by Kell Inkston
“Oh? So people tend to travel to the Eversea rather than from? I’m… hmm.”
He smirks. “What?”
“Why would people want to live here?”
“Wreckwind, or The Eversea in general?”
She looks out the window. “Thank you for the room. This is really nice.”
“Getting cold feet? Don’t be shy.”
Grancis takes a labored breath before she looks back to her smiling escort. “This place is terrible. All of it. Everything tries to kill you. It’s so different from the village… granted, I guess it wasn’t the best there, and I’ve seen so many incredible things traveling with the crew… but how could anyone want a life on the Eversea?”
His expression is snidely pleased for a second, but it dies away quickly after a moment of consideration from her side of things. “You’re a better sort than these people, Miss Vereyrty.”
She looks to him, and the professional demeanor has died off to the face of a concerned young man faced with the grim realities of the world. “Excuse me, I’m confused.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure all of this has been crazy for you… Has no one really explained any of this to you? Why people want the Eversea?”
“Well… no.”
He pauses with an awkwardness completely unlike himself just a minute ago, and then motions to the love seat. She obliges and they sit together, a person’s worth of space between them. “Power, Miss Vereyrty,” he says.
She looks at him with encouraging acknowledgment.
“This cursed ocean, this rift between worlds, is a land without mercy or care for soul-owning creatures. There never was any good here, but there was strength… great, terrible power from below. I have no idea what’s below, no one does, I’m sure. I remember when I came here as a teenager. I had nightmares for weeks the first time I saw someone grabbed by something from the water. I can still hear those drowned screams thinking back on it… That sort of nightmarish power, though… that’s why people come to the Eversea. While what lies below pose a great threat to humans, they also offer such… cataclysmic ability to those who survive the storms and beasts. Yeah…” He has trouble looking at her now for some reason. He turns and looks over at the fireplace as if it were lit. “I came here as a boy from a small village from some backwater like I’m sure you did. I wanted so badly to make my mark on the world, but I had standards, principle- my parents raised me well, dammit. Now I’m working for this fucking witch… she’s going to… look, I didn’t…” He looks about sheepishly.
“What?” A doe-eyed Grancis asks.
He grits his teeth. “I didn’t know people like you were on the Nocturna… She’s going to try to kill you all, you know.”
Grancis punctuates the conversation with a deep breath. “I expected as much, Officer.”
He looks to her- his eyes are wide, honest, beautiful. “Please, just Martaine.”
She nods. “Okay, Martaine. You can call me Grancis, then.”
He smiles only briefly before returning to his gloomy, doomed expression. “I… look, you should grab your friend and go.”
Her hands upon her lap, she tightens her grip. “I’ll be okay.”
“No… No you won’t. You don’t know her like I do. You’re a good person, Grancis, but you’re still naive. Irefall’s got more than just an army of men working for her, but spirits, demons, evil gods! There’s no way in hell your group’ll get out of this mansion alive without help!”
Grancis smiles. “We’ll be alright. I’m sure of it.”
He lurches over in shock. “Are… really? I know you have faith in your captain, but he’s just a man. She could kill him on a whim. I’ve seen her do things… unimaginable things to people- one second they were living, breathing people, and the next they were… God… just please, Grancis- you need to get out of here!”
Grancis, still calm and with a smirk across her face, draws back straight into the back of the seat. The bells of an incoming merchant vessel ring cheerfully outside. “He’s the captain, sir, and I’m afraid you’re the naive one.”
His expression flinches, caught off guard by her confidence. “And how’s that?”
“I know The Captain well enough by now to know he’s in control of the situation. I’ve never seen anyone come close to outmatching him, even at his worst moments… Besides, I know for a fact Colette would never back down and I’m not leaving her.”
Vangair almost reaches out to shake her, but contains himself. “I… I just hate this. I thought I’d join up to make a living and do some good to this place. My father always told me how it was a land that needed saving by Christ’s grace- it was so much more than he knew.”
Grancis squints an eye. “Christ?”
