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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Twenty: Penurious Care

“Three-sixty-five, three-sixty-six, and three-sixty-seven... Three-hundred and sixty-seven coins, and all large gold!"

Mairlynn stares in awe at the pile of coins she'd just finished counting. Stacked in rows of ten, and taking up the entire tabletop, it's an impressive sight for most of the crew.

“Huh! I didn't think it'd be that much!" Steingar remarks.

“I can only imagine how much was actually in that chest." Jarae comments with a little chuckle.

“Thirty-six thousand and seven hundred vasariks is quite a haul." Kirsta interjects.

“If I recall correctly, that's about twenty-two thousand more than what I paid for Arona's unfinished hull." Trellan says with a little grin.

“And that's not even all of it." Mairlynn smirks.

“Hey, we did the work. It's only fair that Valan, Jarae and I get to keep a coin purse or two." Steingar casually boasts.

“I guess we'll be set for a while now, won't we?" Mairlynn turns to Valan.

Sitting on a bench in the lounge, in the corner furthest from the dining booth, Valan seems to glare at the pile of coins. He seethes with anger and frustration. Holding the silver goblet of his deceased father, he takes another swig of fortified wine.

“Are you alright?" Mairlynn asks, showing a hint of concern.

“I'm fine." He answers with a sigh.

The others turn their heads, looking toward Valan. He clearly isn't himself. They don't think much of it, as only a few hours ago he was being mercilessly tortured by Rokig. Only the surprise return of Irzain's powerful Halcyon magic has saved him from deformation and potentially death.

“Well, do you think we'll be set for a while?" Trellan asks.

“Don't know. Don't care." Valan murmurs.

“Really?!" Kirsta raises a brow.

“That's a surprise." Steingar adds.

“And why's that?" Valan glares at them.

“Well, you've sort of been our de facto treasurer." Irzain begins.

“You got us started by donating your coins when you came aboard, and then you kept tabs on our expenditures. I just assumed you liked it, and that you'd keep doing that." Trellan takes over.

“Well, you assumed wrong." Valan rises to his feet, drinking the last bit of wine in his goblet. “Someone else can do it. I don't want to see those coins again."

Without uttering another word, he leaves the lounge and heads for his cabin, abandoning the rest of the crew as they stare at the piles of money.

“I wonder what's bothering him." Mairlynn remarks.

“A better question is what're we going to do with all of these coins." Kirsta swiftly changes the subject.

“We can store them in the same chest." Trellan replies.

“Who'll keep tabs on it then?" Steingar asks.

“I don't mind!" Mairlynn chirps.

“You?!" Steingar scoffs.

“I can count! You just saw me!" The dainty elf retorts.

“It's just that-"

“I only look young." Mairlynn cuts Kirsta off.

The others soon forget the gunman's barely subdued discontent as they discuss who will guard their money, but Irzain cannot. Sitting in the room and eating a piece of fresh bread and some cheese, he sits in silence as the rest of the crew debate amongst themselves. Irzain's mind wanders, and he recalls all that's happened. It's not just the events of the past few days, but the events that haunt his dreams as well. The horrors race through his mind, planting poisonous seeds of doubt and fear. The only thing that brings him any real comfort is the crew of the ship.

Looking around the room, he feels eased by their presence; they're like a family to him. Glancing back at the archway, Valan's anxiousness, his poorly hidden anger and melancholy, eat away at Irzain. Why are the others so quick to ignore someone in distress? Perhaps if he showed his concern, he might be able to help Valan? Perhaps the others might see their bond as a crew and begin to feel the same as him? Rising up from his seat, Irzain leaves the lounge with nary a word; no one seems to notice. Heading down the hall, only the sounds of the creaking wood and sloshing water outside are heard.

Nearing Valan's cabin door, Irzain raises a balled fist, preparing to knock. However, he pauses when he sees the door is wide open. Inside, Valan stares into a drawer, moving slowly as he removes a handful of coins from a pocket and his accessory pouch. The rest of the coins he'd contributed to the pile. He casually tosses over one thousand vasariks into a drawer, before shoving it closed with an angry push. He grumbles to himself as he removes his belt and custom-built pistols, tossing them carelessly onto a chair in the corner of his room.

