Chapter IV - The Last Defender of the Black Island

  “Ralf, please.”

  “No.”

  “Ralf, I beg you!”

  “No.”

  A loud stomach growl erupted in the Arsenal, causing the big man to cringe. He sighed, standing up from his chair.

  “Oh, you little… sit here. Just this once!”

  He left for the kitchen. Joe pumped his fist, quietly cheering from the floor he was kneeling on.

  Once again, he overestimated himself. It seemed that the System was, in fact, enhancing his body, as he was able to train for far, far longer than he ever had the endurance for.

  But like all good gifts, this one came with a cost. To be fair, however, this one was of Joe’s own doing. He overextended his limits, running out of energy and earning himself a burning muscle pain. The pain has somewhat subdued when he got to the Arsenal, but his body demanded fuel. Very loudly.

  And so, he had to literally prostrate himself before Ralf. He was resisting for a very, very long time - by Joe’s own estimation, he was in this pose for almost half an hour. Eventually, however, the big man caved in.

  Maybe he wasn’t as much of a hardass he was trying to be.

  Ralf returned sometime later, bringing in a steaming deep bowl with a meaty dish, with potatoes, covered in cheese crust with unknown weed, vegetables, both familiar and unfamiliar. The radiant smell filled the room, causing Joe’s stomach to growl even louder than before.

  “You better eat all of it, down to the last crumb. If I see you leaving anything in there, you will be cooking for the entire crew by yourself.”

  Said in a calm and composed tone, this threat was enough for Joe to pick up a fork and a spoon and dive into the food.

  He had nothing to worry about. The food was borderline melting in his mouth, leaving a great aftertaste. He didn’t even notice how he emptied a bowl, and only after the sound of the spoon scraping a bottom of the bowl had reached his ears, he realized how hungry he truly was before.

  Ralf did actually check his bowl. He grimaced upon looking in it.

  “Let’s call it… sufficient. Now, don’t you dare to flounder around and run your mouth about that incident. I’m only doing it for you once, remember.”

  “Did you really think I’d do that?” Joe was more than a little hurt by this accusation.

  “There were some… very clever people. You can think for yourself what happened to them. That freezer is there for a reason… Now, go and wash that bowl, spoon, and fork.”

  Joe had no objections to that.

  Upon returning to the Arsenal, from the corner of the eye he noticed Xander talking with Ailuros at the end of the hall. Their words were barely reaching him, but he couldn’t catch anything meaningful.

  Not like it was his business, anyway. He was curious, sure, but butting into the conversation that in no way, shape or form was concerning him was dangerous (especially on this ship), and just plain rude.

  He entered the Arsenal and sat on the stool near a table. Ralf was looking at the scheme of some unknown type of weapon. He didn’t say a word.

  Then Joe decided to ask him one question about the detail he was very interested in.

  “Ralf, you are very good at cooking. Enough to be a cook for an entire ship. Why would you become an armsmaster?”

  He lifted his head. His eyes weren’t really watching at Joe, but… through him? Joseph couldn’t quite describe the feeling.

  “Why would you want to know that?”

  His voice was heavy, but strangely enough, Joe felt no threat coming from it. That could mean absolutely nothing. So Joe decided to be completely truthful.

  “Just an honest curiosity.”

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  “Curiosity is never honest. It baits you, ensnares you, and then, when you think you are satisfied, pushes you to go even further. Waiting for you to take a wrong road, falling into a ditch you will never crawl out from.”

  His words were slow. His eyes were calm, serene even. Ralf lifted himself up from the chair, walked to a wall of weapons, and took a blunderbuss, weighing it in his hands.

  “Listen, Joseph.” Ralf didn’t even turn around. “If you find yourself alone, in the middle of the burning ship, would you climb out of it, or look for survivors to save, even if you risk your limb and life for it?”

  Joe couldn’t say anything. He was expecting nothing, yet was completely unprepared for this weird situation. But even then, he had no idea how to answer. Sure, he would probably go rescue survivors, right?

  Right? Would you, now?

  “I… I don’t… know. I don’t know.”

  Ralf hummed.

  “Thought so. Then, take this advice from the old man. If you hear someone painfully moaning in a toilet, don’t run to offer your help to them right away. Maybe they just enjoying themselves in there. Be considerate.”

  How in the world that joke of a conversation has reached this point?! Joe was absolutely sure that Ralf was just messing with him. It was the only explanation, especially since he didn’t even bother to answer his question.

  “Why would you even… You haven’t even answered me about your cooking career earlier!”

  “Did I?” He squinted his eyes, with a wild grin on his face. “Then maybe it’s for the best. Curiosity killed a lot of cats, not all of them came back. My apologies, Ailuros.”

  Joseph swore he heard a slightly outraged “meow” from somewhere. But was there an actual answer in all of this nonsense, or Ralf decided to joke around, Joe didn’t know this man enough to figure out. It was clear enough anyway, that he wouldn’t answer if there was no need for him to do it. In this battle, Joe’s only choice was to retreat. For now.

  “Sure, keep your secrets…”

  Ralf was watching at Joe’s pouting expression with mild amusement.

