St Chaos Healer

Ch 99 - On Board Dagonir

The Dagonir was a merchant ship en route to a faraway island. Along the way, it would make a stop at Isle Continent to drop us off before continuing its journey.

For a Dwarven vessel, I had expected something more... innovative—perhaps some marvel of their famed technology. Instead, the Dagonir was a sturdy but agile ship, with long, colorful sails billowing in the wind. No intricate clockwork mechanisms, no runic engines humming beneath the deck—just a well-crafted, ordinary ship.

Dwarves guarded their technology secrets too closely, relying on traditional ships for their trade routes instead. Or maybe they just simply preferred the simplicity of sail and sea. Who knows?

The sun hung low on the horizon, igniting it in a blaze of orange and crimson, while the sea below shimmered like molten gold. A brisk ocean breeze tugged at my hair as I stood on the wooden stairs leading to the deck, watching the Dwarven crew celebrate in the fading light. Their laughter rang out, sharp and hearty, as they clinked mugs of frothy ale.

Compared to the suspicion and hostility we had faced in the Heirya Kingdom, their warmth felt like a soothing balm. The captain welcomed us with a broad grin, offering a cramped but comfortable cabin for our belongings. After weeks of hiding, it felt like a luxury.

Luc and I finally shed our cloaks, revealing ourselves as humans seeking asylum from enemies who would see us dead. The crew didn't pry into our past; instead, they welcomed us with open arms. Their hospitality was a stark contrast to the world we had left behind. Only the captain and Neyar, the ship's bard, knew Luc's true identity, and I suspected that Neyar was enjoying that knowledge far too much.

A burly Dwarf with a braided beard approached, two mugs in hand.
"To fair winds and new friends!" he bellowed, thrusting the drinks toward us with a grin.

I took mine, the ale's warmth seeping through the tin, while Luc accepted his with a nod, his expression guarded but polite.

The festivities swelled as the crew gathered on deck, their voices rising in a raucous chorus. At the heart of it stood Neyar, his banjo twanging a lively tune. His voice carried over the wind, rich and melodic:

♪ Through Dwarven halls and caverns deep,
You barter gold where horrors sleep.
With hardened heart and whispered breath,
The one who walks and trades with death... ♪

"Oi, Neyar!" a drunken Dwarf hollered, sloshing ale over the deck. "Why's it all Merchant of Death tonight?"

"Aye, where's my ballad 'bout the lass with the golden locks?" another grumbled.

Neyar's eyes flicked to Luc, a sly grin curling his lips. Luc tensed beside me, his hand tightening on the guardrail, his amber gaze darkening with a silent warning. Shut it.

But Neyar only laughed, undeterred.
"Cause I feel like it, ye louts!" he declared, strumming louder as he launched into yet another ode to the Merchant of Death.

Luc groaned, rubbing his temple. "I told him to keep it quiet," he muttered, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "Now he's practically daring someone to figure it out."

I chuckled, leaning closer.
"Relax. Not everyone's sharp enough to connect a bard's tales to the man standing here. They're too busy drinking."

Luc's gaze drifted to the sea, the restless waves catching the last glints of sunlight, shimmering like molten gold. His expression softened, but a shadow of unease lingered in his amber eyes. "If word spreads, I'll be hunted again," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, carried away by the ocean breeze. "I'd rather not spill more blood than I have to."