“Hey." Irzain steps into Valan's room and sits on his cot. “Do you have a minute?"

“I have all the time left in my life." Valan speaks softly, staring at the floor.

“So... Are you alright?"

“... And I don't want to talk about it."

“Figures..." Irzain sighs.

Valan moves away from the nightstand and sits atop his cot, beside Irzain. He turns his head, focusing on the porthole and staring outside. The warm sun and bright blue sky are so serene, betraying the nightmarish things he'd seen only hours earlier. The gunman stares, his eyes turning glossy as he seems to peer beyond the horizon, as if looking at something drifting in the vastness of space. Irzan watches him closely. Valan doesn't even notice the older man's concerned gaze, which should otherwise feel like a hot, lead ball burrowing through his skull.

“Are you sure?"

Valan doesn't respond, still staring intently out of the porthole from where he sits.

“... You never know. It might make you feel better."

“What is it with you? Why do you always want to talk? Why the hell do you care what's going on with the rest of us?" Valan suddenly snaps, swiftly turning his head and glaring at him.

“We're all on the same boat... Literally! We're a crew, but I feel like we're more than that. We're more like a family."

“Pfft. Some family." Valan grumbles, turning his eyes toward the floor.

“You don't think so?"

“No." Valan snickers, looking down at the floor and shaking his head.

“Why not?" Irzain asks, hoping for a dialogue.

“None of us are bonded. Do you think they even care what happens to either of us?"

“Yes."

“Then you're a fool. A stupid, naïve fool, with severe memory loss."

“Prove me wrong."

Valan turns his head, his eyes widening and his brow raised in surprise as Irzain challenges him.

“Go on. I'm waiting."

Valan pauses. He turns his eyes away, once again gazing out of the porthole. Is he thinking, or has Irzain cornered him, proving his point?

“You did what you did to provide for the rest of us, Valan. No one made you or even asked; it was of your own volition. Steingar, too! When it didn't go as planned, Jarae risked her life to save yours. She could've left you in that dungeon to die, but she didn't. From the story that you yourself have told us, it sounds like she spent a whole night shadowing you, for your safety, and from Steingar's story, it's obvious that he was going back for you. When they brought you back injured, I found it in me to use Halcyon magic to heal you. I did it for Kirsta, too. Remember? The others might not have acted, but I think they were just afraid of failing."

“So, that's your proof?"

“You have to admit, it's compelling." Irzain smirks.

“Possibly... So, where are they now? If we're supposed to be this 'family' of ragtag misfits that you seem to think we are, why are you the only one here talking to me? Why are the rest of them counting money?"

“Well, they-"

“I'll tell you why." Valan interrupts him. “It's because that was the whole point. Yeah, Jarae saved me, but she also tore that barbed coat off of me, knowing it would hurt me, and not knowing that you could heal me. She'd never seen your magic. Steingar saw the Regent's bribe chest and immediately halted our escape to fill every bag, pocket and box that he could carry. He never stopped to think that the Romos' guards might be wandering around to catch us in the act, and there were plenty of them floating around. Jarae, who so graciously plucked me from death's door, and was half carrying me, dropped me at the mere sight of the gold. None of them listened to me when I suggested we leave it and go... I left out that part; I was the one who told them to abandon the gold, and they didn't..."

Irzain is speechless as Valan rambles, his eyes welling with tears at this point. The gunman sniffles, lowering his head.

“And none of them cared about how they earned that blood money... People died, Irzain. Good people. I don't even think Bolum Braka or his wife, Mozafia, were criminals. They were just rich and influential, and what rich family can't buy the Sheriff if they wanted to? At the very least, they truly loved Lucerna. Their family didn't matter to anyone but them, and I'm no different. I watched an innocent, lovesick girl being murdered, before she was left to rot in the street with her mother and father. I deflowered her; seduced her for a scheme to steal coins! Virginity is supposed to be sacred, but I didn't even love her! What kind of monster am I?! She didn't deserve that! And who here even cares?! ... They'd rather count the damn money!"

