As the life of Sam faded to the otherworld, Jay'Ky could only feel conflicted as he applied first aid to himself. The man who he tried to kill weeks before for being defiant towards authority, now is his savior, truly a poetic justice if not for the underlying feeling of shame he felt. Being saved by a slave, allowing himself to be jumped by a pirate, being outsmarted, outplayed, outgunned… If not for the Wood Elf's assistance (albeit by coincidence), Jay would not have survived to tell the tale.
Neuge saw as the Eldorians killed the Pirate allies they had, one by one, not leaving room for a respite or even allowing them a proper goodbye. With a somber look, he just lowered his gaze, waiting his turn, his ears buzzing with the screams, shots and agony. He never really stood a chance if they had all this resources to spend in this battle. He will die in the same way his country did, forgotten and unremarkable. The bullet met the back of his head eventually, not that anyone was bothering to notice that.
Zagul, as he reloaded the pistol in his hand, looked for Connor as he checked for survivors in the slaves. He wasn't in the numbers of dead, that he was certain, but he wasn't where he was either. The battle became so unstable and chaotic that he lost track of Donovan and Yuri as well. Way further as he walked through the many corpses, holes of explosions and the carcasses of the previous animals, he found the Wood Elf, sitting down on the ground in front of a pistol, with no readable expression on his face.
“First time?”, Zagul asked, already guessing why Connor is like this.
The first time killing someone will leave a mark, one that will remain with that person even if they managed to move on to better or more important things. Whatever the reason they do it, it will mold their morals, codes and beliefs, a dogma that can't be changed easily especially with someone as thick skulled as Connor. Hopefully, thanks to the context of the fight as he used the gun to presumedly to save another person, he might have a brighter look at this than other people Zagul knows.
“Second.”, Connor answered, facing Zagul with the same expressionless face as before, “Same situation, different people.”
Zagul's eyes widened slightly at the claim, “You already…?”
“To save Serenity.”, The Boxer interrupted, “Not that it helped that time.”
The Lacerta looked at the Guard of the noblewoman, alive but barely, “You saved his life at least. C'mon, let's get back to the mountain—”
As soon as Zagul put a hand on Connor's shoulder, he backed off hastily, hugging himself as he put himself leaned on a tree. He quickly stopped hugging himself, only to try doing it again, conflicted if he should calm himself, much to Zagul's confusion. Despite the lack of facial expressions, he was shaking, his pupils dilating and coming back to normal like a flickering light, probably with his mind racing to give any possible rational explanation to what he did. That confused the Lacerta even more, since the Wood Elf was totally fine in punching and insulting, but using a gun made him quiver like this.
Yuri ran towards them, huffing and puffing before speaking, “Is my boy alright?”
Zagul looked at Connor, then at Yuri, “See it for yourself.
Yuri didn't need to properly see Connor to find that the answer was a no.
Donovan arrived, but passed them as he got closer to Jay’Ky and the corpse of the Sharpshooter. He gave a quick prayer for the poor man as his body lay there on the ground. He then turned to the Magna, who was unable to get himself up thanks to his wounds. Jay didn't really have the right to refuse, so he just swallowed his pride for now and accepted the gesture, even more so because Donovan was genuinely trying to use his Faith to heal him, even if just to lessen the pain.
“Orïvah Weerling, may thy have mercy and compassion…”, Donovan rambled as he gave a helping shoulder.
On the other side, everyone gathered around the corpse as a few Marines got to the horses and reported the results of the battle. The Captain and Quartermaster were having a great argument, totally civilized and orderly conversation.
“What the hell were you thinking, Richardson?!”, Zhivko shouted in anger and utter disbelief, “How on the World did you think this was a good idea!?”
“I could not predict such outcomes!”, The Foreman rebuked, “I am no genie who can cast foresight! And even if I could, I would have planned around this! Not divert the plan!”
