The next 24 hours had all the struggles of a new crew mixed with the trials of sailing a storm. For all my years at sea, there were times that I didn’t help matters either. I knew conceptually that many of my duties as Captain would depend upon delegation to complete effectively. I lacked the applicable experience to stay ahead of the problems as they developed, however, and found myself taking control of situations.

The first problem was food. We’d had fresh stores, but most of those had gotten a thorough soaking in salt water before I’d claimed the ship. Some things weathered it. Most were ruined.

Through my practice I knew that the ship could provide the food we needed if I invested the XP in it. The first tier of the function was within my price range. I tried to select it and found that I couldn’t. It wasn’t hesitation, it wasn’t a seed of doubt or thinking of an alternative option. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it!

Unnerved, I forced my mind to the root of the reason and found it was Jones mandate. He’d said not to waste XP on this ship.

“That was guidance,” I hissed. “Not a prohibition!”

I still couldn’t select it.

“I need to purchase this!” I said. “My crew needs to eat! What, are they supposed to be frail starving weaklings when I need them at their best?”

Whether I was rationalizing with a magic order or simply worked my mind around the rules Jones implemented, I was finally able to purchase the first tier. It was with great relief that I looked at the stores where the magic would manifest in edible food …

One barrel of pure water. One barrel of hardtack.

My crew is going to hate me.

That is, they are going to hate me more than the aversion they probably already have for me as Jones’ lackey. Bloody storm-waves …

Despite the hazardously low level of XP I had, I tried upgrading the ability and wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to discover Jones mandate had blocked me again.

I should have left it at that, but I took it upon myself to find a decent cook amongst the crew. I was using Captain Coe as my guideline for what a good Captain should be, and Coe knew the abilities of his crew inside and out and could tailor them together to create synergies. Without stopping to think, I thought that meant I should know who amongst my crew knew cooking.

I did find that one of the former consorts – Debra – had 7 levels in Cooking so she was given the position. Then Burdette pulled me aside and I found out that he’d taken over my duties at the helm, commanding needed changes to the sail configuration to maintain our uneasy status quo with the sea. If I’d told him to do that it I wouldn’t have had to fight the reddening of my cheeks. Of all the Captains I’d sailed with and watched succeed and fail, you’d think I could fit into the position like putting on a well-used glove. But no! I hadn’t made it through a day without making an idiotic blunder. I managed not to show my embarrassment (I think) and thanked Burdette with a tone that conveyed appreciation but an unspoken expectation that he did exactly what I’d wanted him to do (at least, I hoped I sounded like that.)

I created shifts so that many of the crew could sleep – or try to in these seas – while the minimum number we’d need to maintain things stayed up top. If things went bad, we’d call up the whole crew to man the sails again.

Sadeo found the time to pull me aside and wordlessly show me something. As soon as I saw what was in the sack he carried, I thanked him for his discretion. It was the ship’s whip, the same one I’d been flogged with for my insubordination. Sometime recently, it had undergone a change.

Promise of Misery (whip): 0-1 HP damage. High chance of causing increased pain effects. Has a 0.5% chance for each cut to inflict the victim with a curse.

The whip had always been a piece of work, doing negligible damage to HP but hurting all the worse for it. Now it had half a percentage chance to inflict a curse. That might not seem like much, but there were a dozen tails on the whip, each causing a cut. Lash someone with that several times and the odds of getting cursed were good. The fact that a person could be lashed until it happened opened a whole new realm for abuse.

A realm I didn’t intend to exploit. My crew were already cursed. Besides, did I want to take the chance that the curse tied them to me or the ship? What if it was a different curse that turned them into a werewolf or something? I asked Sadeo to hide the thing in my cabin and not mention it to anyone.

I took the opportunity to speak with crew members who weren’t working but couldn’t sleep. I wanted to humanize myself in their eyes once more. I’d built a mystery around myself while I’d worked among them, and the revelation of my nature had made me unapproachable to many.

Many, but not all. It was a pleasant surprise when people sought me out. Mostly pleasant, anyway.

Zander was one of the people who’d been pointed out as ‘dangerous’ when I first boarded. I remembered still thinking ‘slaves’ meant ‘criminals’ at that point. Zander had looked the part, with obvious hatred for anyone not sharing his chains.

