“Just up ahead,” Cork said, taking down a lantern off the wall and leading Ewan to the floor below; the stretched corridor at the stairs end had a couple of closed doors on both sides.
“Slaves, right? Why’d you keep them up there?” Ewan asked, minding his head on the low arch. “Shouldn’t they be on the bottom deck?”
“We got a nasty bunch this round,” Cork said, taking out a ring with bunch of keys from his overcoat. “They might poke a hole in ma baby if I let’em and drown us. Don’t worry, the stench won't reach ya.” He grinned and opened the door to a room on the right side; the gate creaked open, and the stuffy waft blended with the must. It was a compact compartment with a bed and a table, and the round glass window let some light in. Spiders patrolled their cobwebs in the corners, and a thick layer of dust and salt sheeted the floor and the furniture—their presence commented on the lack of care, the room hadn’t seen any guest in a good while.
“How’s it?” Cork asked, letting Ewan enter.
“Good enough,” Ewan said. “Thanks again.” He shook hands with the captain.
“Top deck’s open, feel free to walk around. Just don’t go below, ma boys are a bit touchy about their space,” he said. “Someone’ll send ya food soon, our cook’s mighty good, you’ll like it for sure. Rest up, room’s all yours till we see land.”
…….
Ewan rid the room of the dirt and the spiders, changed clothes, replaced the dusty and salty bedsheet with his own, and took a nap on the bed while Orange and Toast guarded him. His sheet smelled sun dried, it was the scent of home, and it comforted him. He curled up and drifted off with a smile.
The sole glass window brightened the room as the sun rose to its peak, dust specks floating in the pillars of light. The knock on the door dragged Ewan back. “Yeah?” he asked, yawning and stretching with a comfortable groan, wrinkling the sheets.
“Captain told me to bring you food,” a childlike voice answered.
“Put it on the table,” Ewan said, opening the door. Orange and Toast already went inside the rune and the tattoo. “Thank the captain for me.”
Ewan sat on the bed. “What’s your name?” he asked. It was a boy, too young to be on this ship—his voice had barely broken, and his face was hairless.
“Kidd, sir,” the boy said, chancing a glance at the food and gulping as he removed the cloche. The tips of his messy beige hair brushed his ears, his ashen irises mirrored the bread, faint charcoal streaks ran over his cheeks and nose. And he clothed a fair tank top that had turned coal-black and cuffed and belted khaki trousers that was too long and too roomy for him.
“Your parents couldn’t find a better name?” Ewan chuckled.
“I was born on the ship, and everyone just called me ‘kid’, so Cork named me Kidd, with an extra ‘d’.” He took another peek at the food and his nose twitched.
“So, what do you do here?”
“Chores. I’m trying to join the crew officially, but Cork won't let me,” Kidd said, hanging his head down and flicking the non-existent pebble with his toe.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“You must know the routes then?” Ewan asked.
“I know a lot of things.” Kidd puffed his bony chest, his ribs jutting out the sides. “I can reach places no one else can, I’m the smartest on the ship.”
Ewan lifted his brows and his lips curled into a playful smile. It could be dangerous if he ditched payment with
“Have you eaten yet?” he asked.
“N-No,” Kidd said, gulping with his eyes on the food again.
“Come, eat with me. It’s too much, I can't eat it all.”
“I-I shouldn’t disturb you, sir,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it. Come, sit,” Ewan said.
Kidd sat on the bed beside him while Ewan dragged the table to them, the grating wooden legs rumbling in the room. Freshly baked bread with meat stew and grilled fish and veggies on the side, the dish looked appetizing enough.
“Dig in.”
Kidd hesitated for a few seconds but soon assaulted the food. He ripped the bread, drowned it into the stew, and stuffed his mouth, shoving some grilled fish after.
“Slowly, you’ll choke,” Ewan said. “Do they not feed you?”
“If’s espeshially mafe for you,” Kidd said, or at least tried to with his cheeks puffed to their limits, spitting bits of food everywhere. “If’s too fasty.”
Ewan smiled and poured him a glass of water. Even if they spiked the food, it wasn’t the quick acting type.
Kidd swallowed and tore another piece of bread.
“So, where’re we going?” Ewan asked when his mouth was empty, before he could scarf again.
“Drarith, it’s our hometown. We’ll reach in a couple of weeks.”
“Nice name,” Ewan said. “Tell me about this place, how do they treat outsiders?”
“You’ll fit right in,” Kidd said, cramming his mouth. “Lots of foreign Ashevas come to Drarith, it’s the only port city around.”
……
The information just oozed out of Kidd nonstop, it was far too easy. Ewan’s smile vanished and he reined back all thoughts about exploring the boy for more info. He was a blabbermouth; the captain must’ve known that. Ewan didn’t even need to use
Ewan frowned; he was confident in his presumption—the boy wasn’t the deceiving type. If he was, he was a master at it, which was the unlikely case. Perhaps he was being too careful… No, it was best to remain cautious. If the captain inferred his actions, then using
Enthrall!
----------------------------------------
Status: Healthy
Step-0 [7th Awakening]
Name: Ewan Ayres
Species: Human
Vitality: 1.8
Spirit: 14.2
Anima: [Fire – 14.2 | Ice – 14.2 | Blood – 14.2]
Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [7th Awakening]
----------------------------------------
Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
----------------------------------------
Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-B]
----------------------------------------
Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-6] [Grade-C]
Equipment: Common Clothes; Yurn [Neck Gaiter].
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.
Novas: 113
Crelith: 4984