“Then you are more foolish than you look.”, The Captain put his finger on Richardson's chest, “There is a reason why you are a businessman, not a Quartermaster.”
“Choose your words very carefully, Zhivko.”, The Foreman frowned, feeling insulted for something that wasn't wrong. After all, Richardson didn't really have any experience on the field and it's unpredictability. But the fact that the outcome was somewhat positive should have some value.
“Enough of your nonsense!”, Captain Polanski said loud enough for anyone to hear, “I revoke your rank of Quartermaster! This is out of discussion!”
The crew was surprised, but also not. They really didn't want Richardson to continue his role after everything that happened, even more so with the consequences of his actions all the way back in Eldora. They could've just used the main route towards Vyzar, not getting close to Tenure and its stupid Islands, but the Foreman insisted on going there. There was room for theories but really, the only conceivable motive would be to take the riches of the Pirates killed today. It maybe is too much of a bother to look for the other two hideouts, but the one of the Dragonkin was right there.
Unfortunately for Richardson, he didn't really have the authority to go there and take it anymore.
Gritting his teeth, the Foreman just nodded, “As you wish, Captain.”
----------------------------------------
A week later, halfway through the Arno Sea
The healer was safe, but now had a load of people to treat and take care of. Almost everyone that was at the ships served as Medical Assistants as he worked on everyone that fought on the battlefield, the most jarring and fatal cases being the Magna and a few other marines. Fynsell found the outcome of Jay's fight terrifying as she took a close inspection on every treatment and procedure reserved for him. No one was even arguing that the guy was at the top of the priority list, as his wounds were the most severe, despite the fact that everyone else still had bullets lodged in them.
Rumors quickly circulated that Fynsell ordered Jay to “save them”, which was not particularly true, but it happened regardless of intent. The True Elf was not eager in saving, but was very much eager in saving time for Richardson's incompetence as he thought this plan of his was going well. She was now more worried at the health of her guard than at anything else at the moment, an act that was noticed by Zagul and Co, aside from Connor who remained quiet all this time.
Richardson was told to wait at his personal room at the Brigantine as Zhivko took care of the Land Cargo they needed in order to leave this forsaken place of the Gods. No good can come out of shady business like these. Thankfully the marines thought the same and did quick work as they traveled from the mountain range towards the nearest river, loading the cargo on the ships and sailing away with no one wanting a souvenir.
The mood at the ship was not of a party, not even a reunion between friends. The crew spoke only when necessary and didn't do much small talk either, everyone still with fresh memories of the battle they witnessed or were told of. An Artificer and an Alchemist, then Jay and the Alchemist, two battles that would carve their minds on what it means to have even the slightest amount of magic. The Magna was basically the hero of the ship, everyone asking the healer to use his magic to make him better, although not as easily doable as his Éter was running out. Even Connor stopped getting his usual check-ups thanks to that, but thankfully his leg was way better than before, even not needing the help of his cane to walk anymore. Still, the healer dutifully worked as the Magna slowly recovered not only his body but his consciousness, as the healer applied some painkillers that gave Jay the side effect of somnolency.
He woke up, much to Fynsell's glee.
“By the Gods… what a headache…”, He said in pain as he held his head, not really feeling like leaving his laid down position.
“[Jay! Finally you woke up!]”, The Noblewoman almost came too close to the Magna, showing a bit too much of her worries for a split second.
“[My Lady.]”, He gave a weak smile as his eyes slowly adapted to the sunlight and his nostrils adapted to the teary air.
With a hand in her chest and a sigh of relief, Fynsell got herself together as she sat on a chair in the private room, “[I am so glad you are alive. I didn't think you'd get in so much trouble in that fight.]”
Jay snorted, “[You almost sound like you mean to say I couldn't handle it.]”
“[You barely didn't.]”, She reminded with a frown, “[We need to stay together and be more careful. You are the only person I trust here.]
The Guard finally sat down, noticing his lack of wearing armor, but hey, that's kinda obvious given the situation, “[Yeah. I barely made it.]”