Now he approached me hesitantly. After an awkward pause, he gave me a military salute. “Captain Seaborn, sir,” he said.

“Do you need something Zander?”

The man didn’t look like he knew exactly what he wanted, and was annoyed by it. “Well sir, I … I mean we, we want to know … what comes next?” He met my eyes with a strange earnestness, like he was hopeful and didn’t know what for. Perhaps he just didn’t dare to hope. Not all of his scars looked like battle wounds. Several were like my own recent ones – from instruments designed to inflict punishment rather than death.

“You mean after the storm? We sail northwest. That isn’t a secret. There’s someone we need to save there.”

“Yes sir, I heard, but … afterwards. What do you want us to do?”

“You heard me promise freedom to those who want it, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

I gave him a hard look. “Don’t believe my word?”

He waved his hands. “It’s not that sir …”

“Then spit it out, man.”

“Do you need fighters?” The man blurted. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Was this man offering to fight for me?

“I do,” I replied slowly. “To be honest I might need more fighters than I’d like to have. Since I don’t have any dedicated fighters at all now I’ll take whoever I can.”

Zander didn’t grin, but his eyes were alight. “Call on me, sir. Give me a sword and I’ll fight for you.”

“You good with anything besides a sword?” I asked, interested.

He paused, rocking on his heel as he’d nearly turned away. “Yes sir. Spears is actually my primary skill, though I have some decent unarmed and archery abilities and baseline competencies with several others.”

I nodded and dismissed him. I’d nearly given him a weapon on the spot, but something about him was a bit too eager to be armed. I’d rather give him something when my formative crew wasn’t in such a precarious position.

The next person to approach me was Rhistel. He wanted to know if I wanted to keep him on as a bookkeeper. I informed him that I would consider the positioning of anyone after we were outside one of the Passive’s famously huge storms. I also made sure he knew that while he was Burdette’s personal property before, now he was a member of my crew. Burdette’s only authority over the elf was his authority as my first mate – which wasn’t insubstantial, but it was a different kind than what he’d had before.

Rhistel glanced to where Burdette stood. “He’s not going to like that. He invested a good deal into making sure he could claim me without my kin coming to free me.”

“He can deal with it. I am going to need your assurance on that same matter though.”

“You’re worried about Ellessar on my account? I thought they were already after you.”

“They were, but it’s different when they’re after me because of someone on my crew.”

“Different because you’re curious about me,” he said flatly.

I couldn’t help but grin. He was the first person to talk to me like … well, like I wasn’t a tyrannical overlord, to be cursed, feared, or used to advance their own abilities. He was talking to me like a friend would – albeit a friend annoyed with my intrusive attempt to pry the elf’s backstory from him.

Rhistel sighed. “No, my nation won’t be trying to free me.” I waited, and after a moment he continued. “I spoke out when I shouldn’t have against someone that … well it was a mistake. Rather than admit my mistake I doubled down in stubbornness and insults and was exiled. I was once a shepherd of the forest, directly communing with the life within it. They stripped my profession from me when they cast me out. It is a mark of shame that cannot be redeemed. It also allowed Burdette to set me up and force me into his service without fear of repercussion. You don’t need to worry, Captain. There isn’t a being on this plane of existence who would trouble you on my account.”

The elf had scarcely left when another voice piped in. “He’s so melodramatic.”

I turned and found Arnnaith looking up at me. “First a human, then an elf, now a mix have come to chat. Am I making my way through the races on board? I’m sure I just saw Krantoron the minotaur somewhere ...”

“You’re forgetting Sadeo, the kitsune.” The boy said. “Do you usually forget those you’ve taken into service?”

“I know Sadeo,” I replied. “I don’t consider it necessary to have a new introduction.” I gave it a moment’s thought. “He’s not someone who’d treat me any different now than if my sole purpose was to clean his chamber pot.”

“But will you forget us?” Arnnaith said, his eyes demanding. “I recall a time not too long ago that you took a hundred lashes for me, yet I found myself atop the highest mast aboard because ‘tree-rats ought to climb’.”

