765 Hippocampus Rush
*Captain Connor*
Connor waited for Trevor all night, even as Manuk’s throne floats from behind the line where the Angora Sea and sky meadows. He stood awake, observing the maps strewn about his desk in his captain’s quarters. His quarters had the space of a desk covered with his maps and senseless scribbles, an alchemy table with shelves full of his tools and resources, a bed nailed to the ground that he barely lay on based on how unwrinkled the sheets were, a nailed down brown couch for two that he’d often rested on, and a chest right at the foot of the bed. The chest is used to store his shirts and anything difficult to hang on a wire. His cloak and utility belt were hung up with wires to save space in his limited floor plan. Next to his desk is a bookcase filled with souvenirs of his travels, from the shackles of when he escaped Alabast prison to a lone worthless crystal he got from descending the deepest cavern to get an alchemical ingredient. This captain had all the maps, from pointing to the circulation of the sea to pinpointing alchemy resources strewn on top of his desk. The most important map was tucked beneath another plain one, this one he had out and read the handwriting he left behind for himself. The symbols all mean something, points of interest he likes to visit to mysteries he’d like to uncover.
‘The Trail Artifacts’ is poorly labeled at multiple points on this map. A reminder to himself what his goal truly is, everything else becomes secondary.
Pounding sounds forced him out of his studies, shifting the map beneath the other plain one. Besides Gash, no one else on this ship has ever seen his specially crafted map. This means when he invites anyone in, this map is safely tucked away in layers of his other work. His layer of work is growing each day out at sea.
“COME IN.” Connor commanded, and quickly entered one apathetic male.
“I’ve returned, captain.” Trevor bowed his head; his hair was kept swept back but a few black strands stuck out on his face. Like a lot of them on this ship, the salt and sun dried out their skin and hair. It is too much of a luxury to treat it at times, but the most people will do is cut it short again.
Either they’ll cut it short for each other or people like Jerold who has a wife at home that will happily take over the task. Jerold brags about it all the time, saying his wife has the most tender touch across the Angoran seas. That man romanticizes anything simple that revolves around his wife and six kids.
Connor wouldn’t know much about it; he’d always kept his friendships at varied distances. There may never be a day when he takes on a spouse. Never was his goal, since his current one might put him in an earlier grave. He couldn’t justify an intimate relationship with that simple possibility, besides all his energy is on these maps.
“What have you found, Trevor?” Connor inquired, leaning back on his chair. The cushion croaked beneath him, telling him he might do well to look for a new chair or pilfer one from other ships.
“That steed wasn’t the only one.” Trevor laid it out thickly, he wasn’t the type to beat around the bush, which Connor could greatly appreciate.
That crazy woman... Connor composed his features; it wasn’t the time. “How many?”
“Hard to say since that involves finding the Death Twister’s stables. But all these beasts had precious cargo on them and had to be spooked to end at every corner of the town. Some of the steeds lost their cargo. Chances are the culprit being the locals that found them first. ”
One person snuck out valuables on Keldio steeds, they managed to gather the goods and used multiple steeds as shipment. They proceeded to spook the herd of keldio steeds into a stampede. They did this in the middle of the night when no one had their guard up.
Connor is starting to believe Trevor’s story of a Krax that used domesticated animals to trample a town to the ground.
“Captain...does this have something to do with that Krax woman?”
“Possibly.” It’s hard to believe she would be capable of all that on her own. However, he saw her expertise covering her traces and losing her pursuers. Her skills are exactly what she needs to survive the jungle. It might be easier now since none of her pursuers could follow her scent.
And at that speed, she ran as if she had the fires of Manuk below her footpads.
The Captain of Nightmare Maiden cannot ignore her any longer.
“Well...you better hurry, captain. Last, I heard a few Death Twisters talking about catching her.”
You could’ve said that sooner. Connor scoffs, getting out of his seat and grabbing his hanging utility belt and jacket. He was foolish to think he had a lot of time to act, a small misstep, but it seems he is making a lot of those when it came to this woman. He had his weapons strapped to him last before barking his next orders, “You’re dismissed. Have Ruffin take over the investigations.”
“Aye aye...” Trevor shook his head, whether he disagreed with his captain’s involvement in the Krax wouldn’t matter to Connor. Captain Connor wasn’t exactly in a listening mood.
The retired executioner left the cabin with nothing else to add. He made certain to close the door behind him. Connor grabbed the completed alchemy bottle, all varied in properties, but he was hoping that it would never come down to it.