“[I forgive you.]”, She said as she gave a playful punch to his arm.
“[Ouch.]”
“[But what happened?]”, Fynsell asked, now intrigued by how the battle went.
“[Well, I arrived there and punched the soyboy. He got mad and tried shooting me with his gun, but thanks to my Martial Arts I doubled down on my advantage. He then used his Alchemy to make quick work of me, using explosive bullets and whatnot.]”, Jay explained as Fynsell used a teapot to serve tea for the both of them.
“[Sounds charming.]”, The She-Elf said sarcastically, “[Effective at leaving an impactful impression.]”
“[Haha.]”, Jay shrugged it off, “[He then exploded the ground as I got familiar with his tactics, changed the shape of his rifle to shoot more bullets somehow and used bullets that can travel faster than I could even see.]”
Fynsell gave a cup for Jay as they both drank the contents in it.
“[Isn't a bullet speed already higher than what normal people can see?]”
“[You know what I meant.]”, Jay's eyelids closed slightly in annoyance.
“[Then what?]”, She said as the teacup was coming near her lips.
“[You won't like it.]”
That was unusual. Jay never really wanted to hide information about… anything. Seeing him like that was not a good sign, as he told it himself.
“[Go on.]”, The Noblewoman’s face of care and friendliness changed to a more aristocratic one, her voice hinting an order behind her focused look.
Jay sighed, “[We had a stalemate. I couldn't get near him without risking getting shot and at the same time, couldn't close the gap in one go thanks to the distance he put between us.]”
“[But…?]”
He hesitated for a brief second, “[The Wood Elf got his attention, almost getting shot. That gave me enough of a window to attack the Sharpshooter but not enough for me to not get attacked myself. Then when I was almost getting killed, he saved my life, shooting him before he could kill me.]”
The teacup stopped, reversing course and being slowly and gently put back at the table, “[He saved you?]”
“[Told you wouldn't like it.]”
Fynsell's expression hardened. "[And why wouldn't I like that?]" she asked, her voice tinged with a controlled edge.
Jay looked down at his teacup, the steam curling up between them. "[Because it means I wasn't strong enough. I relied on someone else to survive.]"
"[Surviving is what matters, Jay. It's not about who did it alone or who needed help. It's about living to fight another day,]" she replied, leaning forward slightly.
Jay shook his head. "[I know, but in this world, strength is everything. If I can't protect you or myself, what good am I?]”
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Fynsell frowned even more, not really hiding her anger. Sure it was Connor who saved him and that gave her mixed feelings, but whether she liked it or not, it was because of him that Jay'Ky is alive. If a Wood Elf just dropped the grudge Fynsell thought they had then who cares about it? Jay? What does he want to prove? That just didn't sit right with her and she honestly didn't want to deal with this.
“[Take your time to rest. We will arrive at Caeledrisc soon.]”
Jay was left in the room, the warmth of the teacup not being as enjoyable as before.
As Fynsell closed the door and walked in the ship's hallways, a lot of things passed in her mind, things that did and didn't make sense, some things that bothered and didn't bother her, her objective, her mission, her duty, her country… her state of mind, her likes, benefits and any other stuff to try explain why she feels as if this sailing, this business trip was anything but a waste of time. She didn't feel happy for… a long time and this whole event in her life solidified this feeling. And again, the thought surfaced:
“Why am I even doing all of this?”
She was so focused on her own that she didn't notice that she walked into the kitchen that most of the Marines use, unlike the one she normally used. The sight of the Wood Elf was a sore in her ego, the many things she wanted to say or do to him, both positive and negative, although mostly negative. Connor was eating a loaf of bread, slowly munching the pieces as the offals fell from his mouth. She looked puzzled at the man who had an aura of confidence and defiance last week only to show… nothing right now. Such a remarkable person leaving no noticeable presence was odd.