  “Tell me, kid. Why did you join the fight on the deck? A bird told me that you nearly gave up a ghost just from a sight of blood. You’ve barely managed to prove your mettle, true, but in a foolish way, not one any sensible man would take.”

  What options did he really have that day? Run inside the ship? Safe, yes, but somewhat cowardly… Jump to the other ship and use the chaos to hide in it? That option was extremely risky and even dumber than fighting. Who knows what privateers would’ve done once they inevitably find him?

  He was also seen by a bunch of people, including the Captain. Not the best look if he decides to sit a fight out inside the ship.

  “It was fly or die… wasn’t it?”

  Ralf only shrugged.

  “Beats me. I wasn’t there. My place was with cannons, and that’s where I was.”

  “Guns, bigger guns… knives, bigger knives… tasty food, and barrels of alcohol. You are a man of simple pleasures, aren’t you, Ralf?”

  The round man laughed.

  “Women too. Of all kinds - white, black, thin, round, scaly or deadly, I like them all. What more could you ask from life, kid? Simple pleasures for a simple man. Leave voidly ambitions for people with egos that rival Deities themselves.”

  “Like any woman would come closer than a kilometer to you…”

  “You’d be surprised!” Ralf’s grin was bigger than ever before. Joe noticed three shiny silver teeth. “Kid, you are young and green. You haven’t seen the world yet. And when you will be standing in front of a wheel, furrowing through the void as if it was your own, you’ll remember the good ol’ Ralf and his enlightening wisdom!”

  “Ah. So you are saying that I am capable enough to climb that hill and stand on top of it? Weren’t you the one who was saying exactly the opposite not too long ago?”

  Well, he did say in their first meeting that Joe was a tool that needed some sharping. A backhanded compliment, sure, but Joe only realized it now, that it might have been Ralf’s idea of encouraging.

  And he was proved somewhat right just a moment later.

  “I was, and I am standing by those words. But…” Ralf looked at Joe with a cocky and mischievous expression. He reminded Joe of a teen, challenging his friend to a fight. “…You are free to prove me wrong. But I am not taking my words back either way.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll bring you down. That’s my promise.”

  The two exchanged glances. Ralf reached out with his hand. Joe accepted the gesture. Words were barely necessary.

  “Good luck, kid. I will look forward to see you try.”

*****

  Apparently, dinner time was coming. Various crew members were passing by, asking for their share of a meal, while irritated Ralf, calling them “daemons from the gutters”, left for the kitchen. Joe asked him if he needed help, but the armsmaster-cook-whatever-else-he-could-be just waved him off.

  Left to his own devices, Joseph figured that it was probably very close to noon. The shower was not hard to find - it was right near Medbay, in the repurposed crew room.

  Nothing was surprising about this one. It was a stationary shower. Not too special. As a bonus, a toilet was right across. And by the looks of it, the toilet was actually there from the start, with a sink and, to Joseph’s absolute delight, toilet paper. Not a fancy modern kind, but a rougher older one. But it was still a serviceable toilet paper, and he couldn’t be any happier.

  One question still remained unanswered, though.

  Why the shower was added later and wasn’t there from the beginning?

  Somebody was slacking on his job. Joseph shook his head in disappointment.

  Well, since the toilet was free and opportunity presented itself…

  …When he was done washing his hands, he decided to ask someone for the time. Some people from the crew were going back to their rooms when he spotted a familiar face.

  “Irfan! Sorry, but do you know what time it is?”

  He felt a sense of deja vu. He saw that expression before.

  Luckily, this time arid recovered quickly.

  “It’s a couple of minutes past noon… what, you have no watch on you?”

  Joseph could only nod.

  “That’s too bad… you should ask quartermaster for that. Or treasurer.”

  “Thank you, Irfan. Have a good meal.”

  The pale man slightly lifted the corners of his lips and went inside his room.

  That’s the problem, actually… I see no treasurer around.

  Where in the world was Grigory?… He did say to see him after noon, but it was technically already the right time.

  Joe decided to wait for some time.

  Then some more. He saw crew members getting out of their rooms, going back to their stations.

  No sign of Grigory. That was concerning. He could very well be busy, sure, being a treasurer and all. Still, it was a very irritating feeling. It was the first time Joe was stood up like that.

  Not the first, but at least they had the decency to call…

  Well, that was a bust.

  Joe picked himself up from the floor he was sitting on.

  Something huge appeared out of nowhere at the edge of his vision. Joe barely reacted and stumbled back, as Xander flew past him, leaving wind behind. The rhevalian dived behind a corner, in the direction of the doctor’s room.

  Something must have happened for Xander to run around like that. He could be wrong, but the man didn’t strike him as the type to run around the ship just because. He commanded a certain presence, and Joe thought of him as a serious and respectable man, maybe slightly angry on the inside.

  Xander emerged from the room, now walking slower, with Pat following behind him. They paid Joe absolutely no attention, quickly reaching the far end of the hall and turning behind a corner.

  The staircase was there, and it was leading up. Something went down on the deck?

  Curiosity started eating him from inside. He knew that was not the place, nor time for that, but now he really was wondering what made Xander so agitated. It had to be something extraordinary, right? Right?

  Before he could finish that thought, his legs were carrying him to the stairs.

  While he was going up, the alarm rang throughout the ship.

  Twice.