Nocturna League- Season One Box Set

by Kell Inkston

  “WHO IS IT OF THE FROMMING?” Boris screams through the mess hall.

  “The Mayor of Wreckwind Port, of course. Did I not tell you?”

  “OH! I THOUGHT YOU MEANT SOME LETTER OF THE OTHER.”

  “Well no, it’s the same letter. May I-

  “THIS IS OF THE OKAY. PLEASE BE OF THE READING.”

  The Captain smiles. “I’d love to.” He clears his nonexistent throat and begins with a mockingly snooty voice:

  “Dear Honorable Captain The Captain,

  It’s so nice to finally write you after all these months. I wanted just so badly to speak with you before you left without even so much as a word. I must say I did not appreciate the regards you gave Chief Vangair upon running off with that little box of mine and all that cargo. Did I do something to offend you?”

  The Captain pulls away and shares a quick scoff with Luisoix, the only two with the full understanding of what she had done that night that put them on the run.

  “If I did, I’m sorry, very sorry. I feel this has all just been one big misunderstanding and I want so very terribly badly to show you just how sorry I am. Please allow me to apologize to you with a full pardon for absolutely everything and an invitation to the Eversea’s fanciest and most desirable gala of the year: The Irefall Manor Ball. It is there you’ll receive your pardon and enjoy the finest night of your eccentric life.

  Of course, you’ll have to bring along that sensational chef Boris of yours- I simply must have him cook something up for us as I’d like him to exchange some recipes with my own master chef, and bring your lovely boy too; Jim, yes? And I know your cute little engineer would just love to show me all his new, wonderful contraptions, that precious thing- but please just bring the blueprints, not him. He’s rather silly and we can both agree his presence is less than enjoyable. I also hear tell that you’ve recently opened up your workplace to those of the fairer sex and brought some young ladies on board! You know I just have to meet them, and you know just how often poor overworked Vangair goes without a dancing partner. It will be on the third of Grggam, but I want you to be there by the second so we can talk and spend lots of time together. Please come!

  With all the passion of the waves,

  Pertalaine Irefall, Mayor of Wreckwind Port”

  At the end of the letter is an offensively-bold kiss mark and a small writ of invitation. The Captain stuffs away the letter and writ with a nod. “And there you have it.”

  Jim and Boris exchange quick looks- the two are surprisingly fond of each other considering their infamous reputations upon an already infamous vessel. “So, we’re going to a party?” Jim asks, head tilted forward in suspicion.

  “You all are the persons she described in the letter, so you will be attending the party with me. Worry not about attire; I’ll provide for you and ensure you’re properly briefed.”

  “Briefed?” Grancis asks.

  The Captain nods. “Yes. While we’re going for a good time and a pardon, we’re also going to show Pertalaine just how much better The Nocturna operates than her silly criminal underworld. You and Chef Boris will be outcooking her finest. Luisoix will make a mockery of her chief engineer’s designs, and Jim… Jim will be the Jimmest Jim that ever Jimmed. Jim stuff, of course- we all know.”

  “Thanks a lot, Captain.” Jim scowls.

  “I’m sure you’ll be of great use, Jim, so long as you keep down your… other self.”

  Knowing, dreading glances are exchanged among the others.

  “Yeah, don’t you have a brig to cry in somewhere?” Colette says with a smirk.

  Jim groans. “Don’t you have a… Dunks to get… beat up by?”

  “Nice one, Jim,” Luisoix says with acidic sarcasm.

  “A perfect rebuttal,” The Captain says in echo.

  “THAT WAS OF THE HORRIBLE, JIM,” Boris says. We all know that Boris is not much of one for sarcasm, but he still tries hard, the poor fellow.

  Grancis just turns her gaze as Jim smashes his fist into the table. “Shut up! You all know I can’t control it!”

  “You can control yourself back to the brig,” Colette says, winning a chuckle from Luisoix.

  Jim’s tattoo flashes and Colette tenses for movement. “You… B-bastards always-”

  The Captain cracks a single knuckle, pacifying Jim instantly. “Mister Masthaven, Miss Ketiere, please be more exemplary. Verbal jousting is certainly within the domain of a fine captain, however you two are pushing into the realm of vicious, and good captains are rarely vicious.”