“I recall a time not too long ago I promised whoever desired it their freedom,” I mused. “It seems that people either didn’t hear me or think I’m a liar. And while I never understood how people see elven blood and think of rodents, I’m not going to let you off work because you’re a child. Don’t think I haven’t seen my share of attempts to get off work, so don’t try and guilt-trip me into anything! How old are you anyway?”

Whereas before Arnnaith had a fire in his eyes – exactly the kind of fire you’d expect in someone who was seeking justice, he was a good actor – now he sulked. If he hadn’t come on the coattails of Zander and Rhistel, I might have handled him differently. Yet somehow his attempt at freeloading and the way he’d pushed a perspective, reminding me how much sympathy I’d had for him (and still had – he reminded me a bit of Redmund but he was more like Bing as far as intellect and arrogance went) seemed completely transparent. I had no time for it.

“Thirteen,” he said. I analyzed him and arced an eyebrow. His sulk turned into a glare. “It sounds better than twelve! Why ask stupid questions if you can analyze me, anyway?”

“It’s a courtesy. To be honest, I thought you were much younger.”

“I know I’m small. It’s the problem with my elf genes, I mature slower.”

“I thought you were fiercely proud of your elf heritage?”

“I am!”

I didn’t say anything more about it. If I didn’t have others things I could be doing maybe I’d try unpacking the baggage of a loved mother and estranged father that I’d already gathered he had. That reminded me of yet another boy at that age: myself. Instead I gave him several seconds to say something new before turning and leaving. I expected him to force out then whatever question he’d really come to me with, but he didn’t follow. Maybe his only goal really had been to try and get on the Captain’s good side and avoid some work. If it was, the boy disappointed me.

He had raised a point, only he was unaware that I had been troubling over it already. I had two divisive problems within my crew: slave status and race. I could declare the slaves were free, but their minds wouldn’t be changed on it at the snap of my fingers. Race was a different beast, as there weren’t many non-humans on board. I couldn’t – and didn’t want to – police every slight or insult, like whoever had called Arnnaith a tree rat. I thought I could show everyone that their previous stations no longer mattered, but I wasn’t sure how to keep them from disliking each other based off who they were.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

I got an opportunity to address both matters at once, though I didn’t see it that way. Instead, I saw the doom of a support that I critically needed.

Dyzia the Leonid was another person whose baggage I just didn’t have time to unpack. She was a former consort, marketed to those with ‘exotic tastes’. She wasn’t one who enjoyed her job, which made me think she’d been captured at some point and forced into her trade. She was also a bit … unhinged. I’d been warned about her, too, in my first days aboard. Zamari had told me she could attack someone mistreating the other consorts – probably girls the Leonid had mentally ascribed as her pack.

I’d noticed she was acting cagey earlier, staring at the men, acting like she was about to step out of their way but forced herself to stay. Now I realized that she was standing up to them, testing the limits of my promise of freedom.

Only why by the two moons above did she need to go and do that half not-quite challenge to Burdette?

I needed Burdette, and had come to tenuous arrangement with him. Only now she was there in his way, and the former Captain wasn’t going to put up with such nonsense from a former whore chained in his ship.

And that was the problem. If Burdette gave a tongue lashing to one of the human crew acting squirrely, I would have said that was his job. But he wasn’t doing that. He was putting down one of the slaves who was impeding him on his ship and making it clear that her race was beneath him to boot.

So I intervened.

“… So get out of the way before I dangle you over the side by your tail and let the sea life have their turn at – oomph!”

My leg swept Burdette’s out mid-tirade, while my palm struck the back of his head. I bore him down to the deck, his face smashing into the planking. My dirty fighting skill triggered and added to his dazed timer, giving me plenty of time to twist his arm around and kneel on his back. When he recovered himself, he didn’t dare move. No one else on deck was moving either, their wide eyes on the two of us.

“I thought I made it clear when I first spoke,” I said in a stage whisper to Burdette. “That there were no slaves aboard my ship. That I didn’t care what race you were. But it seems that I wasn’t clear enough, so let me state it this way … you are all slaves. My slaves. Bound to my service by your own agreement. So who are you?” I asked Burdette, leaning on my knee. “To put down anyone else? What does it matter to a slave, Burdette, what a master does with his other slaves?”

