by John L. Monk
The ship’s loyalty continued to suffer under the sadistic reign of Captain Overreaction, as I’d come to think of him. There were beatings after every attack and more executions. It seemed that no matter how well the fights went or how quickly the crew leaped into battle—or how perfectly they swabbed the decks or worked the sails—they were always penalized. As such, our loyalty had degraded to 71%.
I wasn’t sure when the mutiny was supposed to happen. Elfie, ever the optimist, thought it’d happen at 0%, whereas Felix was set on 50. Either way, I was beginning to notice the black looks thrown my way by the surly crew—looks that never fell on my two new friends. After all, I was the owner. They were merely passengers.
There was one good development: Over the course of the various attacks, my coin tosses had improved significantly. I was now at twenty-nine percent karma. Or, as I liked to think of it: within striking distance of Mythian leaving me the hell alone.
One early morning, when Elfie and Felix usually swapped places, the two showed up with sparkling wine and little clay mugs.
“What’s this for?” I said.
Elfie smiled and raised her mug. “You’re crossing into Ward 2, that’s what. A toast! To forward motion!”
“Upward and onward!” Felix said.
We clinked mugs and sipped. Tasty, but too early for alcohol. Oblivious to that, they finished theirs quickly and refilled.
“So you’re absolutely sure about this?” I said, staring dubiously in the direction of that invisible demarcation between the wards.
Elfie, fresh from a night of uninterrupted sleep, nodded vigorously. “Oh yeah, absolutely.”
Felix said, “You won’t get teleported and you won’t get eaten. No worries there. You will see a message asking if you’d like to teleport to the bridge guardian.” He smiled tiredly. “I suggest you choose No.”
“Once you’re over the line,” Elfie said, “you’re free to leave the ship without worry. It sticks, too. From then on, you can travel between the wards freely and never get a teleport message.”
Felix blinked in surprise. “Hey—we didn’t get attacked yesterday. What gives?”
“My luck’s changing,” I said. “I suspect we’ll get another attack or two, but after that, it should be smooth sailing.”
Elfie said, “Maybe only one more attack. Encounters in Ward 2 have to be worth more, right?”
Something I’d noticed about the beautiful elf woman: She could be sweet, or silly, or downright strange at times. But when it came to the game, she had good ideas and clever insights.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I said. “You’re good at this.”
Batting her eyes, she said, “I have my moments.”
According to the helmsman, we’d cross the divide at eight bells. I felt oddly excited. Nostalgia, I figured, from when I’d first taken the bridge to Ward 2 so long ago.
I wasn’t the only one excited. The crew, I noticed, went about their duties with more spring in their step than usual. I asked Felix about it.
“A celebratory occasion,” he said. “A time-honored tradition that even Captain Winslow Richards the Third, or perhaps Fourth, can’t interfere with. They’ll all yell huzzah when we cross, then the quartermaster will dole out an extra ration of rum. There’ll be no work done for the rest of the day, though they’ll pretend to.”
I swallowed nervously. “But isn’t the captain the type to stop it? You know, complain they’re all lazy and start whipping people?”
Felix snorted. “If he does that, the ship will mutiny! Sailors are big on tradition.”
“You’re not making me feel better.”
The morning hours passed too slowly for the men, who couldn’t conceal their grins. It was within this air of expectation that we at last crossed the divide into Ward 2, resulting in the expected cheers of the men and a slew of game messages:
NEW LOCATION: Ward 2
EXPLORATION AWARD: 50,000 EXPERIENCE POINTS
NOTICE: YOU ARE INSIDE A MOBILE INSTANCE THAT HAS CROSSED INTO WARD 2, BUT YOU HAVE YET TO FIGHT THE WARD 2 BRIDGE GUARDIAN. PLEASE CHOOSE “YES” IF YOU WOULD LIKE A FREE TELEPORT TO THE BRIDGE.
