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Claude and Victor stepped off of the boarding ramp and onto the deck of the ship. Gulls were circling around the mast and perching on the sails. Looking towards the front of the ship, Claude could see the next Port over, Port 2-A. A smaller ship was docked there. Most likely, it was one of the Council's patrol ships.
In the Yellowdale Kingdom, there was no ruling King, despite its name. Power was divided between several different bureaucrats within the country. Each one had some amount of power over different sections of the Kingdom, but the bureaucrat who held power in Port Rap had just recently died, which helped to spur the Council of Virtuous Parley's power in the area. Until another bureaucrat was appointed to power, the Council's Defense Division had been protecting the ships of the bay with their scout and battle vessels.
Claude turned away from the bay and towards the back of the ship, where the Captain's Quarters was held. Stepping softly over to the door, he rapped on the door, which opened immediately. Claude stepped past the crew member that had opened the door and into the room. Lining the walls were a bed, plenty of dressers, and several chests. At the back of the room was the captain, at his desk. His chair was turned slightly, and when they stepped into the room, he looked away from the back windows of the ship to greet them.
Claude looked the man up and down, defining the man in his mind. His hair was a dirty grey, and it reached down to his shoulders. The man's eyes were hazel colored, but the wrinkles around his face forced an image of unhealthiness. Normally, those eyes would have sparked with a handsome glow.
The man's shoulders were broad, like those of a warrior, and Claude was cautious of the several weapons that were placed all over the walls. "Quite an arsenal you have here, Captain," he said, noting the spears, swords, maces, and axes of all shapes and sizes.
The man answered in a gruff voice, "Thank you, young Master. I've prided myself on my collection so far. But, I promise, it's not complete just yet."
Claude's eyebrows raised at the remark. He was slightly impressed. "Where did you find so many splendid pieces?"
"As a humble member of The Seven Swords, I agreed to seeking out the seven swords of Aias, the legendary father of Alnia. One of the greatest smiths known to mankind. His power was so mighty that he was considered a deity among smiths. With a quest such as that, my collection grows every day."
Claude admired the craftsmanship of the weapons along the walls, and it urged him to ask, "Just how many of the seven swords have you found? Why did you select these pieces?"
The captain laughed at the question. "My boy, all of these weapons that you see on the walls here were forged by Aias himself. According to the stories, Aias forged weapons of sorts. But those seven swords were said to be his most powerful and perfect pieces. They were forged as a set, and they were to be distributed across Lelantos, to the rulers, back when the country was divided."
Claude stepped over to a large halberd on the wall. It was posted horizontally, and was surrounded by four daggers above and two hand axes below. The blade was hourglass-shaped, and had a tip that was like an arrow. Celtic knots decorated the blade.
The captain spoke up, interrupting Claude's admiration. "We were informed of the situation, and I have prepared a place for you at the helm of the ship. My crew and I will be sure that you are well taken care of as your officers arrive throughout the day."
Victor scoffed, remembering the crew on the deck. The majority of them were unarmed and looked to be untrained, but he cleared his throat in order to distract from the rude gesture. "Excuse me," he said, coughing loudly.
"Thank you, Captain. We will attempt to not interrupt the process of taking inventory and unloading your shipment," Claude said, stepping back to the door. Victor followed him out.
Arvur sighed once he saw their shadows pass from the small stained-glass window of the door. "By Aias, that was terrifying. That boy's eyes never change. Always so cold and empty."
He turned his chair back to the window and watched the port behind him, Port 2-C. There, another ship was in the middle of docking. Ropes were being thrown to the dock, and the men were climbing down rope ladders and placing ramps. His mind was in a completely different place than the scene before him, however. "I hope Ardid isn't discovered. Especially since he took the guise of our head chef. He'll be making food for Claude and the others all day long."
Ardid sprinkled some salt into the soup before him. He waved some of the wafting scent into his nostrils and sighed happily as the pleasing scent penetrated his consciousness. "Perfect."
He could hear the footsteps on the deck above as someone boarded the ship. "Seems like it's just about time." Putting a lid on the pot before him, he moved towards the washbasin across the small room. He began to busily scrub at the silver plates, bowls, goblets, and silverware.
He could hear the creak of the Captain's Quarters door as it opened. Perspiration began to appear on his forehead, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand gently. He took off the chef's hat once he had finished with the dishes. After he placed the hat on a shelf, he removed the net from his hair, letting it fall down the length of his back.
Replacing the hat, he began to dish out the soup into bowls. Putting heavy gloves on, he reached into the brick oven to his left and pulled out three loaves of bread. It was thick and smelled of butter and cinnamon. "Also perfect!" he laughed to himself, cutting into the bread with a knife. He placed two thick pieces onto each plate before him, and was left with one loaf once all the plates had been filled.
