Beyond the Pale

At Captain's Table

It almost wasn't half bad.

Contrary to what Castorius might have expected, the rest of Captain Malaney's crew did not appear to be quite as uncouth and repulsive as the man himself. This was not the first run-in Castorius had had with members of the Blood Horkers, and he'd long ago come to understand that just because a man was a pirate, it didn't mean he was necessarily rotten through. A little rotten, most likely, but then Castorius was yet to meet a man who did not more or less fit that description.

However, the overall character of the people on board the Brinehammer mattered less. The crew might just as well have been every bit as off-putting as their captain, right down to the last man. It still wouldn't have dimmed any of the glory of their finest feature: their food was excellent!

Castorius was eagerly sucking at his fingers for the remnants of the pepper-and-honey sauce that went with the roasted quail. It had been a good while since he had last gotten to eat that particular savory dish, as the bird did not live this far north. These individuals in question had come all the way from southern Cyrodiil, and had been preserved in salt-barrels. Raiding ships from all across Tamriel was apparently good for more than simply gold.

In addition, there were many courses of more familiar foods: beef—which came roasted, spiced, as well as stewed—mammoth steaks in mammoth-cheese, venison—roasted and in a stew—many different cheeses, grilled vegetables, fresh garlic bread . . . Castorius could not even taste them all before his stomach started to object. It wasn't looking likely he was going to make it to the desserts.

And not only had he been left to eat in peace without being hassled by any attempted conversation, he was also quite pleased that, unlike he'd expected, nobody commented on him skipping the swilling of mead everyone else was hard at. Neither had he gotten any second glances when he'd instead chosen for his beverage a jug of milk that stood on the table, and which everybody else was passing by. Why was it even there in the first place? Whatever the reason, Castorius was happy to drink it, and even happier not to get any of the heckling he usually had to tolerate when he did that.

"Milk-drinker!" they liked to mock, the Nords. It was really quite rich coming from a bunch of butter-gobblers!

Castorius saw Captain Malaney staring at him from across the long trestle table, smirking. He replied with a courteous little simper, hoping the other man would simply continue to leave him be.

No such luck. The Captain leaned forwards, raised his voice over the general chatter. "So, Castorius," he said, "enjoying our humble cuisine, I see." The man's loud voice, dripping with some venomous kind of irony, silenced the commotion. To his displeasure, Castorius found all the pairs of eyes around the table directed at him. Careful, now, he though.

When the man had said "humble" he had obviously not intended his words to be taken at face value.

Castorius took care to finish up his chewing and to swallow before replying. "Oh, yes indeed!" he exclaimed—using all his acting abilities to show keen excitement in place of the inquietude the strange captain's attention actually caused him. "I daresay it has been quite a while since I've last had such a fine meal."

It once again helped that what he said was at least not too far from the truth. He did, however, stop to wonder if he was overplaying it a tad.

Stop thinking!

He looked around, saw the milk-jug in front of him, and since there was nothing more appropriate at hand, picked it up and raised it to the Captain. He only felt mildly stupid doing so, but nobody seemed to make anything of it. Only Roggie was smirking, but the damned bastard was in the habit of doing that anyway. "Thank you, good Captain, for inviting us! It sure has been a pleasure so far." He took the jug to his lips, sipping carefully so as to not acquire a milk-mustache.