Burdette didn’t answer me. I suppose it was a rhetorical question.

“I promise any who want it freedom after we’ve seen this mission through!” I said to everyone. “For those of you who don’t – and some of you have already approached me – I promise fair, just treatment. I care about your skills and your willingness to help, not your past life or your race!”

I found that I had nothing else to say, and I was still kneeling on Burdette. I let him up, and saw that his nose was broken and gushing blood. “Go see Myota to have that set. Then take a few hours on the resting shift before relieving me at the helm.”

“Yes, Captain.” The burly man didn’t stalk off, but walked with broken dignity.

I found everyone else still watching me. “Back to your business!” I said, then waved my arms at them when they were slow.

I moved to the bowsprit to have a moment to myself – just me and the power of the storm. I felt like I’d made a mistake and done the right thing at the same time. I’d considered all my reasons, though, and was done thinking about it if possible.

Staring out at the might of the storm – the mountainous swells, cavernous rifts, lightning-lit black storm clouds that muted the brightness of dawn into an opaque glow – I had the urge to jump. Some people had that urge when standing on a high and dangerous place, but my feeling was not the same. My desire was to return to the sea in all her terrifying glory and just exist while she reveled. I’d tried so many times to get a crew, and now that I had one I had all the problems of dealing with people. Why hadn’t I just summoned constructs again? Oh yes, so I could have people fight for me. I should have taken more care they didn’t innately want to fight each other!

There wasn’t much time that I could justify carving away for my solitude, and I was back to moving about the decks soon. I taught, encouraged, directed, ordered. I didn’t need to reprimand, as it seemed everyone was on their best behavior.

A few hours later shifts changed. While no one was seasick – an advantage of being on my crew, I guess – those coming up who weren’t able to sleep looked ragged. I’d put them through their paces anyway. I’d heard stories of new sailors jumping levels after managing a big storm, and I’d seen my own progression jump when I went through my first few. Every minute they spent on the surface in this storm could be days or weeks of work gathered on a calm sea.

Burdette came to relieve me, his nose set and plugged with small strips of cloth. “Captain,” he said with a salute and stuffy nasal tone.

I returned the salute and gave a clear pass down of information. He nodded and relieved me to grab my own rest.

I went to the Captain’s cabin. Burdette hadn’t grabbed his things, but he hadn’t tried to sleep there either. There weren’t many personal items or mementos in the cabin, so I set them aside for him.

I eased myself into the chair behind Burdette’s desk, secured as it was against the wall. I took a deep breath, and allowed myself to focus on the plethora of messages waiting for me.

You have advanced to skill level 6 in Leadership! People are more likely to follow your direction; your team receives a 0.5% boost to effectiveness per level.

You have advanced to skill level 15 in Sea Legs! Improved balance and coordination. You do not suffer from natural effects caused by unstable terrain.

You have advanced to skill level 16 in Swimming! +4% breathing capacity, +4% water movement speed per level.

Two levels in leadership; I guess my performances over the past day had been good. I’d been hoping for three levels, though. I suppose I was far from the first person to be suddenly thrown into a position like I’d undertaken, but still …

And advancements in my old standbys sea legs and swimming. Swimming was overdue, I’d been using it a lot and it seemed the scales had finally tipped. The breathing capacity meant even less than before, but another 4% movement speed was awesome on top of my other movement bonuses. I hadn’t really considered sea legs since I got it to level 10 and stopped noticing difficulty with movement, but apparently this storm was challenging even me in that area.

Congratulations! You have advanced to Lifesaver VII.

+15% movement speed in water, +45 seconds breath underwater per level.

Lifesaver VII … apparently it didn’t matter that I’d done it by cursing them all, I’d saved the lives of the entire crew when the sirens had attacked. The number of people on board catapulted me from my previous record at Lifesaving III to something I’d never expected. Holding my breath wasn’t something that concerned me anymore, but the movement bonus … that achievement had previously given me a 45% boost. Now I had a 105% boost to moving underwater. I liked being faster than my opponents.

Voice of the Crew status set: Training.

