A Good Man Awakens

The Great Cabin

The Lady Val'shar had been at sea for the past forty-three days. Leaving the docks of Kilmoric on the high tide, the wind at her back and expecting to be in Calemion before the month was out. But the rough seas and new, inexperienced crew members had slowed the vessel down, along with irritating its captain, the tiredness on his face plain to see as he slouched in his chair.

Three loud thuds reverberated on the great cabin's heavy wooden door, creaking the thick door frame and making the ironmongery flex and fill the room with a hundred distinct tones of metallic clattering. Each sound absorbing into the oak and larch of the great cabin. Leaving only the roar of the ocean and distant shouts and moans from the crew, working the deck outside.

Captain Kre looked up from his slouched position behind his desk, his eyes sunken and bloodshot red, hidden behind deep circles of black. He paused for a moment before answering the knock at the door and took a long drink from the tankard in front of him, wiping the spillage from his matted beard with the back of his hand. The drink glazed his eyes over, disguising the weariness from within them.

"What is it! What do you swines want?" Captain Kre barked, his voice rough and hoarse as if his words were just dust from the sandstorms of Sira.

"We... we... we have the prisoner Captain, as you ordered." a nervous voice responded from the other side of the heavy door.

The ship heaved to one side, distant voices rising in a crescendo.. Barrels and stacked boxes tumbled around the captain's room as candles swung in their restraints. Water seeped in from small seams and cracks in the wooden walls as the ship righted itself, the Lady Val'shar moaning as her supports took the weight.

Captain Kre straightened in his chair. Whether the drink was taking effect or the news of the prisoner's arrival had stirred him. His eyes sharpened as he pulled his lip over his teeth, a grimace spreading across his face.

"What are you waiting for? Bring him in! I told you five bells ago!" Kre snapped, though it had been less than two bells. Keeping them on their toes wasn't the worst idea, he mused. The High Lord Arcana had forced three dozen of his adepts into the crew, and Kre didn't trust them. He didn't trust the High Lord, either.

Two of his original crew, Seamon and Sled, had already gone missing during the voyage. Deaths weren't unusual in these waters, but this time there was no blood, no snapped lines—just gone. He'd interrogated everyone, even his own men, but found nothing. Still, he'd bet his last dram of rum that there was more to it. Seamon and Sled were seasoned sailors, used to far murkier waters than these. Something was off, and it wasn't just the cook's broth.

The wooden door swung open and a gust of fresh salty air whisked around the great cabin, flickering the candles in their holders, the light dancing off the walls as the wet, musty air inside blew away. Two burly crewmen stood in the doorway, holding up a half-naked young man between them.

They had fastened weathered metal shackles to each of the young man's wrists. Stretching his arms above his head by rusted chains that were secured to each shackle. The prisoner's arms suspended over his head like in a pose one might make if they were diving into the ocean. Except here. The young man's head hung limp. There was no grace or conviction. His feet twisted to one side, as his knees and shins scraped along the damp wooden floor, as if a dead carcass were being pulled from the slaughter.

"Sit him there," Captain Kre ordered, pointing to a chair opposite his desk. "And make sure those bindings are tight. I reckon this one's as slippery as an oiled-up Faye." He eyed the two men with thinly veiled contempt

The crewmen dumped the young man into the chair. One of them stayed behind, pressing the prisoner's shoulders firmly into the seat. The other crewman removed one shackle from the young man's right arm, fed it through a large metal ring bolted to the floor, and clasped it back onto the young man's wrist, locking him in place.