  “What?” Jim snaps. “I didn’t do anyth-”

  “I’m not interested in excuses, Mister Masthaven. You will display coolness or it’s back to the brig with you.”

  Jim sighs and pushes his hand into his face. “Y…yes sir.”

  “Very good. Now then: an aspiring person of command must be ready for any feasible event that might be thrown his way. It is for this that I will assure that you three are updated on the proper courtly manners and dances.”

  “Dance lessons, for the three of us?” Grancis asks.

  “Among other things, yes. I would be ill caught if one of my crew mates caught the eye of another captain or noble and desired a dance, only to be unable to perform properly. The lesson will have to be intensive as we don’t have long until we reach Wreckwind. I estimate about a day to a week.”

  Colette squints an eye. “To a week?”

  The Captain waves his head about and shrugs. “The Eversea tries hard to get sailors lost, so it quite depends. If both Jim and I are in good mental condition we can certainly chart the proper course. If not… we’ll get there when we get there.”

  “But won’t we miss the ball?” Colette asks.

  He nods. “Yes, but taking it slow and steady would be preferable to running off course and into a deep god, or traveling off the end of some far off world, or even worse,” The Captain’s tone darkens. “finding one of the elder islands.”

  Even Luisoix looks confused, but for the first time, Grancis notices Boris pulse his body- like a small, almost imperceptible flinch of horror.

  “Hell’s an elder island?” Jim asks.

  The Captain scoffs. “One day, my boy, one day,” he says with professorly finger wriggle. The Captain straightens up and rises from his seat. “Now then, meeting adjourned. Mister Masthaven, Miss Ketiere, Miss Vereyrty, I expect to see you all in the gym tomorrow after breakfast; understand?”

  “Yeah,” Colette says.

  “Alright,” goes the Jim.

  And of course there’s a demure “Mhmm,” from Grancis.

  The Captain nods. “Very good. You’re dismissed.” He looks over to Luisoix. “And Head Engineer Luisoix. I would like to have a word with you in private.”

  Luisoix raises a horrific angler-fish brow. “Sure thing, Cap.”

  The group splits up and Grancis feels the need to turn in early. Her duties for the day are finished, after all, and she’s been weighing her feelings with Colette for hours. She doesn’t even look at Colette when she gets up, bows and takes her leave.

  Really, Grancis knew this would be brought up eventually. For all the numerous times Grancis stuck out for Colette, when in their younger years it was Colette who stuck out for Grancis. She remembers well the taste and sensation of mud, the abrupt fling of gravity when one is pushed over, and even the rare, second-long sting of a thrown rock that leaves a lasting injury that must have only been because of a fall, she’d claim. Alone at ten years old, Grancis had no enjoyment of going outside. Being the daughter of the cultured doctor forced her out like a sore thumb. As many of the villagers did not appreciate the newly-moved doctor, their children did not appreciate his child either. Colette, however, was different.

  Grancis escapes the thoughts and returns to her anger as she enters the sleeping quarters, steps to the end of the room and ascends to her bunk. She climbs over Colette’s with a heave, and stops. Her lobster plushy, lonesome just a day ago, is now companion to a small octopus, smirki
ng blankly as it wraps around an equally-soft anchor. She’s set aback only a moment, and then she lays herself to sleep.

  An hour later, Colette comes to her bunk, enters solemnly, and turns her back to Grancis. Grancis peeks over Colette a moment. Something’s missing with her. It takes her a few seconds.

  “So… where’s your coat?” Grancis asks, almost whispering.

  Colette doesn’t move an inch. “Lost it.”

  Grancis takes a breath too. “I see… And you found this thing?” Grancis gently presses the octopus into Colette’s back.

  “Yeah… you know, just lyin’ around.”

  They listen to the muffled sound of the waves as they rock the two gently. “Thank you,” Grancis says.

  Colette pauses before responding. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s true.”

  Colette sighs. “But it was still mean. You would’ve been fine without me, but not me without you… I needed you. I still need you.”