Breaking down, Valan places his face into his palms and weeps. Irzain is still speechless. He never expected this when he came to talk to Valan. He'd imagined the gunman, who's otherwise so calm and collected, to disregard his offer. Maybe he'd share what he'd already suspected, before making a quip about Irzain's concern, suggesting it was actually concealed homosexuality? The mental image almost made Irzain laugh, but this? The middle-aged man feels nothing but intense pity for the sobbing gunman, who's guilt is clearly overwhelming him. Valan sniffles and wipes his eyes with his palms.

“Just... Get out and leave me alone. Go do your own thing, like everyone else is."

To Irzain's shock and horror, he finds himself rising from the cot and heading for the door. Why is he leaving when Valan is so obviously distraught? What is allowing him to simply retreat from a troubled companion? It doesn't matter. Irzain leaves the room and traverses the hall, before entering his own cabin. Sitting atop his cot, Irzain ponders Valan's words, feeling a knot growing in the pit of his stomach. He can't possibly be correct... Can he? Overcome with curiosity, Irzain makes his way back to the lounge, reappearing without anyone taking notice.

He sits in the same seat he'd had before he left, watching the rest of the crew as they sit around the table of the dining booth. Steingar plays with a few vasariks, spinning the coins atop the table. Kirsta and Mairlynn scoop them into their containers, while Trellan makes a note of their value, all while they exchange banter.

“So, say we had shares... What would you buy with this?" Mairlynn looks between Kirsta and Jarae.

“I've always wanted a mirror and brush set, for my fur and hair, but I could also use some powdered Silphium. I'd probably buy that first." Jarae answers.

“Big surprise there. Using it all on Valan, or did you find a new owner?" Steingar snickers.

“Shut up!" She snarls.

Jarae takes a coin from the table and tosses it at Steingar's head. He catches it in mid-air, places it atop the table and spins it, adding it to the others that he's already playing with.

“I could use some new clothes, and a high-grade wilderness survival kit... Like the kind Luvel had." Kirsta speaks softly, loosing herself in her memories.

“I could make you one of those for nothing!" Steingar chuckles.

“If you had a share, what would you want, big guy?" Mairlynn asks the Helngar.

“I don't need a share; I have my new, private stash, and as soon as we're on an island with more substance, I'm going to replace my lost bloodforge armor and Helngarian sabre!"

“Good idea. What about you, Mairlynn? What do you want?" Kirsta wonders.

“I just want a dildo."

The others burst out in laughter, simultaneous amusing and offending the dainty, childlike, Falmun woman.

“What?!" She asks with a confused smile. “I've heard good things!"

“Yeah, I bet you have." Steingar snickers.

“Aren't those usually made of wood?" Jarae asks.

“Yeah."

“And you aren't afraid of splinters?!"

“They're covered in leather."

“I'm surprised you don't have one already." Kirsta giggles.

“I would if I had some clay for a mold, and if the boys would lie still long enough. Steingar tosses and turns too much." The little elf winks.

“How do you know that?!" Steingar gasps.

“Now I know why Valan locks his door." Trellan quips.

“What about you, old man? What do you want? These are really all your vasariks anyway." Kirsta wonders.

“I honestly have everything I want, but I suppose a full complement of pitania-coal and maybe some tinned meat would be nice. I do so miss chicken and pork when I'm at sea. Steak, too! Oh, and there's a newer, more accurate ship compass I might consider installing." Trellan answers.

“Boring!" Mairlynn pretends to falls asleep. “At least mine is cheap, fun, and doesn't involve emptying a chamber pot later."

“Hey, we forgot the wizard!" Steingar exclaims.

“What about you, Irzain? What would you want?" Kirsta asks.

Finally noticing his presence, the others look to him.

“My memories."

“... Something you can buy." Kirsta sighs in frustration.

Irzain silently shrugs his shoulders.

“Well, whatever it is, I'm sure we can afford it. Anyway, I need to make sure Arona stays on course. As fast as we're going, we'll probably reach Bremen during the night." Trellan remarks.

“So soon?!" Kirsta gasps.

“Oh, yes! I've set Arona to 'Seraph's Sprint', the highest speed she can reach. With the fuel we have, we can be there in under a day, but I'll slow us down even more so we can at least get a night's rest. By dawn, we should be ready to dock, assuming they have docks."

“Oh, good! Maybe now we can find out who you are!" Mairlynn chirps.