She huffed as she looked at the window, the waves and tides doing their job. The True Elf sat down, trying to calm down, rationalize her problems.
“Tough day, right?”, Connor said, finally aware of the She-Elf.
Fynsell looked at the slave, then lowered her gaze. What should she say right now?
“That happens. For me the last year and a half was… stupidly infuriating.”, He said between gulping the bread, “Honestly I wish that… actually nevermind.”
She looked at him again, this time, noting some things she missed. For one, the lack of a cane by his side, showing that his leg must've recovered enough. The absolute lack of any facial expressions and the lack of emotion in his voice. That made something that was odd become weird now, since it was not a challenge at all to say what emotion Connor was feeling by his voice alone. The face just left no room for error in her guess.
“That happens, you say.”, She said after a pause, not showing a good time of voice, “I doubt you'd understand the scope of the problems I have.”
“I guess you are right.”, He admitted, biting again the bread, “Only you can possibly know what you are going through. Others can only have a glimpse or a general idea of what, but now how.”
This was surprisingly philosophical of him, then again, a Wood Elf he is. Which made Fynsell frown, but her curiosity was peeked too.
“How can you affirm that?”, She said as she sat in front of the slave, now with slight concern as she saw his face.
“Hmmm. Every person is different, with different problems, different upbringings and different personalities.”, Connor said the most obvious part first, “That is both what makes everyone similar while at the same time so different from one another. Speaking theoretically, I am capable of understanding what you are going through, but I am not you, so I can never truly feel or know what you are going through right now. I don't know how you think, what does it make you feel, how you act, how you solve your problems if they are solved in a manner you like or even solved at all. Just to name a few things.”
Connor said as he looked at his plate, taking his time eating the rest of the available food. He sounded and looked like he was explaining a topic he has heard so much that he doesn't even bother in giving emphasis or emotion to his face and voice, which transformed the weird vibe of the room into outright creepy.
“Have you killed someone before?”
Fynsell looked at him, his eyes begging for an answer. She freezed at the question because, yes, her actions might've led to other people being killed, even if her decision wasn't explicitly to kill someone.
Putting her hands together he answered, “Yes. I did.”
“With your own hands?”
She almost did, but was stopped by Jay'Ky before she could. Jay never explained why she couldn't, but it was so far behind her past that she doesn't even remember who was the one she tried to kill. Maybe a lesser politician? Or a merchant who tried to take advantage of her family's name? Then she remembered that she didn't really have any happiness protecting the name of the Nyëthilhand, so she quickly got back to answer the Wood Elf.
“No. I wanted to, but they stopped me before I could.”, Fynsell said, her sharp eyes noticing that Connor was… disappointed. Why?
“I see.”
“...You killed someone before?”, The Noblewoman asked, the silence making her ask out of awkwardness.
“I did, yeah.”, He leaned against his chair, “Saved my love from the hands of a bandit. The asshole tried to make her his hostage.”
Fynsell didn't really care the much about him, but the fact he killed to save someone's life, that raised the opinion she had over him. Even so, why does it seem like he was… profoundly scarred?
“Was it the first time you did it?”
He hummed affirmatively, “That didn't stop Serenity from dying though. Have you held someone you loved in your arms, bleeding, with absolutely no power or control over the situation?”
“Gods, no! I've never… I don't even want that to happen to me…”, This conversation went from 0 to 100 real quick, Fynsell was feeling even more discomfort at this point.
“Neither did I, but it happened.”, Connor drinked a bottle of rum, “Doesn't taste that good to be honest. Anyway, I managed to face that past and move on, thanks to my friends. But I killed someone again last week. I didn't know his name nor I ever will, didn't know what he liked, his family or whatever fact about him, but that made me remember again that day, my first kill.”
Fynsell raised a brow as she hugged herself, “Your point being?”
“I know what I need to do. What I have to work on, what I have to abandon and so on and so forth. But what about you?”, Connor pointed at her.
