Help Unwanted

Monquista

Deacon didn't want anything to do with his provided 'help'. He was capable of fixing his mistakes and redeeming himself on his own. Why did he need someone constantly hovering by his side? Was this his punishment, after all? Forced to team-up with a partner, instead of blissfully working on his own? It would be too counter-productive for Kane to do something like this, but he'd given worse punishments to the other Elites before. 

He found Dea’s reaction to the gold… odd . He wondered what her qualifications exactly were. Who was he working with, exactly? Was she as capable as he was told? Her abilities would be tested soon enough. It wouldn’t be right to pass judgment so soon…But he was going to keep an eye on her regardless. 

He spent that night recording the amount of gold in his journal, to budget what they had. The finances were provided to pay their officers, and in the case they’d have to repair the ship. Rarely, it was used to compensate for overnight shelter on an island. The knowledge that Armada marines carried gold onboard wasn’t unknown to pirates - which explained the attacks on fleets lately. Counting how much they were given…it was clear Kane was taking precautions.

When he was done, he sat at his desk for a long time, debating on what he should do. Eventually, he caved in to his curiosities. He did his own worth of background checking that night, on his ‘ co-captain’. It wasn’t an easy feat, since he knew so little of Dea. Her identity was a mystery to him. He checked some recent documents that had been filed. There were a couple of promotions that caught his interest - and how they tied to The Executioner. But the names had been purposely redacted, bringing an abrupt end to his research.

He felt irritated. He liked finding information, to know things in advance. It was obvious this would not be the case. He’d have to learn about her over time, to yield any useful results. It’s not like Deacon wanted to know anything personal about her…but what her credentials exactly were . 

. . .  

He boarded the ship that next morning, carrying his belongings to bring for the three-month-departure. The crewmembers were preparing to set sail, ensuring everything was ready. He found Dea already onboard, admiring the captain’s wheel. Deacon found this an opportune time to speak with her. He climbed the steps and tapped his cane to announce his presence.

She lifted her masked chin. “ Buenos días , Captain.” 

“‘Morning. I’ve made sure everything is counted for.” 

Knowing he’d be pestered about it otherwise, he handed her his journal. She looked through his list before humming. “And here I was, wondering if you took some for yourself… or shorted me at all-” 

“-You seem to care an awful lot about gold.” He commented, testing the wheel. 

“I’ve been duped before.” She murmured, returning the small book. He looked at her judgmentally. The subject couldn’t help finding its way back into his mind. 

“What was it exactly you were doing before this..?” He signaled to the crewmembers to ready their sails. “You were obviously not a Captain. If not, then-” 

“- Ah , ah .” She cut him off, waving a finger. “I know exactly where this leads. You ask me little questions, then use whatever I say to find the smallest hint about my identity. Queen made it clear we don’t have to know anything about each other.” 

“I don’t care who you are. I’m worried about how qualified you are to serve beside me.” He retorted. 

“Oh! I forgot I was working with an Elite. Should I bow down to you and start polishing your shoes as well?”