“And then you might finally be out of our hair." Kirsta snickers.

“And fur." Steingar laughs.

“Would you mind taking care of these?" Trellan asks, waving a hand over the table covered in gold vasariks.

“I'm on it!" Mairlynn chirps, giving him a mock salute.

“Good! And remember, I know how much we have." Trellan adds, slowly inching his way out of the booth.

“What?" Mairlynn grins.

“Don't you trust us?" Steingar asks with an innocent smile.

The old Vizhek pauses, glancing toward the Helngar, the Jaliscan, the Falmun and the two humans. With a little smirk, he slides out of the dining booth, before making his way toward the archway. Trellan pats Irzain on the shoulder as he passes him. True to her word, Mairlynn gathers each and every vasarik, being careful not to misplace a single one. She dashes through the hall several times, the sacks and coin laden box jingling as her spindly legs carry her back and forth. She places their loot into the large, oaken chest that Valan had brought aboard, left within the miniscule cargo hold.

The others remain in the lounge, keeping themselves busy; Mairlynn joins them as soon as she's finished stowing the treasure. Just as Valan had said, the others seem content to entertain themselves with cards, conversation, food and drink. None of them force interaction with Irzain, aside from Mairlynn's perpetual flirtations. He joins them, however, enjoying their company. None of them bother to check on the decidedly absent Valan. After a little while, the crew disperse, beginning with Jarae, who was the quietest among them. As she heads for her cabin, a curious Irzain gently pushes Mairlynn away from his side, preventing her attempts to snuggle with him.

“Where are you going, stud?!" The dainty Falmun asks.

“I'm just a little tired." Irzain casually answers, dismissing her.

“But it's so early!" Mairlynn whimpers.

“Hey, you can only be molested for so long before you're worn out." Kirsta quips.

“He liked it!" Mairlyn grins.

“I'm sure you think that of everyone." Steingar chuckles.

Peeking through the archway and leaning against the frame, Irzain watches as Jarae plants herself in the center of the hallway. With her head turned sharply to the left, she peers inside of Valan's cabin, the door of which Irzain hadn't closed when he left. For a moment, Irzain wonders why Mairlynn didn't use the opportunity to make yet another move on Valan, who always seems to be the primary target for her sexual advances.

“Hey." Jarae finally speaks, stepping closer to his room.

“Yeah?" Valan sniffles.

“Aww, look at the little girl, crying all alone." She mockingly coos, leaning against Valan's cabin doorframe and peering inside.

“What do you want?" He sniffles again.

Jarae straightens her body, her expression softening. Irzain can see the pity and heartache written all over her face. In an instant, however, her attitude changes; her shimmering, pink eyes close tightly and she bares her teeth, overcoming her own feelings.

“Rrr... Don't get an attitude with me!" She snarls, pointing a clawed finger at him. “If you want to cry alone, like a baby, that's your right! After all, you're just a soft, gushy, ignorant human; you can't help being a burden!"

“How understanding of you..." He grumbles back.

“Shut up! ... Now, if you want someone to talk to, that someone is me." She speaks rather sternly as she steps inside of his room.

“I didn't know you cared." He says with genuine gratefulness.

“I-I uh, I don't!" Jarae stops in her tracks, her tail poking partially into the hallway. “Th-this is just to help you, a-and nothing else! ... So, don't get any ideas!"

“Oh..." He lets out a doleful sigh.

“I don't want to be so close to you, listening to your pathetic whining. We just need to keep the crew together, for however long we're going to be stuck with each other. As good a shot as you are, we need you ready for anything when we land. It's okay; this is all just between us. I promise. Unlike Mairlynn, my word is actually worth something."

Stepping further inside and shutting his cabin door behind her, Irzain can hear their now muffled voices and the squeaking of the cot as the Jaliscan sits beside the human. With a silent chuckle, the middle-aged human shakes his head.

“It's too bad she isn't a good liar when she's talking about herself. I wonder if he sees it, too?" He thinks aloud.

Returning to his own cabin, Irzain looks through the porthole in his room. He gazes at the ocean waves, the navy-blue ruffles with snowy caps lapping at the ship's hull. It somehow feels so familiar to him. Closing his eyes, he suddenly feels a throbbing on the back of his head. His eyes shoot open and he spins around. Blood trickles down the back of his neck, a crimson river cascading over his form. His vision blurs. He turns back to look, staring in horror at what stands behind him. Holding a bludgeon of some kind, a cloaked figure with shimmering, emerald eyes glares at him.