The ship has been set on a dedicated training course for a new crew. They will improve their skills or risk the wrath of their new Captain.

+10% skill growth. +5% fatigue.

A way to advance skill growth was incredible – and well worth the cost in fatigue. Did the system perceive me as a wrathful Captain, though? Or did the crew?

Wasn’t I? Hadn’t I put down my first mate – a man I wanted on my side?

No. I wasn’t thinking thoughts like that anymore today.

I sensed the next prompts were the ones I truly hadn’t wanted to deal with. I was right.

You have advanced the quest chain Terror of the Seas! Men stay at harbor and your name is on their lips – but only whispered, so as not to draw your eye. Monarchs and rulers restructure their shipping and economies to avoid you. You answer to no one but your master and mistress; Davy Jones and the sea herself!

You have claimed your crew, conscripting sailors and cargo alike. You have shown disregard for nationality and custom, instead judging others by your own might.

I didn’t like advancing that one, but if the system wanted to interpret my actions that way then advancing it seemed unavoidable.

You have advanced the quest chain Tall Tales! You are a superstition, a specter, a ghost story told to cabin boys. None know whether to believe these accounts or even their own eyes. Are ships who wander in your fog forever lost? Or do drowning sailors tell their shipmates that they felt someone pushing them to the surface? They wonder at your roots; some saying you were a vengeful naval captain, and others saying you were but a mild-mannered sailor who saved the lives of others until he went down with the ship. What will you decide to be?

You are a man of contradictions, leaving those you encounter to wonder at your rationality and even your sanity. What’s more, you have lost your pursuers by sailing into a mighty storm! Whatever is said about you, be sure men are talking!

Question my sanity, huh? There’ve been times that I knew what I was doing seemed crazy but I always considered myself quite rational!

But pursuers … was that the sirens? No, they’d fled at Jones’ command, hadn’t they? The ships that had tried to trap me in Andros, perhaps? Had raising the Death’s Consort tipped off my location to them?

It didn’t matter, I had an irrefutable message letting me know I’d lost them … for the moment.

You have unlocked the quest Reluctant Slaver. You have given a group of enslaved people the ultimatum to join you or drown. This does not sit well with you. Find a way to give your crew a real choice or embrace the title of slaver.

…

How?

Why?

Hadn’t I done right by my crew? I’d saved their lives! Surely the time and effort I demanded of them was fair recompense.

Was my continued service to Jones fair recompense for my life? Wasn’t I chaffing at his control?

But I’d promised freedom to my crew! I’d let anyone who wanted to go free do so!

Could I back that promise?

I shivered, and the insidious thought that had been worming around inside my head ever since I gave my word was brought to the forefront of my mind. I may want to let my crew go, but could I? I didn’t know how my ability worked. Jones talked about retaining service versus releasing spirits. What if the only way to release my crew was to grant them death?

That wasn’t the freedom I’d promised them.

I couldn’t deal with this problem now, and I couldn’t afford to think about it. I didn’t want to think about it. I selfishly didn’t want to have an answer, because it might crush my own hope at ever being free again.

I got up from the desk, pulled off my boots, and sat on the bed. Then I pulled out a book.

This was another of Captain Coe’s habits. Before he turned in each night, he would sit in his cabin and read for half an hour. He said it was his own time, and he clung to that schedule religiously. The rest of his time belonged to his ship or his crew, but he always made time for half an hour of reading.

Seeing as how the fair Captain was my model at the moment, I decided that would be one habit to stick with. Since I was still heading for dangerous rocks on unfamiliar currents, as it were, I decided that I would make my ‘leisure time’ into training time too. At Marcus’s recommendation I’d accumulated a library in my spatial bag. I hadn’t done much reading back in Tulisang because I’d had a tutor, but now was a good time to make sure I didn’t slack off in my magical studies. They would be my primary focus, after all. Jones had made it clear what he thought of me fending off those who pursued me with my martial skills.

I first cracked open the skill book on water whip. I was stuck at four appendages, and Marcus had said that was as far as I could go with my current technique. I needed to adjust my thinking and how I perceived each whip in order to add more – but once I did I could add many, many more. I quite liked the idea of matching an octopus or squid arm-for-arm.

