Malysseus, Captain of the Royal Malignance, sat on the docks within the outskirts of Maripolos. The city, of course, was the capital city of the Kingdom. He gazed deeply upon his precious ship, not the one he usually captained, but a newly licensed ship named Opportunity. He anointed it himself. He bought it himself.

He began his second favorite pre-sailing ritual on those docks as he pulled a small cigar case from his jacket. Retrieving a cigar and match, he lit the cigar without the match, calling instead upon the Fire magic singing inside his mana reservoirs. He covered the process with his hands as if trying to block the wind, maintaining secrecy. His smoking ritual was, as often was the case, rudely interrupted by someone.

“This is a foolish plan,” Selira, Chief Advisor to the King, chastised. “You’re unlikely to come back from this. Seventy voyages, seventy captains, and seventy missing ships. No one ever comes back. You’re a fool.”

Malysseus could have done without the repetition, but there was no sense in making an enemy of the King’s second favorite advisor. It was seventy expeditions, everyone knew. He took a long first drag from his cigar before he responded.

“Am I not already the fool?” he asked sincerely, laying back against the dock’s wooden planks, staring up at Selira.

“As usual, I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean,” Selira said, her blonde hair spilling in front of her face as she looked down to meet his eyes. He pushed the second drag of smoke directly up into her stern expression. She—as was tradition—didn’t react.

Turning to the First Mate, Gurten, she bowed her head slightly, maintaining common courtesy. “I hope you are doing well, Gurten.”

Malysseus feigned surprise as he looked over his own First Mate carefully. “I didn’t even see you there, my old friend.”

Gurten, who stood at a solid six feet and eight inches tall and sported a muscular body, did not reply to his comments. He was impossible to miss.

“You’re the Captain of the King’s cruising ship. You could do with a little more dignity,” Selira said, returning to her task. She looked him up and down. “Perhaps an upgrade to your wardrobe, as well.”

“You’re not going to talk me out of this mission. If I’m going to show the King I can do more than sail around the coast, I need to prove my worth,” Malysseus said, commanding her to back down with his tone.

“I hate when you speak to me like that,” she threatened.

He scoffed, “And I hate when you bother me before an expedition. And yet here we are. Every time.”

“This is your first expedition.”

“Like I said,” he replied, smiling through another drag on his cigar. “Every time.”

“Very cute,” she said with a tone that did not suggest it was cute. “But the truth is, for your first expedition, you’ve chosen to put a whole crew at risk. I don’t see how the King would abide by this. I demand you call it off immediately.”

“That was very, very well put. I could try and explain myself, but I don’t want to ruin my future expedition with a red, freshly slapped face,” Malysseus said. “Tell you what. Let me put it to you in a language you can understand.”

The fury built on her face as he fished around in his coat pocket. He found a small scroll, which he pulled out and presented to the King’s Chief Advisor as he continued to smoke. Selira opened the small scroll, and the fury slowly melted from her face as she continued to read.

“This is marked with the King’s own seal,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said, prompting her to continue on.

“Twice,” she added.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “The King assured me it was overkill, but I told him you wouldn’t trust me if I carried a scroll with only a single seal.”

“You’re right about that.”

She continued to inspect the seal as if her scrutiny might force a deception to disappear. Malysseus continued with his cigar, pushing the smoke toward her—which she ignored, yet again—and awaited inspection completion.

“Well, everything seems to be in order. There isn’t anything I can do to stop you, and it’s unlikely I’ll find something to convince you.”

“You’re right about that,” Malysseus echoed. “Does this mean you’re going to leave me alone now?” He flicked the ashes of his cigar up toward Selira.

“Your antics test my patience, but I suppose there isn’t much I can do to you with a royal charter in your hand.”

“I’m a delight.”

“You’re so impish,” Selira sighed, brushing herself off, despite the lack of any ashes on her clothing, “and far from a delight.”

“I’ve met imps before, and there’s nothing impish about them,” Malysseus said, kicking himself back up to a sitting position. He managed to continue puffing on the cigar without holding onto it, just like magic. “We done here? I’ve got things to do.”

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“What things?”

“Just stuff. The final ritual before sailing.”

“I don’t want to know,” she said.

“You certainly don’t,” he agreed, extending his hand to her. “Shake on it and be on your way?”

“Travel safely,” she said, making it sound like ‘crash on some rocks.’ She ignored his hand but took her leave. Malysseus watched her walk away, turning to his First Mate.

“That one’s going to be trouble for somebody,” he said, watching her walk away.

“Yes,” Gurten acknowledged. “but not for us. At least, not for a few months.”

“Thanks for covering my back there, Gurten,” Malysseus said.

“I didn’t do anything,” Gurten protested. “I stayed completely out of it.”

“Exactly.”

Malysseus pushed himself up, continuing to smoke. He brushed himself off, ensuring the ashes were scattered into the winds. It was easy to do on a windy dock, after all. He looked around the docks, seeing that people were giving him and Gurten a wide berth. The Captain nodded, expecting something to that effect.

Pulling a small pocket watch from his coat, he checked it. The magical device always kept track of time, emanating a tiny mechanical tick every second.

He had time to finish his tradition, so he tried to set off from the docks, making his way into the residential quarters of the rich and powerful. Or at least, very rich. He tried to but was quickly stopped by a mighty, meaty hand on his shoulder. Gurten’s hand, of course.

“I thought you weren’t going to do anything, my friend,” Malysseus accused.