Once satisfied with the battle prepping, he marched out of the cabin and locked the door behind him. He plans to go straight to the orphanage. After all, he didn’t believe that Krax woman would be anywhere else. In fact, he promised to meet her there at some point just that she wouldn’t suspect this early or that he knew anything about the golden loot keldio stampede. Connor must ask her how she pulled it off without alerting the guards when things do calm down...
When things calm down... He’s being foolish again. As soon this is over, he will be cutting ties with this woman. That is the right thing to do.
Connor’s assurance to that seems to be questioned in his own mind, he can handle the suspicion of both Gash and Trevor. Nevertheless, if his mind started backtracking on anything, he wouldn’t jump into the fray. Observe then act, his master would say.
Just that right now, he isn’t following his own status quo. Connor managed his way through the depths of the tiny town and to the section where he last found the Krax and the young man. He almost became disappointed not seeing either one, standing in the center of the street and peeking at each front facing buildings there.
Surely the Vicar wasn’t walking far with a train of children like that. He was certain when he noticed one of these buildings stood out from the rest, with wooden toys left behind on the ground and the effigies of the famous Chemuk elements hanging above the door. A lot of Moarin religious places have these symbols to show their devotion to the rest. The symbols have many uses. For the everyday town folk, they perceive these symbols as a sign of worship.
For Captain Connor, they are perfect landmarks. If he ever gets turned around in a town, he just needs to find these places of worship since they always face the direction of the ocean. Chemuk is a god that lives in the seas. The effigies always faced the sea.
This one is no different. It was tilted to the left, this building’s left. The three main elements; rock and air; twisted over the symbol of water. The symbols he remembered bowing his head as a child, only told to pray or revel underneath it but never given proof that it does anything. He stopped as soon as he could, ignoring even this one as he straight away knocked on the door.
The door is worse to wear, creaking beneath each knock. Connor made sure to study it and understand each bug hole or crack as a sign of poverty and lacked the skilled individual that could fix it. If his ship repairer ever saw this, Iggy would have gone on his way to fixing such a door out of pure obsession.
“Oh my. I’m coming.” The voice of an older individual answered. The sounds of strained shuffling, and children hollering questions behind the shuffling suggested someone else he had not yet met lived here.
The door shook open inward, an older woman with the holy regalia of the Three Gods Church stood at the entrance. He noticed how her spotted hands quaked with the weakness of her age, grasping the door open to keep her balance. At least those kind eyes of hers glistened with a jovial kindness, there were two children gripping at her hemming and gawking at Connor.
“Grace Risa!? That’s the man the Vicar was talking about.” Whispered one, not so quietly. Possibly a six-year-old who doesn’t know how to be quiet.
“Grace! Whea said earlier-!”
“Shush, children. That is not how you greet someone at the door. Welcome. Young man. Are you the one my child is expecting?” Grace wasn’t that shy around Connor to have a side bar correction, cracking a smile that spread the wrinkles on her face soon after. Her framed glasses slid down to the tip of her nose, and with one shaky hand she fixed it in place.
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“That I am, Grace. Connor is my name. By chance, is she here?” Connor wasn’t trying to hide his identity with these people, finding the poorer someone was the least likely to go around spouting lest it meant getting paid. The people of the church practice secure confidentiality when they aren’t corrupted.
Vicar Jal and this Grace Risa don’t seem corrupted. Connor’s goal didn’t involve hiding his identity anyway.
“Thought it will be a long time before that feisty child ever gets a visitor. Come in! I’ll fetch us some tea! Luan. Wenrys. Why don’t you go look for Rhea?”
“Ok Grace!” chimed the two that hung by her side. They bounded inside to do exactly as asked.
There is no time. He’d open his mouth to decline the hospitality, but the old woman had a strange knack of persuasion or selective hearing with every twitch to decline. She was already moving to the kitchen, and she prepared a cup. The tea kettle sat steaming from its spout just at the counter. Upon entering the place, it is small. There was no real complexity to it, he’d walk through the front door and find himself in the first section of this abode. The first two glaring issues are how small it is for the occupancy of thirteen individuals and all the furniture crammed close to the center so that there is an illusion of space. The children in this room took their seats because there wasn’t any other option. He really wasn’t as prepared for the stare down he would receive from six different varying shaped eyes. So far, he had only been able to count eight children. Where are the other two?
Grace Risa wobbled over to the table with a cup in both hands, she set it down and became very insistent despite their difference in power. “Take a seat, young man.”