Yet the rumbling thunder distracted me, and I put the book away to look over a different one. Air magic. I hadn’t used it as much as I should. Water magic had impressive basic spells, things like the water whip, ice spike and such. Air magic spells looked more impressive at higher levels, such as the flashy lightning spell. Marcus had primed me for a lot of different spells in the mental realm of Tadra without me actually acquiring those spells. Those would be easier for me to pick up with practice and skill books. Lightning strike was not one of those. It was an advanced technique, used by senior air mages, and he’d said I wasn’t ready for it. I’d agreed, reluctantly.

But stars, I wanted it! As the lightning lit my cabin, I couldn’t help myself and dug through my library until I found a book I’d picked up just for the purpose of slaking my curiosity.

I skimmed the warnings: this spell can cause severe damage to the wielder, do not attempt to learn this spell without guided instruction, etc. I wasn’t trying to learn it, I just wanted to read about it.

It’s amazing how dry material can seem so fascinating when it’s on a topic that engages you.

I overdid my half hour but my weary body didn’t let me skip my rest shift. Unlike all the poor landlubbers below deck, I had the experience to sleep through storms. Maybe “sleeping” was one of those minute skill sets that got tucked under broader skills …

I was woken by Dyzia. I was instantly suspicious about the perception of a consort in my cabin, but the Leonid was fully clothed and I’m sure she wasn’t sent in to deliberately create an improper perception.

“What is it, Dyzia?”

“Sir, there’s something Burdette and Rhistel think you should see.”

Burdette and Rhistel? What was the master and former slave collaborating on? I hurriedly pulled on my boots and with a sense of paranoia used some of my movement buffs before stepping outside.

The sea state hadn’t gotten any worse, but the storm clouds had. Dawn had come and it was supposed to be midday at a guess, but you wouldn’t know it. Lightning forked across the sky in crazily intricate patterns.

I found Burdette manning the helm. He nodded to me professionally, but coldly. Rhistel was at the fantail looking at the sky.

“Trying to get a sextant reading?” I asked him. “Good luck in this weather.”

“No,” the elf said quietly, his gaze intent. Lightning flashed again. “There! Look there!”

Nervous, I looked where he pointed. Lightning flashed again, and I saw nothing. A second time, and I shook my head. “What am I looking for, Rhistel?”

“Keep looking, sir.”

An odd peal of thunder sounded. Somehow my mind pulled it out from the rest of the noise and demanded I pay attention to it. It was all wrong, sounding more like a roar than …

Lighting flashed once more, and I gasped. It was a roar. There was something flying out there.

“A storm dragon,” Rhistel whispered.

I swallowed and kept my eyes peeled. The dragon seemed to be at the nexus of every lightning strike, and was illuminated for brief moments, lingering in afterimages.

For several minutes Rhistel and I watched the magnificent beast together. Dragons were as rare as they were powerful. Stories told of heroic adventurers slaying dragons, but there was no truth to them. Dragons weren’t slayed. You could bargain with them if you knew what they wanted. You could make a place inhospitable enough they left it. You couldn’t kill them, though. Everyone knew that.

So while I was fascinated by the beast, I was also ready to dive the ship at any moment. That readiness faded as minutes passed. I left Rhistel on the fantail and climbed the rigging to the crows nest. I wanted to be closer …

I swear I could see the lightning flow from one spot to the next a moment before it did. I thought I could see how the dragon intersected these flows … even, directed? Yes, there were several lighting strikes that originated from the dragon! The storm dragon was casting lightning!

I was too amazed to be jealous. So amazed I didn’t think. I just tried to imitate it. I could see what it was doing … it was about the flow. I just needed to use my mana to create the flow …

In a prescient moment that lasted an eternity, I saw it! My mana aligned with something, and a channel was created between me and the sky! Only I didn’t shoot lightning from my fingertips – a brilliant flash of light arced down from the heavens to smite me.

The slice of eternity ended, and I was blasted from the crows nest, briefly hurdled through the air, and smacked into the towering wave behind me.

Perhaps it was delusion, but as I sank I thought I heard the dragons roar once more and tried to force my stalled brain into deciding whether it was laughing at me or crowing in triumph.