“Uh…” stumblingly he pulls out a wooden figure - a lowercase letter T, she assumes. “My god.”
“Your…” She takes a deep breath. Maybe this guy is a freak after all, she muses. “Your god is a letter?”
He stares at her dumbfoundedly like a goof five seconds until he makes the connection. “Wh-no! No, it’s a crucifix! It’s what he died on!”
Now it’s Grancis that’s dumbfounded. “You worship a god that died?”
He nods blatantly. “Ye- I mean no… damn! I mean technically yes but he’s alive. He became a human so he could die for us.”
Her head trails a bit to the side. “But what would dying do?”
He raises a hand to explain, but looses a sigh in defeat. “Look, I’ll… Another time. I mean my father was a pastor…” He notes another confused stare. “Someone that spreads religion,” he adds. Suddenly she brightens up in realization, causing him to go on. “Right, and he said it would be right for me to go and make a life there because there was no longer any need for me to be sheltered at home.”
Grancis hums. “Yeah, alright. So where do you come from?”
He smirks awkwardly. “I doubt you’ve heard of it.”
“I still want to know, man.” She unwittingly mimics Colette’s tone to sound friendly, but it just makes Martaine more uncomfortable.
“Y-yeah, fine. I’m from Dimension #13- the darkness is great there, but the church of Whihelmish is strong enough without me and I know that God will provide, so I went on a pilgrimage here to become stronger in the faith and spread it wherever I go.”
She’s not sure how to answer to that, but she’ll do her damnedest, considering he’s the most normal person she’s met in months; which isn’t really saying much, now that she considers it. She’ll have to say something that validates his feelings, while still sounding witty and interesting herself.
“That’s fascinating,” she says with a smile. She tried, honest.
Martaine just smirks and scans around the pictures and various baubles held up in the room. “I guess, thank you.”
She’ll have to do better. “So why did you choose Miss Irefall to work for?”
“I saw there was much work to be done in Wreckwind. I applied for a constable academy class seat and was lucky enough to have enough on me for the entry fee. Learning how to use firearms was difficult at first, but they’re actually really intuitive weapons… Eh, I shot First Class Plus on my examination and after only a few weeks I started climbing to officer ranks.”
“Wow. You’re amazing.” She says with an aloof fascination.
“Yeah…” He scratches the side of his chin, his eyes giving a clear tell of awkwardness. “Not so much. It’s just a really dangerous job. People keep dying in the police, most of them either eaten, murdered, or kidnapped usually, so I’ve become a Head Captain of the Constabulary. I’m responsible for all defense in and out around the manor grounds, as well as security for Miss Irefall herself.”
Grancis flips one leg upon the other. “What do you think of her?”
He turns away in thought. “Calculating, brutal… incredibly intelligent. She tells me that ‘The wise eagle keeps her talons hidden’ all the time, and that’s a real personification of who she is. She’s very cruel
, would kill someone in a wink if it meant getting an advantage, but she’s really the kind of person that works well for a place like this- her ego in the public eye keeps her at least somewhat civil. I’ve been here years, and she’s improved things drastically the longer she’s been at the very top.”
“Wasn’t she the one that made the city? Or… I suppose, made the machine that people built onto?”
He nods coldly. “Yes, but she’s had many opponents. For a long while sea monsters from the deep would attack the chain below, or sometimes even the city itself to rile things up. Pirates, mercenaries, even the O.E.L. once.”
“I’ve heard those people are strong.”
“The O.E.L.? Yeah. Way more technology than anywhere else in the Omniverse… but she’s got things hidden away that they could never have prepared for. Now they’re ‘partners’ of sorts, don’t really know how long it’ll last, but she seems confident it’ll be a long time before they mess around on her turf again, especially with The Eye on her side.”
“…The Eye? What do you know about it?”
He looks over to the witchwood clock atop the mantlepiece and notes the time before looking back to her. “Not much, but she can be just about anything she wants to when using it. I’m telling you, you can’t beat her.”
She nods. “Thank you for your concern.”
He stares at the floor. “Nothing’s going to change your mind?”
