“It wasn’t a Unicorn,” Kewari protested, nearly losing focus on her spell in agitation. “But you’re not going to believe me, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Malysseus admitted. “I already visualized the entire thing. As far as I’m concerned—Unicorn forever.”

“Can we be serious for a second?”

“I wanna say yes,” Malysseus said, “but honestly, I’m not sure.”

Kewari sighed, putting her head in her hands. She pulled away from her work, her nose wrinkling at the horrible burning smell. She took a moment to refocus herself and turned back to her healing.

“Listen,” she said. “If you can’t hold still and be serious, you’ll have to finish healing the wound naturally. Healing naturally means sleeping more than usual. Sleeping in means not practicing your lightning magic.”

He stood stock-still for the next fifteen minutes while she finished healing the damage. The wound closed completely—and despite conserving her Mana—she was feeling drained.

“That was a nasty hit,” she said breathlessly as her body started to recover the missing Mana from the ambient world. “Avoid doing that again.”

“We are of the same mind on that one,” Malysseus said merrily as he put his jacket back on. “And thanks a lot for that. Arm feels practically brand new and not on fire.” He maintained a flippant attitude because a captain could never let his crew see him sweat. On the other hand, the inside of his head had been screaming for the past twenty minutes.

“What ended up making the difference, anyway?” Kewari asked, faking a chuckle at his terrible joke. “You’ve been working on the lightning combination for the better part of a decade.”

“Thirty-three isn’t old,” he chastised, momentarily side-stepping the question. “I haven’t the faintest idea. I just started shoving Mana into the spell, hoping it would hold it together. Ended up with lightning-charged crystal strands. In hindsight, that would be something if I could do that on purpose without killing myself.”

He trailed off as he thought about how to create the spell he had accidentally created. Creating crystals was easy, but manipulating them like a whip would be more difficult. Charging it with lightning would be possible once he could effortlessly perform lightning magic. In the end, the not blowing up in his face part was always the most demanding piece.

“Still with me?” Kewari asked, shaking Malysseus from his reverie.

“Yeah. I was thinking about the lightning.”

“You realize that shoving extra Mana into a spell sounds utterly insane, right?”

“Well,” Malysseus said conspiratorially, “I wouldn’t say utterly, precisely. Besides, it’s only insanity if it doesn’t work.”

“Are you busy today? I think I’d better keep an eye on you before you blow yourself up. We could get some food in the galley and sit downstairs. Marcus is cooking today, so I have a feeling it’s going to be better than average.”

He nodded his agreement, swiping the water off the desk. The move left streaks of condensation across the desk, causing the spill to spread to the floor. With that done, he went to the door, politely opening it for Kewari.

“Malysseus?” she mused. “Aren’t you going to do something about that spill?” She turned, obviously staring at the spill in question.

The water from the spill was already dissolving into mist.

***

“I don’t even remotely understand the purpose of this game,” Kewari admitted. “It uses a standard deck of cards, but the rules don’t make sense. What’s it called, again?”

“Opportunity,” a table full of sailors, including Malysseus, said in sync. Malysseus had spent much of the game making jokes referencing the situational irony of calling the game Opportunity while they were on Opportunity seeking an opportunity at sea. No one else had picked up on the allusions yet, even though they had played a half dozen hands, trying to catch Kewari up to the rules.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“So evens always beat odds?” Kewari asked.

“Except for threes. A three can beat anything,” Marcus said. He was taking a break from kitchen duty since no one on the ship liked to do the cooking. And everyone hated the cleaning.

Most of the crew enjoyed a lamb stew Marcus had prepared with onions, cabbage, and peppers. Kewari and Malysseus, on the other hand, had coerced the man into making some pasta for them in the kitchen. The pasta pot was much easier to clean due to its shape. Neither Kewari nor Malysseus would eat lamb because they were both born in farming communities. Malysseus was willing to admit he found the lambs too adorable. Kewari was not.

Besides, Malysseus had decided something about the lamb and the spices smelled funny to him.