“I was hoping to meet with you before we set sail. Finalize the preparations and discuss our future after this expedition,” Gurten said.

“It’s bad luck to discuss the future before an expedition.”

“We must anyway, sir.”

Malysseus regarded him as he puffed hard on the cigar, blowing the smoke into the figure of a small swan and sending it flying toward the sun. He was sending his long-time friend into what may very well be a death trap. Despite his magic power, there were many things in the world and beyond dangerous even to him. Besides, he was having trouble mastering the last elemental conglomeration: lightning. His failures implied he was less of a Wizard than he might have thought.

“Just to be clear,” he said, drawing out each word to Gurten. “While we discuss things, I need to write apology letters to Courtney, Kenla, Daphne, and Tabitha for ditching our appointments?” He eyed his friend carefully, narrowing his eyes and silently pleading for reprieve. There was no doubt at all that Gurten wasn’t going to give in.

“Very well, sir,” Gurten agreed, a clear look of judgment passing over his face. “I’ll have some of the sailors deliver your letters. But we must speak.”

Relenting, Malysseus nodded his assent. They made their way onto the ship as promised, making directly for the Captain’s quarters. Several members of the crew greeted them along the way. Spirits were still high since the expedition wasn’t underway yet. The sea would get the best of most of them in the end.

“You’re not supposed to smoke on the ships,” Gurten said.

“You’re really not supposed to smoke anywhere,” Malysseus challenged. “These things can kill you, you know.”

Gurten grimaced in disgust at being trapped inside the smoky cabin, but he dealt with the unpleasantness anyway. One of his best qualities was dealing with unpleasantness the Captain would prefer to avoid.

“What did you want to discuss?” Malysseus asked, plopping down into his unique chair. The leather was made from a rare magical creature, not native to his current area but back from his homeland on another continent. He pulled writing materials and began the process of writing his letters.

“Are you certain about your course for this expedition?” Gurten asked. “I know we’ve discussed it day in and day out, but I really don’t know if the men can take it. The trip will take us several weeks, and no one ever makes it back. That’s just getting there. People might have been desperate to join us after your persuasive coin, but what will it do to morale when things start to go wrong?”

“The seas are rarely ever kind,” Malysseus agreed. “So when morale starts to drop, I will captain the ship because I am the Captain. And it’s my job. You’ve never questioned my ability before.”

“It’s never been like this before,” Gurten challenged. “It was always about how to make more money or managing crews.” Gurten smirked as he continued, “Or moving to the side of the town where the Sophias and the Sarahs live.”

Malysseus shuddered, finding himself falling into a memory of Sarah. The mistake was one of his greatest. The incident was what sent him sailing to this part of the world, to begin with. It was before he genuinely knew what it meant to be the Captain of a ship. He watched the smoke float around the room for a few moments, trapped in self-reflection. Gurten, as he always did, allowed him the space to think.

“We don’t date Sarahs anymore, dear Gurten. If things get truly terrible, I’ll tell you why. Until then, we’ll do the best we can. As of yet, no Wizard has been brave enough to undertake the voyage. We can only hope my powers will be enough for the things to come. But I’m a Captain first.”

Gurten considered him, “How do you know there weren’t other secret mages amongst the other seventy ship captains?”

Malysseus laughed. “How many Wizards do you know who aren’t running around shouting about it?”

“I suppose that’s what makes them secret Wizards,” Gurten teased. “Still, you’ve never told me why you don’t publicize your powers. Surely the King would commission us into his Navy if he knew. You could sail the seas as an Admiral.”

Malysseus rarely spoke about his powers for a reason. The magic sent people chasing his tail. Or kept him chasing his tail, as learning lightning-based magic promoted. Still, he hoped a little openness would help set Gurten’s nerves at ease.

“Because, my friend. I want to avoid the recognition that comes from being a famous Wizard. I’d much rather be a famous Captain. Think about it, Gurten. The most famous Wizards belong in towers. The most famous Captains belong on the seas. Where do you think I belong?”

Gurten observed him as he finished his cigar, ashing it on the tray which always lived on his large mahogany desk. The First Mate never said anything else, so Malysseus changed the subject by moving things to another meeting.

“Ready to go meet Kewari?” he asked, knowing it was time to meet with the Second Mate. She was vital to the long journey, being the crew’s only capable doctor and healer.

Gurten nodded, “I’ve no idea why she’d follow you into something this dangerous.”

Malysseus knew, but he chose not to explain it. His eyes combed around his cabin, feeling like he was missing something. Nothing came to mind, so he let it go. He stood up from his desk, addressing Gurten.

“See that these get delivered.”

“Sir, these all just have a name, the word sorry, and your signature.”

“Exactly,” Malysseus agreed, handing over the letters. “They’ll know only I would be so bold. Doesn’t even need a seal.”

Gurten chuckled, knowing there was no reason to dispute the claim.

“Have you actually met imps before?” he asked, remembering the earlier conversation. “Or was that just a story to mess with Selira’s head?”

“I would never lie about my own deeds,” Malysseus said, making for the door once again. “I fought a pair of them on my own, chasing some treasure. There was a well with a tunnel at the bottom of it. Turns out—it was a hideaway for a rogue mage practicing demonic summoning.”

“What about the rogue mage? Did you fight him too?”

Gurten’s expression was a mix of skepticism and curiosity as they left the cabin.

“The imps had already taken care of him.”