“Me?”
“What do you want to do? That thing that you have a burning passion for that not a single thing can extinguish it? That thing that you love to do so much that when you sit down to do it, time seems to flow as you work? A thing that you resonate so deeply with that everything else seems dull compared to it?”
That took her off guard…
Fynsell's mind went blank for a moment. She hadn't thought about her passions in years, not since she took on the heavy responsibilities of her role. Her days were consumed with duty, expectations, and the relentless pursuit of goals set by others, but mostly what she felt she needed to do to prove her worth.
"I... I don't know," she admitted quietly, almost to herself.
Connor's eyes softened, showing the first hint of emotion she had seen from him since entering the kitchen. "That's something worth figuring out. Without that, all of this," he gestured around them, indicating the ship, the mission, the entire situation, "is just a series of tasks, not a life.”
Fynsell looked down at her hands, feeling a strange mix of shame and revelation. "I haven't felt passionate about anything in a long time. It's all been about doing what's expected of me."
"Expectations can be a heavy burden," Connor said. "But they aren't the same as passion. They won't fuel you when everything else falls apart. You need something more."
"How did you find yours?" she asked, genuinely curious.
Connor frowned, "I didn't find it. It found me. I needed to lose a lot in order to figure it out, something I don't really recommend you go through.”
Fynsell took a deep breath, absorbing his words. For the first time in a long while, she felt a spark of something within her. Hope, maybe? Or perhaps just the beginning of a long-overdue journey of self-discovery. She let a chuckle escape her throat, since it was Connor who said that to her. He didn't hold any resentment towards her even after the Chess game, he just wanted to focus on himself.
“I respect you, Connor.”, She said with a smile, a small honest smile.
“Amen to that.”, He lifted his rum, “Just remember to search for something that makes your heart beat faster.”
“Now that I think of it, what makes yours beat faster?”, Fynsell asked before leaving the kitchen.
“Well, before I just wanted to protect myself, then I wanted to win, no matter the cost. But now, fighting is about me understanding me. So I'd say Fighting.”, He said as he finally showed a smile.
Fynsell let out another chuckle, “Thank you. I have a lot to think about.”
As she left the kitchen, the ship's hallways felt a little less oppressive, and her thoughts a little clearer. There was a long road ahead, but for the first time, she felt she might be able to find her way.
----------------------------------------
Night, Ship's deck
Yuri was taking the role of unofficial quartermaster by the Zhivko's orders since the Aborigine was the most chill, level headed and likable person in the entire fleet. Of course that was somewhat against the norm thanks to Yuri being a slave, but no one gave a flying fuck about it. Yuri did suggest Zagul for the task but was refused immediately. That confused him but he didn't ask any questions, no point in doing that.
Zhivko was currently doing a full report of Richardson's performance (or lack thereof) in his room, the Foreman himself being absent from the deck as he was still bitter about the whole thing. Who can't blame him? He almost killed everyone by doing this stupid plan of his, better keep tabs on him and throw the key away. Anyway, Yuri is now on the helm, casually changing directions to better favor the wind on the sails as much as possible. Not long after, The Lacerta appeared right next to him.
“It sure is cold.”, Zagul commented, hugging himself to save some amount of heat.
“Hey, I told ya autumn's a pain, but we're like a week from winter. We might get snow when we hit Vyzar, but I really hope not.”, Yuri said as he put a hand in the air, the breeze freezing the nails of his fingers.
“I am not as affected by it, but still enough is enough.”, Zagul agreed.
“I hate snow. It just makes me wanna stay in bed all day.”
“Same.”
“How's it going with Don?”, The human changed the subject, eager to see the both of them get along.
“It's going well, I must say. He is helpful, always looking forward to doing something for us.”, Zagul's eyes softened, “Maybe the time he had in Askar did something to him, so he needs to prove himself.”