  Grancis hums with the gentleness of a butterfly landing on a leaf. “I need you too. I just don’t want you to change. I’m scared.”

  “Scared?”

  “Don’t change. I don’t want you to lose who you are.”

  Colette bites her lip. “I won’t lose myself. Whatever I’ll be, I’ll still be fighting for you. Is that enough?”

  Grancis is quiet a moment. “I… I don’t know. Just please be careful, okay?” Colette nudges her elbow to poke Grancis, but Grancis catches her hand with her own. “Promise me?” Grancis adds.

  Colette sighs, stares through the darkness of the bunk room to the mild light from the porthole window, and nods. “I promise.”

  Grancis hugs Colette’s arm to her chest. “Thank you… Good night.”

  “Good night,” Colette says.

  The two terminate contact and wrap into their bunks. Colette wonders just what she could do to defeat the overlord without becoming a monstrosity, and Grancis wonders just how deep Colette will go once she inevitably breaks her promise.

  The Most Alarming Dream

  Colette is soft in sleep as a dream folds around her.

  She’s standing next to The Captain and Grancis in Irefall Manor. Golden, twisting light shines throughout the grand room as sailors and friends from the village alike enjoy the ball’s class and hospitality. She speaks with Mayor Irefall, a snooty, elderly woman wearing a ridiculous, towering hat of lace and fur. Just as Colette finishes saying something she thinks is very clever, one of the people laughing at her wit does not finish his laugh, but continues like a monotonous, eerie broken record. The laugh goes on as she scans the crowd looking for the culprit. At the end of the ballroom, towering at ten meters high and a grin like broken glass, stands the overlord.

  “What a lovely joke!” He says with a chuckle. “Just like your mother!”

  Of course, dream people often have pretty weak senses of humor, but the statement makes Colette more than furious.

  “Die!” Is all she can say as she flings aside the glass, takes up her revolver and shoots at the towering evil.

  He laughs suavely as he brushes his bangs out of the way. “Fool! You can’t hope to defeat me with a toy like that!” He says in between snake-like hisses. Colette throws her gun at the overlord and dashes for him. She throws punches, kicks, and strikes in a fury of confusion, but every hit from her is dodged and countered. It jolts her terribly each time the overlord sends her flying back into the other guests. About the fifth time, The Captain pulls her up and hands her a glowing red stone.

  “Miss Muffin Pie, I found the eye!” He says as he adjusts his glasses and cracks his knuckles against his head in a singular, awkward motion.

  “Yes!” She exclaims, staring deep into the strange rock.

  “DO YOU CLAIM MY POWER?” The stone asks, a pupil staring back into her eyes.

  “Of course! Yes!” She screams. The stone’s light wraps around her, and everything changes.

  She feels enormous, powerful, beyond all recognition of what she was just a moment before- limitless. She bounds at the now-horrified overlord, her fist impacting his face like a collapsing star. With a scream, a crunch, and an explosion, the overlord’s ended in a single strike, blowing over every guest, chair, and table. Colette stares at the ashen mess that was only a second ago the overlord in complete euphoria, a full failure of recognition. It is only as she hears Grancis screaming that she thinks to look down. Colette raises her hands up to view, and she she spots a small, dark slit in the palm of her hand- a cut. Colette stares in with grinning fascination amidst the cheers of everyone save poor Grancis. Colette pokes into the small cut, quickly tearing open and letting loose a stream of black sand. In shock, she opens it further, allowing more of her sandy innards to run from the wound. The cheering changes to screaming, the audience joining in with Grancis in horror. As Colette gradually falls apart and pours onto the floor, only The Captain steps forward. Her face, eyes, heart and skin, everything turns to heavy black sand. The Captain plops a roll of bandages upon the pile of sand that is now her, and he speaks.

  “Was it worth it?” He asks, just as she feels her very soul turn into sand.

  Colette jolts back to the waking world, eyes wide with the horror of what could be. A second passes as she hears the sea wind blow through the ajar porthole, and relief washes over her. It was only a dream. A moment of contemplation as to the meaning, but like most people, she lets it slip from her mind quickly. Turning into black sand is a bunch of nonsense, after all - That’s shit only The Captain would worry about.