(NO / YES)
I mentally chose NO and breathed a sigh of relief when I didn’t vanish from the ship.
“It’s done,” I said.
Felix said, “Congratulations, Howard! You’re now twice as underpowered as before!”
Elfie and I laughed at his thoroughly true pronouncement.
“I’m off to sleep now,” Felix said.
“And I’m gonna finish my drink,” Elfie said.
For the rest of the day, Elfie and I watched as the crew threw their non-critical duties, and all caution, to the proverbial wind. They danced and sang and drank their rum, and almost none of them threw me any black looks. I checked the ship’s loyalty and found to my surprise that we’d jumped another 5 points, putting me in a less nervous state of mind. In some ways, I felt more trapped on the ship than I had in Jane’s prison.
“No sign of the captain,” I said.
Elfie snorted. “Probably hiding in his cabin planning new ways to punish people. Fat lot of good it’ll do him. When we get to port tomorrow morning, half the crew will desert. We’ll need a few days to hire new ones.”
I eyed her curiously. “I thought it was a straight shot.”
“It is, usually,” she said. “But your bad luck has ravaged our delectomancer’s baking ingredients. Before we get to the island, Marie Antoinette’s Revenge will have expired. He’ll need to make a new cake—as well as the other foods he needs to be effective.”
I nodded thoughtfully and tried to enjoy the closest thing to festivities I’d seen since coming aboard. I even had more sparkling wine.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Like Brighton, the town of Good Riddance was a mixed bag of lucids and players, and built around a binding stone. This stone, if I cared to use it (which I didn’t), wasn’t enclosed by a guild stronghold. Probably because no one in Ward 2 would put up with it. Ward 2 players were different than Ward 1 players. Less petty, usually, and they tended to work together better.
I’d been here before, though not in about fifty years. Primarily a trading town, Good Riddance was either the first or last seagoing stop in Ward 2, depending which way you were going. It was also a major source of splink bile—a critical component in the highly sought-after pain resistance potions favored by tank-specced classes, and in particular monks. Divers who harvested the balloon-shaped fish before they were fished out every month could earn good money—which isn’t to say safe money. The waters around Good Riddance were shark infested.
Just before the crew was set to go ashore for liberty, the captain gave one of his world-famous demoralizing speeches.
“Due to the excessive … slovenliness … these last few days, shore leave has been canceled to all crew of rank able-bodied seaman or lower. Men who attempt to sneak away shall be put before the mast, where they will receive one hundred lashes. If you manage to escape, a warrant will be issued, paid for out of my own pocket, to secure your capture. Sergeant! Secure the gangplank and post guards at every quarter! Your men have my permission to fire if they feel threatened, and of course if anyone attempts to desert their post. Flesh wounds only, please.” The captain laughed ruefully. “We have enough men to replace as it is.”
As he said this, that part of the crew who carried crossbows, and who tended to hide when the fighting started, spread out and covered every corner of the ship, with a double guard on the gangplank leading to the dock. At the same time, the men groaned and yelled objections while the captain smiled with righteous indignation.
“Dammit,” I said, “enough’s enough.”
I marched up the steps to the quarterdeck and confronted him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Leave these men alone or I’ll cut your head off and shove it up your ass!”
I might have done it anyway, but rough hands grabbed me from behind, dragging me away. I star
ted to fight before realizing it wasn’t the captain’s squad of cowards, but Elfie and Felix.
“What are you doing?” I said. “We don’t have to put up with this guy. We’ll find another captain!”
Through all this, Captain Richards not only kept smiling but seemed to smile wider, if that were possible.
Felix whispered, “Dammit, Howard, that’s just what he wants. That damned lucid’s imperative is to be as insufferable as possible!”
“If you dismiss him, the instance goes away and you won’t get to the island,” Elfie said calmly.
Captain Richards’ laugh was loud, artificial, and infuriating.