“Nah, not it.”, Yuri quickly dismissed it, “Donovan's the type who'll do what's right. He knows our deal and what's on the line, so he'll do whatever he can for us and himself. We’re not exactly free, and his so-called friends took off as soon as he didn't come through.”
“So what's your verdict?”
“I'd say he's just as set on getting his freedom as Connor is.”, He said plainly but quietly since they aren't exactly hidden, “Speaking off, how's my boy doin?”
“I don't know.”, Zagul frowned at his inability to judge how Connor is, “He looks distant but at the same time ever thinking.”
“I hope he doesn't go back to what he was back in Koloss. That was enough for a lifetime.”
Just remembering the sight made them shiver. The cold breeze helped a bit, but still.
“I'll go check him.”, The Lacerta said as he entered the inside of the ship.
“Please do.”
The search didn't go much further before something else peeked up his curiosity. As Zagul walked on the hallways, he saw Richardson complaining to himself at first, but then saw that he was actually justifying himself to Fynsell. That was out of character for him since he would never apologize like that, so this Vyzar client is really important for Eldora. And since it was the She-Elf the one that represented said client, there was a lot to hear about and The Lacerta was not going to miss the latest gossip on the ship.
“As I stated before, it wasn't in my plans to have the battlefield be as out of control as it did, my Lady.”, Richardson seemed apologetic, but was showing a stern look, probably annoyed that the excuse wasn't working out.
Well, it really wasn't since Fynsell didn't trust Richardson since they first met, but at least the Noblewoman was hiding her true opinions really well, Zagul had to admit.
“You said this route was safe when we left the Eldorian Docks. You took responsibility for it and now that the consequences have come, you want to just get a pardon?”, Fynsell asked, her voice incredulous from start to finish, “Your crew suffered great losses, there is an immeasurable amount of stress in the fleet, you negotiated with pirates, mismanaged the resources of said fleet and barely managed to win that battle on the Tenure Islands. Are you really thinking straight or have you gone mad thanks to your stupidity?”
Richardson clenched his jaw, his pride clearly wounded by Fynsell's harsh words. "I admit my miscalculations, Lady Fynsell," he said, forcing calm into his voice. "But I have learned from my mistakes. The fleet will not suffer the same errors again.
"Fynsell narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Words are easy, Richardson. It's your actions that have brought us to this precarious position. Your assurances mean little without evidence of change."
Before Richardson could respond Zagul decided to leave. It was amusing at first but he has better things to do than keep an eye on a delusional ever-planning Foreman.
After a few opened doors, Connor was found near the bunk beds… throwing punches in the air.
“Connor?”, The Lacerta voiced his puzzlement, “What are you doing?”
“Training.”, He answered, never stopping throwing his punches.
Zagul raised an eyebrow, watching Connor with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "Training for what exactly?"
Connor paused, his breath heavy and sweat beading on his forehead. "For whatever comes next. Can't afford to be caught off guard again."
Zagul nodded slowly, understanding the underlying tension. "It's good to stay prepared, but you need to rest too. Exhausting yourself won't help anyone, especially after recovering from that leg injury.”
There was more to it than Connor was actually telling. He wanted to shift his focus, concentrate on something so that he would stop thinking about the gun he used. The only way he found out to reasonably do it was to work his fundamentals to the point he did it subconsciously, so he started throwing jabs and straights as he used his footwork in his shadow boxing. From the looks of it, Zagul could only guess that he has just started doing it.
Zagul sighed but didn't press further. He knew Connor had his own way of dealing with things, even if convoluted. “Just don't overdo it,” he advised, turning to leave.
----------------------------------------
Yuri was on the helm, whistling as he watched the moonlight lit the sea. He spotted a weird ship far away, going towards Petruvia, or what he judged to be the direction to that continent. The ship was weird like it was made of spoiled wood and ragged sails with a green underlying aura surrounding it.
He rubbed his eyes and the ship was still there but… better presentable? Weird.
“Guess I need to hit the bed.”