He placed the bowls onto the free space of the plates and proceeded to line up the goblets. He only filled two of them, but left the other four in line. He pushed three of the finished dishes to his side, and, after dousing the fire in the oven, he placed the pot of soup into it. He also placed the other plates into the oven, hoping that the leftover heat would keep the dishes warm until the other officers arrived.
He heard the door of the Captain's Quarters open once more and slam shut. Footsteps followed the sound, and they disappeared as they moved farther up, towards the helm. "Just in time," Ardid remarked. Calling over to one of the kitchen crew, he pushed the three plates to him and gave him orders to bring the dishes to the ship's visitors and the captain.
"Of course, Head Chef," the young man said, taking the plates and lining them along his arms. Ardid placed the goblets onto the plates once the man had them balanced. Carefully walking away, he skillfully carried the dishes, bringing them out onto the deck.
"Hopefully, the brandy will do as the plan suggests," Ardid remarked, watching him go.
Claude and Victor ate the food voraciously, and the captain, who had joined them shortly after they left, picked at the soup with his spoon. He was anxiously awaiting the day to come to an end, even though it had only just begun a few hours ago.
As Arvur sat throughout the hours, he warmed up to Claude, eventually playing card games with him and talking more about legends and his adventures as the member of The Seven Swords with the most artifacts of Aias. Victor went back to the guild hall, and Victor was replaced with Lorelis. More hours went by, and Lorelis was replaced by Sylvestor. Even more hours went by and Sylvestor was replaced by Henrik, who was the last of the officers.
As Henrik stepped up to the helm of the ship, he sat down at the table that was set up for them. At this point, Claude had fallen asleep, and Arvur was sitting quietly. Henrik watched as a young man placed a dish of soup and bread on the table as he arrived, just as the other officers were treated.
He looked at the dish before him and rubbed his bald head, sighing as he picked up his spoon, dipping it into the soup. "He really needs to learn a new dish," he said, looking up at Arvur.
Arvur laughed and glanced at Claude, paranoid that he might hear. Henrik dismissed his paranoia, "It's fine, he won't wake up. He's been awake for two days straight, after all. Besides, I'm sure Ardid probably provided enough brandy to keep him out for the next week," Henrik joked.
Arvur smiled, watching Henrik as he sipped his soup from the spoon. "So, are you going to be the one to let me in on what's going on?" he asked, hinting at the events of today.
Henrik shrugged, "Honestly, I don't know what Claude is all worked up about. It's not the first time that an officer of the Council has been targeted for an assassination. The boy doesn't even know if the assassination attempt from the other night was a success or a failure. For all he knows, the assassination was already carried out."
Arvur considered the situation and tapped his fork on the table. Leaning his elbow on the table, he placed his chin in his hand and watched the waves lapping at the ports. "What if Claude is right? What if someone is still a target within the Council?"
"Well, we'll find that out soon enough, won't we?" Henrik, remarked, giggling to himself.
Arvur couldn't wrap his head around how the man could be so lighthearted when he could potentially be the victim of an assassination. "Well, if the assassin is still at large, either you or Claude is the target," he informed with a frown.
Henrik smiled at Arvur, waving the notion away. "The only thing anyone would gain from killing me is the right to say that he or she killed an old man. Nothing more!" he continued to laugh, his laugh lines showing along his cheeks. His brown robes were gently blowing in the wind, as he composed himself.
They continued speaking for a few more hours until the sun went down. Claude was still sound asleep, so Henrik remarked, "We just might have to stay the night, you know."
Arvur did not appreciate the jest. He could only keep his guise for so long. "I'm afraid that might not be possible, Henrik."
Henrik smiled and looked out at the bay. The moons' reflections were rolling with the waves as the sea beat at the boat's hull. The majority of the crew had gone to their cots below the deck and were most likely getting drunk or passing out. The two men sat in silence with Claude quietly snoozing between them.
Henrik began to stand from his seat and moved to Claude. He intended to wake him from his sleep, and then the two would most likely head back to the guild hall. As Henrik placed his hand on Claude's shoulder to shake him awake, his eyes widened. He looked at Arvur and yelled, "Look out!"
The crossbow bolt whizzed through the air from the mast above. Its trajectory was perfect. It grew nearer and nearer to Arvur's throat. In a fraction of a second, Arvur's sight was blotted out by a black-cloaked figure. The light of the moon reflected off of the blade of a halberd as it spun through the air around the figure. The bolt was cut clean in half and fell onto the table to each side of the figure.
"Quickly, get Henrik and Claude out of here. It's me they're after," Ardid said, hopping down from the table. He spun the halberd around his black cloak and jumped down to the deck to face the newfound enemy.
 Ty-Harukii · Sat Jul 08, 2017 @ 12:01am · 0 Comments |
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