“Your friends are quite right,” he said. “You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not. As the owner, you have four powers with regards to this ship and its company, and four only. One, you may sell the ship to another hero. I’ll still captain it, of course, but you won’t be the owner. Two, you can order me to take you wherever you want, and I’ll happily do so. Three, you may purchase repairs, foodstuffs, and other supplies for our continuing voyage—something I highly recommend, by the way, or the men will be eating each other in a few weeks’ time! But don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.” He laughed again as if he’d told a really good joke. “As for your fourth power, you may dismiss me at will. Ah, but if you do that, these poor sailors shall fall into the sea. Most of them cannot even swim…” He paused theatrically, letting his words sink in. “As I said when you first came aboard: I run this ship, you merely own it. Address me in an uncivil tongue again and the crew—my crew, understand—will pay for it. Of that, I must assure you.”
With that, the captain turned back to the men, who’d stood dumbstruck since the first insult.
“Carry on,” he said, then turned on his heel and marched back to his cabin.
There was one good result of the altercation: After seeing me rush to defend them, the crew’s loyalty shot up to 92%. They didn’t seem to mind that shore leave had been canceled. My guess was they hadn’t expected it to be granted at all.
“Too bad you can’t keep insulting him,” Elfie said that evening after Felix turned in for the night. This being a non-Sanctuary town, the couple had decided to keep up the watch rotation. Elfie, however, demanded they switch times. She didn’t like Felix being up every night.
“If I insult him again…”
“He’ll take it out on the crew. But what if you do it behind his back? The way the men do when he’s not looking?”
I scratched my chin thoughtfully. “You know, that might actually work.”
Elfie grinned, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Just don’t get carried away.”
“Over-enthusiasm isn’t my middle name.”
“Good, because I don’t fancy the crew killing the captain. If the ship goes poof, it’s a long swim to shore. The monsters can’t kill us—probably—but we have to sleep regularly or we’ll die.”
“Thank goodness you have that Portable Hoard.”
In response, Elfie removed it from a big pocket. To my surprise, she handed it to me. It had thick enameled panels of rose and white that shimmered in the light. Dragon-skin webbing between the panels allowed the bag to open wide. Connected on two sides was a long loop for wearing it across one’s chest.
“If we get too close to a mutiny,” I said, “you can fill it up with yours and Felix’s gear.”
“He has one too,” she said, causing me to gape. “But you forgot about your gear.”
“You know all I have is junk.”
Elfie shook her head. “No, you have an amulet. I’ve seen you with it out sometimes. Shiny. What’s it do?”
I pulled it out for her to see.
“Can I touch it?” she said.
“Sure.”
“Did that sound naughty?”
“Yes.”
Elfie reached out and touched the amulet—then gasped at what she read.
“Holy cow!” she said. “That’s just … that’s amazing! When you said you were going to fix the game, I thought you were just… Forgive me, Howard, but we’ve met so many people with grand ideas. But wow… You know, I’ve heard of Ethan. He was a player, just like us. A recent one, too. Word is he was only in the game about a year and then something happened. Something big. Nobody knows what, though, but he’s a god now.”
She let the amulet fall and I covered it back up.
“I wish you better luck than you’ve had,” she said. “Something tells me you’re going to need it.”
Provisions for the remainder of the journey cost upwards of 15 thousand gold from my greatly diminished savings, now modestly sitting at 43,528. I gave the money to the ship’s purser, who went ashore to secure what we needed.
Next were the dead sailors we had to replace. Guiltily, I found myself agreeing with the decision to deny liberty. If the men were allowed off, they definitely would have deserted—but not before telling everyone in town to avoid our cursed ship like the plague. So the lucid sailors of Good Riddance had no clue as they happily signed their names in the ship’s book after coming aboard. If they noticed the nervous expressions of the marines, or the surly looks of their fellows, they didn’t let on. They carried their sea chests below without a word, and once again the ship was back to full capacity.