The sinister being swiftly grasps at his throat with their free hand, clutching him with considerable strength. So powerful is their grip, he knows that it could only be a male who's attacking him, but there are no male Jaliscans aboard the Arona-Dahl. Irzain hastily grabs at the throat of his attacker, who raises their bludgeon high above their head. Irzain is swift to take hold of their other wrist, struggling with his assailant for control of the weapon.

“By order of the King, you must be purged!" The shadow man growls with a raspy voice.

With a quick twist, he throws Irzain to the floor. The helpless human barely has the time to cover his own head in self-defense before it's too late. He waits and waits, but nothing happens; a further assault never comes. Slowly opening his eyes again, he stares at the floor of the Arona-Dahl. The pain in his head is now but a memory. He rolls onto his side, looking around at an empty room. Slowly pushing himself up, he now realizes that he hadn't ever left and no one had entered his cabin; it was only another flashback. This one, though, was the most vivid of them all. He could've sworn it was real.

Rising to his feet, he turns toward the porthole and is startled to see that the sun is nearly setting. Has he slept all day, and on the floor?! Racing out of his cabin, he passes an opened door. Taking a moment to glance inside, Mairlynn stands in Kirsta's cabin, directly behind the seated Kirsta. The elf wears only her night robe, an extra cloak from Valan's chest, fashioned from red velvet. The diminutive Falmun brushes the human's flowing blonde hair.

“See? I told you it'd look better without all of those knots." Mairlynn remarks.

“For once, you were right." Kirsta smirks.

“That's why you should always listen to your elders."

“Elder?!" Kirsta snickers.

“I'm twice your age, remember?" Mairlynn playfully taps Kirsta's head with the back of the brush. “Forty-five to your what... Twenty? Twenty-two?"

“I keep forgetting. With your looks and mannerisms, you're like the little sister I never had."

Feeling Irzain's presence, Mairlynn shifts her little body, her right side facing him. The dainty elf's lips curl into a smile as her ruby eyes gaze at the man who stands in the hallway. She turns a little more, not quite facing him.

“Well, hello there, mister wizard. Care to join us?" She coos.

Kirsta turns around atop her stool, glancing back at Irzain. Just then, Mairlynn pulls the golden cord that's tied around her waist, breaking the knot. It falls away and her velvet robe opens; she reveals her taut yet supple body to him. Lightly tanned flesh and perky little breasts are very obviously those of an adult woman's, but her stature of four-foot-nine and the soft shape of her face is deceiving. His eyes take in her upper body, causing him to impulsively scan her admittedly appealing form, getting a good look at the smooth curves leading to her underused womanhood, and the soft looking, neatly trimmed, golden pubic hair that covers it.

“Er... No thanks!" He swiftly averts his eyes, his face flushing.

“Hmph! Fine!" Mairlynn grumbles, closing her robe and retying the cord, concealing her body.

“Well... You're a skanky, sex-crazed little sister, but a sister nonetheless." Kirsta quips.

“If you were a good big sister, you'd find me a sturdy, endowed boyfriend to keep me busy, then maybe I wouldn't be so skanky." Mairlynn remarks as she casually continues brushing her hair.

Leaving the two women, Irzain makes his way through the ship. He doesn't see anyone else; the lounge is empty, and the doors to the other cabins are ajar, revealing no one inside. Heading up the steps and through the watertight hatch, which was left open, Irzain finds Jarae sitting atop the steps that lead to the pilothouse, above Trellan's cabin. With a tiny paring knife in her clawed hands, she whittles a large piece of pitania infused coal. However, her shimmering, pink eyes stare at something other than her work.

Inside of the pilothouse, the human sees the old Vizhek as he teaches the Helngar warrior how to operate the Arona-Dahl. Valan is also inside of the pilothouse, looking over a series of maps laid out on his lap. Taking a second look, it's clear to Irzain that Jarae stares intently at the long-haired human, and not Trellan or Steingar. With a little chuckle, Irzain heads for the pilothouse. He climbs the steps, startling Jarae. How did she not notice him coming with her superior senses? She must be very focused to ignore Irzain's presence.