She raises herself in her seat elegantly. “Nothing.”
He sighs, and nods in acceptance. “Alright, fine.” He presents his hand. “Then, Miss Vereyrty, allow me to wish you a blessed day.”
Grancis pauses a moment, staring at Vangair’s gloved hand, and takes it up with her own- his grip is wonderfully warm, she thinks. “Of course, Martaine. And to you.”
He takes a stand and turns for the door. “Enjoy the celebrations as best you can, I guess,” he says this with a hint of morbid humor in his voice, “but do at least keep an eye out,” he adds as he turns the knob.
“Thank you,” she says looking over to the luggage a moment as he opens the door. Pretty room or not, she doesn’t want to be alone here. “Erm, Martaine,” she says in a way that sounds somehow both casual and desperate.
He turns from the door. “Yes?”
“Do you like tea?”
He squints an eye and smirks at the side of his mouth. Grancis motions her head over to the tea-time accoutrements as if to offer some.
“I’d love some,” he says, stepping away from the door and rejoining her. While one would not dare tell the other, he is the kindest she’s met in all her months on The Eversea, and she is the loveliest he has met in all his years.
The Preparations are Completed and Two Captains of Renown Judge a small set of Masterful Dishes
Just a bit after that The Captain and Miss Irefall trot through corridor and hall with one arm upon the other as they enter the manor’s resident commons.
“-and so I spoke as though he were an unwelcome cold-caller as I got my plan ready. The poor fool is competent at what he knows, for certain, but he’s a bit weak when it comes to thinking outside the box, I’m afraid,” The Captain explains.
Miss Irefall grins wryly, a sort of ungracefulness reserved for The Captain only. “And I bet he hissed too.”
“He absolutely did hiss- it seems like all he does when he’s frustrated.”
The two share a sensible chuckle as they pass into the ballroom to find a silent squad of employees hanging up decorations with Luisoix and Tidealane arguing about a brand new, probably fairly-inconsequential topic.
“How goes it, my pets?” Irefall coos as if she really were addressing a couple of kittens.
Tidealane adjusts her dorky, extra-wide glasses. “Alright, mam, though half-watt here seems to think that gold would be a better color than silver for the main decor.”
Luisoix snaps to her with wide, murderous eyes. “That’s because it is! Gold is obviously a richer looking color! Silver would would dumb!”
Tidealane looks over to Irefall with incredible smugness. “See?”
Irefall and The Captain exchange looks themselves- they both know what the other’s thinking. “Well,” Miss Irefall says. “I do think gold would match my style better,” she says with a calm reservation.
Luisoix’s angler light sparks in shock. “Y-you agree!” He snaps back to Tidealane again. “See! She agrees! The patron should be honored in the event that she planned. Duh!”
Tidealane huffs viciously as she turns to Irefall. “My lady, with all due respect, you are a great mind, but we can all agree that you aren’t exactly the most experienced when it comes t-”
The Captain hums deeply, scarcely cutting off the insult to Irefall. All eyes are on him. “Silver would contrast better with the color scheme. Adding a gold on-top of a bronze would be sort of… tacky, I feel.”
Tidealane grins sharply as she looks to Luisoix. “Looks like The Reaper’s got some taste in decor, unlike some people.”
Luisoix growls - a surprisingly threatening sound for how tiny and adorable he is. “Right, but he isn’t the hostess.”
Her grin only becomes more distinctively punchable “Right, he’s a guest. Of course Her Ignited Mindfulness wouldn’t be so crass as to be inconsiderate as to her guest’s tastes.”
Miss Irefall shrugs haughtily, completely uneffaced. “Oh, I suppose you’re right. Silver it is.”
“Silver indeed. I’m glad you can afford me such an honor.” The Captain agrees with a dignified nod, the bandages curling up on the side of his mouth that betray his smirk.
As all three stare down Luisoix, he only shakes his head. “Sonofabitch- Yeah, fine. Silver it is.”
Irefall hums pleasantly and The Captain pats Luisoix on the shoulder. “Make it so, my good man, make it so,” he says as he trails off with Irefall.