  The Captain instructs Colette in the art of courtly manners and also a SUBMARINE ATTACK

  Breakfast is cheerier than yesterday’s as chatter about Port Wreckwind float through the air. Words about beloved pubs, sweethearts, friends and family are exchanged anywhere there’s two or more of the jobbing sailors. Colette picks up that people are, for the most part, really looking forward to getting to the port and enjoying all that it has to offer. Personally she’s dreading it. Dancing, espionage, and at the end of it all, a choice: If she gets her hands on The Black Eye, would she take the offered power, or would she hand it right to The Captain out of cowardice? She searches her center for answers as she travels to the gymnasium, but the only thing she’s certain of is her conviction to kill the overlord- that’s what she needs more than anything.

  The Captain’s already there, well-dressed, dapper and with a tall glass of whiskey in hand. “Ah! Good morning, my dearest Apple Pie!”

  “Eh, hey, Salt. Morning.”

  He animates a loose bow. “And you. I expect you’re feeling ready and willing for some waltzing?”

  Colette squints. “Waltzing?”

  “Why yes!” He gulps down the glass and begins pouring more. “Dancing is an exemplary skill for any person of command.”

  “That’s what you call everything.”

  “Everything that’s good, certainly.” He downs another full glass, and tosses it aside as Grancis enters.

  “Good morning!” She salutes.

  “And good morning to you, my little cook’s assistant! How’s Boris today?” The Captain’s tone is so light and casual, the two ladies would almost take it as friendly.

  “Oh…” She’s caught off guard. “Good, I suppose.”

  The limp Captain suddenly straightens up in interest as he leans in. “Has he shown you what’s in the magic spice box yet?”

  “The hell?” Colette mutters as Grancis hums in curiosity.

  “The magic… You mean ‘the box that’s not good of the opening’?” Grancis asks.

  The Captain scoffs. “Yes, that one.”

  “No. He told me that it held a portal to something terrible.”

  “Yes! A portal that can take… I forget, but damn is it delicious!” The Captain exclaims as he just picks up the bottle and finishes off the rest.

  Colette and Grancis share a quick glance. It’s quite apparent to both of them that not only is this one of The Captain’s rare and fa
mous “episodes”, but he’s also smashed beyond compare. They’ve seen him drink a lot, but what he just put down would kill a person- something must be on his mind.

  “Oh! That’s… nice!” Grancis says, grinning ear to ear as Jim comes in.

  “Hey folks,” Jim hangs up his coat.

  “Ah, and Mister Masthaven! Looks like we’re all here!” The Captain clears his non-existent throat, gestures Jim over, and enters stance with him immediately. Before Jim can gain his bearings The Captain spins him and skillfully directs him to one of the ten chairs at the left side of the room. “Please take a seat. You too, ladies.”

  The two sit next to Jim, and The Captain pulls up a chalk board and begins writing.

  “A lecture?” Grancis asks, perking up quickly at the reminder of home and the school house.

  “That’s right. You’ll need to understand the method to this madness before we truly begin. Now…” He starts drawing names and patterns with numbers and feet. “To ensure we’ve covered all the bases, I’ll teach you the three most popular dances presently.”

  Jim raises his hand.

  “Yes, Jim?”

  “Are you sure these are the ones we need to learn? How long has it been since you’ve been to a dance?”

  There’s a short silence. “Now, Mister Masthaven. I’ve been to ten dances in the last… while for every time you’ve been to the brig.”

  Colette snickers. “So like a million dances.”

  The Captain nods. “Give or take a million, yes. Now, I’ll be teaching you all the waltz, the foxtrot, and the gann. So long as you know one of these, you should look as though you know what you’re doing at most any occasion across The Eversea, and probably the Omniverse for that matter. Any questions before we go onto the essentials of partnered dance?”

  Jim raises his hand again. “Why am I here again?”

  “Because Mayor Irefall thinks you’re my son for some reason and thought it’d be polite and invite you.”

  Colette squints an eye. “Wait, so is Jim your son or isn’t he?”