“Don't do that!" She snarls, swiftly hiding the lump of coal in her hands.

“I'm sorry. I was just-"

She doesn't allow him the chance to respond; jumping up from the steps and pushing him aside, she hastily retreats to the lower decks. After watching her with some concern, Irzain makes his way into the pilothouse.

“Alright, now turn the wheel twenty degrees to your left; the new heading is three-thirteen." Trellan instructs.

The wheel clicks as Steingar turns. Though his arms move with confidence, the Helngar looks uneasy.

“Is this alright?"

“Indeed! You're doing well, Steingar! I knew you were a natural the moment I laid eyes on you!" Trellan assures him.

“Oh! Good!" Steingar breathes a sigh of relief.

“Why does the wheel click like that?" Valan asks, looking away from his maps.

“It's a ratcheting gear that controls the rudder, but I further modified it so that it can lock into place, that way Arona can stay on course without anyone around!" Trellan chirps.

“Fascinating." Irzain and Valan remark simultaneously.

“Oh, hello, mister wizard!"

“I already have a given-name; you're going to confuse me." Irzain quips.

“We'll take that chance." Trellan retorts.

Valan stares at the helm with such intensity, that it draws both Trellan's and Steingar's eyes. They wondering why the human is suddenly so interested in it. Shifting his gaze, Steingar turns his head toward Irzain.

“So, where've you been all day, mister wizard?" Steingar asks.

“I-I uh... I h-had another flashback."

“Really?!" Trellan sounds intrigued.

“Was it good?" Steingar prods.

“Not exactly..."

Turning his body toward the older human, an increasingly curious Steingar clicks the wheel a few notches. Trellan is quick to remind him of their heading, snapping Steingar back into action. Irzain takes a seat in a chair built into the corner of the pilothouse, watching curiously as Valan makes his way toward the wheel, leaving his maps on his seat. He carefully examines the exposed gears and ratcheting teeth of the helm. Without saying a word, or having even acknowledged Irzain's presence, Valan suddenly takes off, darting outside and toward the lower decks.

“Huh... I wonder what's wrong with him." Steingar remarks.

“So, about this flashback." Trellan turns to Irzain.

“It was... Well... ... You said we could reach Bremen by nightfall?"

“Yes, I did say that." Trellan nods.

“Do we have to slow down?"

Seeing the look on Irzain's face, Trellan's brow raises.

“That bad, huh?"

Irzain merely nods his head.

“I suppose we could keep her at full speed. I'd already slowed her down, so as not to overwork her. At full speed, we just might be able to anchor by dusk."

“Could we, please?" Irzain softly pleads.

After a pause, Trellan sighs and nods his head. Reaching over Steingar's shoulder, the towering, blue-skinned elf grasps the wooden and brass stalk emerging from the console, near the helm. With a gentle push, he increases their speed, the indicator arrow pointing at the italic letters that spell “Seraph's Sprint". The steam engine whirs a little louder, and the humming and thumping of the turbines grows steadily stronger. They can feel the acceleration; Irzain's back is pushed gently against the wall, while Steingar shifts a digitigrade foot, his clawed fingers gripping the wheel a little tighter. Trellan, who is thoroughly used to how his ship operates, appears unaffected.

“So, what happened in your flashback, anyway? Why the sudden rush?" Steingar can't help but ask.

“I think they wanted me dead. I can remember an assassin trying to kill me while I was aboard another ship." Irzain speaks softly, gazing at the distant horizon.

“What?!" Steingar scoffs.

“But you have the gifts of a healer! Who could possibly want you dead?! Who was so angry that they'd send an assassin after you?!" Trellan chuckles from disbelief.

“... The King."

Both men pause, turning only to glance at one another. Even the aging Trellan, throughout all of his years as a soldier, hadn't ever heard of someone being targeted for assassination by the King himself. Rarely does the King even speak to anyone besides his chief General, the ambassadors from the mainland kingdoms, or the highest-ranking nobles of the Erie Isles.

“Who are you?!" Trellan chokes out.

“That's what I'm hoping to find out." Irzain murmurs.