The spices in the stew were going to take Marcus quite some time to scrub away. The sailors were still unaware of how much easier their lives would be if their captain utilized his powers to help them. Malysseus did not do that. Instead, he made more jokes about the game.

“Because you always have an even chance to beat the odds,” he said soberly. “The evens are used to create opportunities for you.” Everyone around the table nodded, understanding the rules of the game and unaware of the joke. Another round continued, leaving only Marcus and Malysseus in the game.

“An ace is unbeatable. It stomps out every other card in the game,” Marcus said proudly, throwing his ace of spades onto the table. He rewarded his fantastic play with a hearty slurp of stew. “Hearts is the strongest ace, followed by spades, clubs, and finally diamonds. No sailor in his right mind cares about diamonds.”

“Except a three,” Malysseus reiterated. He tossed out the three of hearts, finishing out the six-card round and securing a victory.

“Should have saved my two,” Marcus muttered. “Accursed twos.”

Another sailor, Samuel, who had been largely silent this round, piped up to explain. “It’s because a two forces a draw,” he explained, directing it to Kewari. “If you throw down a two, it forces everyone to move to the next card. Or, worst case scenario, forces a three-card tiebreaker between the surviving players.”

“Creating another opportunity to win,” Malysseus said cheerily, finally causing a chorus of groans around the table.

“Card games are stupid,” Kewari pointed out, rolling her eyes at him. Everyone around the table agreed but knew there wasn’t much else to do to kill time while sailing. Malysseus, who had paid each sailor for the journey, raked in eight silver coins. His salary was worth a hundred silver coins per week. The money didn’t make any difference to the captain, but he enjoyed the humor in winning his coins back from his men before even reaching their destination.

Before they could start another round, a surging wave slapped into the side of the boat, causing the cards to slide off the table. Navigating through soft waters was easy. Malysseus didn’t need to pay any mind to gentle seas and had been free to roam the ship for days. On the other hand, when a storm was building, the vessel needed tender love and care. The ship needed a captain. He hopped to his feet, shouting orders to the other sailors.

“Man your stations. Kewari, wait here and hang onto the table. It’s bolted down. Marcus, ignore the cleaning for now; I need you upstairs. You’ve got too much muscle to sit on the sidelines right now. Have Samuel help you adjust the sails if you two can manage it. The rest of you stand by. And whatever you do.”

Malysseus looked each sailor in the eye. His expression was grave and contemplative. “Do not go overboard.”

Everyone set about their duties. Kewari held onto the table’s benches, muscles—including firm abs—rippling underneath her tightly fitted coat. Malysseus could not help but notice as he pushed toward the stairs, heading for the wheel. The sight was not helping him keep his feet.

The other sailors started turning green; everyone became sick. Malysseus wondered if the sailors were suffering from whatever they ate. It was possible since the concoction had smelled weird, that some spices or ingredients spoiled. Sailors checked provisions before departure, but the ship had been at sea for weeks. Produce could be going bad, especially if it wasn’t kept at proper temperatures.

Next, Malysseus heard sounds no captain ever wanted: the chorus of a whole crew getting seasick.

Sea was often war, so he quickly pushed his way to the deck, just as he had many times before. When he got to the boat’s deck, he was downright alone. He composed himself, trying to spin the wheel to ride beside, instead of head-on into, a particularly nasty wave. He waited patiently, expecting some crew to reappear as he fought with the ocean. Even a seasick crew would come to their posts as soon as possible.

As the ship reached the storm’s eye, Malysseus narrowed his eyes at nine figures climbing over the sides, railing, and onto the deck of his boat. Each figure was humanoid, with a torso, legs, and neck, but sported a squid instead of a traditional head. The sea was calm. The squid-headed figures made their way towards the platform at the stern of the ship where he captained Opportunity.

He heard the swinging door from below as Kewari stepped onto the deck. She froze, closer to the squid people than he was. None of the crew was behind her.

“Squidlings,” Malysseus spit, making the word sound like a curse.