

  “Hush, you!” Colette and The Captain say in surprising unison.

  Jim rolls back to his bunk with a childish grunt just as The Captain steps out of the brig and locks the door back. “I’ll see you two in the morning if you decide to be upstanding, I suppose. Perhaps a week is too much considering your circumstances.”

  Colette crosses his arms. “Alright, Salt… Thanks I guess.”

  “For what?”

  “Saving me, man.”

  It takes him a moment, but he nods in acceptance. “It was my pleasure… So, have you thought about my question?”

  Colette squints. “What ques-… Yeah, yeah I remember now.”

  “Well?”

  “Wise — it’s way more important to be wise than powerful.”

  “I agree. Goodnight, Mister Ketiere.”

  He scoffs and turns away with Grancis’ coat over him. “Night.”

  The Captain rounds the corner again to find Boris still gutting and scaling. The Captain takes a moment to stand still, sigh and looks over to him. “Do you ever miss our old ship?” he asks under the stars.

  “THIS ONE’S OF THE QUITE COZY… BUT I AM OF THE MISSING IT. WE WERE OF THE VISITING OF MUCH NICER PLACES ON THE SHIP OF THE VERY FLOATY.”

  “…Yes, it’s been so long, everything has, that time has sort of stretched out to the point of imperception. All those places, the adventures, it all melts into one thing— the goal… I wonder sometimes if this is what the ancients feel like… How lonely they must be, even when surrounded by those closest.”

  “UH…” Boris mutters awkwardly. “…ARE YOU NEEDING OF THE HUGGI-”

  “No, Boris. I’m quite alright… It’s just hard to understand it, sometimes.” He turns to look at Boris. “You and I… we’ve been at this a good while.”

  “I AM SUPPOSING YOU ARE OF THE RIGHT. I AM OF THE WONDERING SOME DAYS IF WE WILL EVER BE OF THE FINISHING OUR DUELING. OR OF THE FIGURING OUT WHAT THIS GREAT ‘GOALING’ OF YOURS COULD BE.”

  The Captain crosses his arms behind his backside at ease. “One day, Boris, it will make sense to you. I know you’ll try to stop me all the same, but at least you will understand.”

  Boris gurgles gently, almost as calm as a human’s sigh. “THE EVILING THAT YOU BRING TO THE WORLD IS BEING TOO GREAT TO BE OF THE IGNORING. YOU CAN BE OF THE COUNTING ON IT THAT I WILL NOT BE OF THE GIVING UP.”

  The Captain turns to the stairs up-deck. “I look forward to seeing you give it your all. Goodnight.”

  “BE SLEEPING OF THE TIGHT, CAPTAIN!” Boris returns cheerfully.

  “And you, Boris,” he says just before ascending into his quarters.

  He comes this time to Grancis, quite asleep. She had finally, fully conked out, it seems; the last vestiges of her adrenaline from all the drama with Colette having run dry. The
Captain looks her over, even with the fire burning, she’s gathered up into herself as if it were cold. He gently takes off his new, old coat, and spreads it across her. In the warm dark of the very early morning, the moonless sky of the stars peeking in with only the scantest slivers of light, he pauses over her like a father would to his child. A very old feeling stirs in him again, and he doesn’t like it one bit, but obey he must, as Boris had said, he’s not the best when it comes to his emotions. He’ll need to drink away his insecurity, as usual. He pours another glass of Dugal’s and moves to the other side of the room.

  With the silent grace of a life leaving a body, The Captain takes up his seat at his desk, and in perfect silence begins talking to Pertalaine and Beatrice, both of whom have now faced their destiny, and are more than willing to speak about all they have learned — a reaction all but expected toward The Captain, The Eversea’s greatest commander of men, and interrogator of souls.

  -End of Episode Five-

  -End of Season One-

  Note from the author?

  Why yes…

  It is Kell Inkston:

  It has crossed the worlds to render you fiction.

  Kell hopes you’ve enjoyed.

  Perhaps you’d like more adventures of darkness, magic, and cute things that can talk?

  Please, make your way to https://kellinkston.com/ and benefit yourself with some further reading.

  More by Kell Inkston:

  - The Courts Divided -

  What happens if a book character gets her hands on the book she’s in? (Metaphysical fantasy, cute minions of evil, unexpected bouts of moral philosophy, badass wizard fights and tea parties)

  - Voidstar Empire -

  - And it’s FREE opening short story! -

  What happens if a runaway brat-lieutenant joins up with an intergalactic insectoid military that all think humans are the most horrifying things in the universe? (Action, cute bug people with awesome guns, weaponized black holes)

  - Substation 7 -

  What happens when you find a copy of your home in the basement of said home? What happens when you multiply that by a million and fill said basement home with horrors scratching on the very deepest safeties of the human psyche? (Dystopian Thriller, Dark Fantasy, immense human suffering, sassy killer robots)