As the two step away from the anglerfish folk, The Captain very graciously ignores Luisoix’s hand gesture from behind.
“You know it’s not nice to do that to them. They are a volatile couple, after all,” The Captain says as the two take a seat in the middle of the sizable living room.
She waves her hand dismissively as she glances out the room-length window that overlooks the entire east port. “You know this wouldn’t be nearly as fun if we didn’t. I really can’t stand him… Also, Lewis, I’ve been wondering just what you have up your sleeve.” She claps twice, and a team of servers deliver a readied set of tea to the two and pour a duo of cups.
The Captain readily takes HIS dainty little teacup and takes a sip. “You do love your beverages, don’t you?”
She smirks. “Did I really just hear that coming from you?”
He notches to the side a bit, and nods. “Hypocritical, am I? …Yes, I suppose you’re right.” He takes another satisfying sip. “So, something up my sleeve?”
She sips from her own little cup. “I drink as much as you do, I’m certain.”
“A signifier of the stresses of command, I’m afraid.” They clink cups just as they hear the horrific, frantic approach of crustacean legs. “Why, here comes my chef.”
A second after, they can also hear the angry screaming of a specifically-accented fox-man. “And mine,” Irefall adds with a smile.
The double doors burst open to reveal a firey Boris and Jim rushing in a large cart holding a wonderful-smelling pot of soup. Following right behind them and riding on another cart is Jacqui, pushed along with his dish by the surprisingly strong Cooking Minion. The Captain’s gaze locks onto Cooking Minion instantly just as Boris poses extravagantly.
“THE DINNER IS OF THE SERVING!” The lobster emits powerfully through his mighty mandibles.
Jacqui rings a nearby bell as he is slid across on the cart, signaling dinner’s preparation has been completed.
The Captain and Miss Irefall stand and The Captain carries the tea set over to the dinner table as Irefall sends for more cups. With composure completely unnatural to two who are about to engage in the
assassination of the other, they seat neatly together, Irefall taking one head of the table and The Captain right next to her.
“Could it be that Boris lent his hand in the kitchen?” Irefall asks, placing fingers against her collar as if honored.
“He offended my sense of culinary honor, your most ingeniousness,” Jacqui says with a twirl of the mustache and a perk of the ears. “Naturally I would fight to establish my superiority, Madam.” He crosses his arms with a jaunty pose as if he really did have a cooking show. “As your head chef I could never settle for being second best.”
The Captain straightens his cap and looks to Boris. “Naturally, you would be all too eager to cook.”
Boris releases the cart at the table and snaps his giant pincers with rabid excitement. “IT IS OF THE OBVIOUS, CAPTAIN MEAT. FOX MEAT IS HAVING OF THE NO IDEA OF THE UP HE’S AGAINSTING!”
Irefall smirks. “Pardon me?”
The Captain leans to her side. “Forgotten to speak Boris, have we?”
She turns away sheepishly. “O-of course not! Lewis, he’s just a bit… exotic, that’s all! It’s been a good while.”
The Captain could say something pretty rude, but he’s a gentlesomething, so he’ll keep off. “Exotic indeed,” he says as the doors open for a straight tall Vangair and a relaxed-looking Grancis.
“Good evening, everyone!” Grancis says with an honest youthfulness that the crew rarely catches a glimpse of, The Captain isn’t a big fan of that tone, at least not in a professional setting.
“Good evening, Miss Vereyrty.” He draws back elegantly. “I suppose you’ve been made comfortable in your room?”
She nods, and The Captain notices her grip tighten on Officer Vangair’s arm- The Captain downright dislikes this. “The service has been incredibly hospitable, sir. Mar- uh, Mister Vangair has been wonderfully helpful.”
Martaine bows his head while he peels her hands off his arm gently. “All part of the position. Happy to help, miss.” He stands at attention after leading her to a chair, just down two and across from The Captain. Jim takes his seat next to her, and then a sulking Colette appears-something’s off about her, The Captain thinks, as if she’s seen something strange.