We were supposed to set off at 4:30 p.m., which the sailing master said was high tide at this time of the year. Felix, however, was off in town doing something while Elfie slept.
I knew if he didn’t arrive in time, I could order the captain to keep the ship here. After all, that was one of my supposed “powers”—the right to tell the captain where to sail, or in this case, stay.
At ten minutes to departure, a knot of tension within me unclenched as Felix came strolling down the quay. I waved, but he didn’t see me.
“He’s found something out,” Elfie said beside me, causing me to jump.
Felix strolled up the gangplank under the suspicious eyes of the marines. He tossed off a cheery wave, then strolled right past us, barely slowing to whisper, “Follow me.”
The waist of the ship was crowded with marines, new workers, and crates of provisions still being processed. Overseeing all this was the quartermaster—a decent sort of lucid whom the men respected.
“Shh!” Felix said when we caught up to him. “Over by the taffrail.”
During the trip, I’d tried my best to learn all the ship terminology, but the proper words seemed to vanish like late-morning mist whenever I tried using them. I knew this one, though. Taffrail was the word for the railing at the stern of the ship.
Unfortunately, that section was guarded by a marine with a crossbow. He glanced at us with a bored expression, then looked away. Undaunted, Felix led us to the opposite side, well beyond whisper range.
“Have a look at this,” he said, then handed me a folded-up piece of parchment.
I opened it and gasped at the photorealistic picture I found of me, Howard, staring straight ahead as if posing for the shot. Behind me were Elfie and Felix, part of the ship, and the wide-open sea.
“Clever bit of divination,” Felix said.
“Had to have been Dory, back in Brighton,” Elfie said. “She’s a diviner. I’ve met her before. She’s nice.”
Diviners could take remote snapshots of people. All they needed was a name.
“Wait a minute,” I said, “where did you get this?”
“Found it nailed outside the trading post,” Felix said. “I asked inside and it seems there’s a woman looking for you. High-level armor, holier-than-thou attitude… Proprietor said she came through a week ago. When you weren’t there, she hired three frigates, then set to sea in the largest. That was two days ago. Dory must have been eavesdropping, or possibly granted a foretelling. I’m surprised because she rarely takes clients these days. Whoever’s looking for you, she’s sparing no expense.”
I shook my head in frustration. “Player captain or lucid?”
“I asked that too,” Felix said glumly. “Player.�
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Of all the rotten luck. Jane's captain was someone who enjoyed sea battles so much they’d made it their lifestyle.
Elfie said, “Why’s this woman looking for you?”
I paused in thought. I liked these two, but if they knew the full extent of my plan, there was a good chance they wouldn’t like me very much. Sometimes I wasn’t even sure if I liked me very much.
“Bernard,” I said. “The innkeeper. He’s got it in his head I want to destroy the world. My plan doesn’t fit squarely with his imperative, so he’s overreacting. This woman is his paladin.”
“Is that right?” Felix said.
Elfie bounced on the balls of her feet. “Let him touch your amulet!”
I took it out and let it hang on my chest.
“Go ahead and touch it,” she said.
Felix reached out, touched it with a finger … and his eyes grew round in surprise.
“Now that’s something,” he said. “A personal message from a god built right into the item description! He seems to approve of your plan … whatever it is.”
I smiled noncommittally and hoped he wouldn’t press me.
“Explains some things,” he said after a bit.
“Like what?”
“Now we know why Bernard’s paladin is after you. The balance. In Mythian, if there’s a god working for you, there’s definitely one working against you. That way, everyone stays busy.”
I shook my head. “Ethan’s not working for me. More like he’s … I dunno … involved?”
“I didn’t even know Bernard had a paladin,” Elfie said. “Feelsy, didn’t we know a paladin once? I forget his name.”
“Andre,” he said. “Worshiped Urginor, God of Iron. He was also multi-classed as a runemaster. Had a nifty set of armor held together by magnetic runes.”