Connor shoved down any reluctance. For one reason, these people didn’t have a lot based on what he sees now. Another reason is that he had to appear less hostile. These kids were whispering very loudly about him, all not in a good light.
“Whea said not to talk to him! Sailors are tricky”
“He got a scary face!?”
“His face is getting scarier!?”
“He looks so small...”
What has she been saying about me? Connor did keep his emotions in check, but his brow did twitch occasionally. Apparently, his lack of reaction was rewarded by a rather annoyed holy woman.
“Children!”
“Sorry mister!” Chimed the oldest child in the rotation, big buck teeth poking beneath the glum pout.
“No offense taken,” Not mad at you at least. Connor took the cup of tea to his mouth, ignoring the cracked ceramic shape. If he wasn’t so duty bound, he might’ve stripped off his icy exterior, he was always kinder towards the children. Children didn’t cause war or destruction; they don’t deserve his icier front.
The stomping noise grew loud in another room. He could hear it between the thin wooden walls. It sounds just like someone running down a set of steps.
Steps? From the outside, the building doesn’t have a second floor. This means whoever was storming in on them was at the rooftop.
It made more sense when he saw the same Krax woman from yesterday. The only difference is she had one orphaned toddler in her arms with three other orphans following her like a flock of cuckoos. Her expression screamed ′YOU AGAIN′ beneath the rather forced grin. “I...was not expecting you so soon...
Funny. I wasn’t expecting you to be so reckless either, but here we are.
“I was taking a stroll around the area. Thought to introduce myself properly.” He set the cup down on the table, ignoring her increased annoyed front. Connor wasn’t going to give her the time of day, attention settled on Grace Risa. “Thank you for the tea, Grace Risa.”
“It was my pleasure, young man. Now Rhea. Put Eloso on a seat and have some tea-”
“No. Thank you, Grace Risa. I think Mister Connor will agree with me, that it is time for a private chat. Alone...OUTSIDE.” Rhea sat the child, Eloso, down on a chair, very admirably gentle in every motion despite the gruffness of her appearance. She had a lot of compassion for all of them, including the one that joined the gang. Her annoyance was easily tucked away when one orphan hugged her leg.
“Dun’t go with the scary sailor, Whea-”
What in Anukrin playground-
The woman sucks back a chortle, patting the orphan boy’s head. “He is not scary. Besides, no one can ever catch me.”
We haven’t tested that claim yet, crazy... Connor shoves down another emotion from the surface of his face, his patience waning faster than he could handle. To weaken the effects of the disrespect towards him, he focuses on Grace Risa again. He stood up and bowed his head, “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“It was my pleasure! Rhea...isn’t good with strangers but she has a shining heart. She just gotta warm up to you.”
“Okay. Come...” Rhea heard every bit of the conversation, which explained away the way she was trying to hide her face as her bare feet stomped towards the door. Connor might’ve missed the redness of her ears if he wasn’t watching her. This woman is an example of a being that wears her heart on her sleeve.
The people that he is learning could prove useful, if only he could ever convince one to trust him. Again, his good looks are plagued with the deepest of scowls whenever he has dealings with strangers like Rhea.
Forced to comply with her irrational distrust and commanding aura, he was deepening that same scowl and adding tenseness to his jaw. He followed Rhea, drowning the reluctance beneath a shroud of indifference. It seems that rewards more of a reaction out of the Krax woman, than just playing her antagonizing game.
Rhea led him outside, following around the building till they were at the tiny garden behind the orphanage. Here it is very difficult to be eavesdropped on without being caught, the garden is fenced off and no windows are perfectly aligned their way.
There were only two ways to get to the garden and it was either taking their current path or going through the back door of the orphanage. He wondered for a split second why she went through these lengths only to realize one key fact. She didn’t want him to see any more of the orphanage’s interior layout.
She might be smarter than earlier perceived.
They reached the farthest side of the fence line, checked her surroundings once before spouting.
“What reason...does a thief of the waves have for visiting an orphanage?” Rhea crossed those thin arms over her banded chest, facing Connor with all the animosity she could pool in those burning silver irises. It’s obvious she didn’t like him, it tripled overnight, probably because he got in-between her and Ranko.
“You’re just as much of a thief as I, maybe even better with the stunt you pulled last night.” Connor challenged her front, seeing her fleeting wince under his unwavering gaze.
“What...do you mean...?” Rhea forced out this, playing the ignorant facade horribly. She’s terrible at lying.
“The Glittering Stampede. A few Death Twisters seemed certain of your involvement.” Connor had all the evidence right in his mental chest, he could delve deeper, but by her reaction alone it was clear that he didn’t need to.
Her face changed, from the look of pure contempt to a sudden anxious shudder. Her attention constantly shifted to the back door or the path they took to get their privacy. Worry etched every curve of her face, her shoulders slack. “That...cannot...”
She fell silent, mulling over what he had just said. There is enough intelligence in her cranium to understand that the orphanage is in danger. Her next words were picked carefully, trying to shove down the shakiness of her tone. The suspicion was back. “Why tell me this?”
“I need your help getting information from the Death Twisters.” Connor flatly stated, relaxing his features. She didn’t look ready to smite him anymore.
“...how?” Rhea pried, even though they differed in height and physical prowess she wasn’t afraid of him. It intrigued Connor.
“Now that their sniffing for you, our options are down to one. You will be my gate pass in. I will be ‘offering’ your head for the information.”
That did not entice the female, she gaped at him for even suggesting it. The utter outrage is clear as day in her posture, “You forgot sea thief...I can vanish, and the orphanage will be safe with me gone.”
“It’s too late for that now. You and Ranko probably made it clear to the gang that the orphanage is your refuge. If not, it still won’t resolve the issues of them recruiting the children.”
Rhea opened her pretty mouth then clamped it shut. They weren’t as careful as originally thought based on how she had no comeback. Instead, her crossed arms relaxed beside her, diminishing the original lack of tolerance. She regarded him differently; the stare didn’t feel like it burned holes in him. This time he was the shocked one seeing her compliance.
“Then...what do you suggest, Mister Connor?”
Finally.
“Play along and, in my own way, I will make sure that the gang won’t harm the orphans.”
Rhea started to pace in place, walking in a line. She was fighting whatever anxious instinct to run or fight. Reminds him of the caged tigrous that some disgustingly rich person might own in their abode, creatures clearly only meant in the wild by the way they restlessly paced the border and focus their attention on whoever walked by.
Those eyes, wild and unbridled, watched him waiting for him to make a terrible mistake. His growing interest in her had made him want to test her and fall into that mental cage.
What am I-? Connor felt unsettled by his growing interest, though it never surfaced from the depths of his core. He’d need to revisit it when he gathered enough time. Right now, he faced this pacing woman with an unwavering stance.
This woman didn’t follow any of her own stereotypes, she wasn’t meek from her past traumas, and she didn’t share a lot of the physical traits of a Krax. Small, when usually her kind were taller to take on tree climbing. Very thin when Krax are usually lean, and eyes as silver as the twin moons that visit them every night.
The curls on her head swayed with the wind, sunlight brightening the red in them.
She couldn’t remain inconspicuous walking on her own with hair and eyes that stood out against the warm brown of her skin. Begs the question of how she has been free from enslavement.
He would be tempted to ask, but that wasn’t important. The mission was important.
“How...am I supposed to trust you, mister?” Rhea asked the final question that sat on her pursed lips during her pacing. She must have been trying to find the right way to ask it without giving offense, giving away the tenseness in the air.
“Trust isn’t needed. I just need your compliance. Your prank last night won’t scare them away. But if you’re satisfied, then my recommendation is to move the orphanage. You owe those children at least that.” Connor was really starting to get impatient; his words lost the warmth the more he had to endure being inconvenienced. A terrible trait that makes his past partnerships shaky. He thought their partnership was no different, she’d moved on without looking back, just as he would. Taking her silence as either compliance or not, he turned his back on her and started back to the main road. Even if she doesn’t help him, he will find some other way.
Though imagining a world void of her started to feel not right. Especially when he had more questions than answers at the end of their conversation. There weren’t many who could instill this much intrigue.
Her presence followed him, she did the bravest thing that any sane person would avoid doing to a man armed to the teeth and with a personality as sharp as the sword on his hip. Her hand gripped the excess of his sleeve, stopping his stride.
This woman knows no personal space. He whipped his face her way, jaw tensed with the rest of him. The insane urge to correct her primed his muscles in his shoulders and neck.
Nothing came out of him, not when she peered up at him with her nervous shifting.
She’s not the brightest draw on a deck, maybe not the best tactician. But those silver eyes that pooled with contempt earlier changed, they were very determined. Determined flash balls of fire.
“Mister Connor. I will do what I must to protect them.”
“Hmph.” The shock would have stilled him if not for the initial annoyance. He motioned with his head for her to follow. He wouldn’t reply much from here on out. After all, she just needed to follow his lead. Then they can end this strange affair.