“Ho there, break it up!” I shouted. Saying ‘break it up’ sounded like there were two sides to a fight, but Gerald was just trying to protect his vital organs. The tarish seemed to think that if he let them get their licks in, they’d give up. Then again, this was his fourth tour aboard a navy vessel compared to my once. Maybe he knew what he was doing.

But I’d be sliced up for chum before I let the man who’d offered me some relief from my guilt be used as a punching bag.

I got some glances, and the harassers idly turned from Gerald to me with the attitude that one amusement was interrupting them from another.

“And who are you?” A nasally fellow asked.

I ignored his question, as squaring up to people and explaining who you were and why they should listen to you was something you only did with authority and the power to back it up. I had the personal power, but the authority would be a bluff. Instead, I aimed to brush right by them.

Of course, the big fellow I passed by didn’t want to be ignored and placed his hand on my chest to shove me back. I decided to use my dirty fighting skills to teach him a lesson and keep moving.

When I was looking at the sky a moment later trying to catch air in my lungs again, I realized that this was a tougher crowd than I’d given them credit for, and they had levels in dirty fighting that trumped my own brawling experience. They clustered around me in a similar way to how they’d been circled around Gerald. They didn’t start kicking yet, but it was an intimidating ring of interrogators.

Bloody stars, well they asked for it, and they were conveniently positioned. Time to practice my newest spell …

Thunderclap not only gave them a minor deafened debuff (which I was thankfully immune to) it pushed away anyone and anything within 5 feet unless they could resist or were well secured. None of these guys were prepared for it, and almost all were sent on their backsides with hands clapping over their ears. The big fellow managed to keep his feet, just staggering back a bit, but I was able to regain my feet and move over to Gerald without any other issues. Power spoke its own language.

“Why is it,” I hissed in Gerald’s ear as I dragged him to his feet. “That I have to keep rescuing you from angry mobs?”

“These fellows were just initiating me into their crew,” Gerald said, loudly for the benefit of those not caught within my deafening spell. Of course, he was trying to give them an out. Make peace with his tormentors so they’d eventually stop harassing him.

It wasn’t that I wanted to stomp on his method, but I’d seen humans look down on their own kind without mercy because they were called a slave. I wasn’t going to hold out hope that humans would give a tarish more leeway.

“You didn’t answer our question,” Nasal Voice said from where he’d gotten up. “Who are you?”

“I’m a war mage for the Isa.” I claimed. Come to think of it, I wasn’t sure whether I was being positioned as an expert seaman or an amateur mage and my claim was mostly bluff. Having seen the need for magic users on the Carpathia, I was probably going with mage again. In either case, these fellows had just seen me cast a spell and weren’t in a position to question me.

“Oh really?” Said a man from the perimeter. “Then why is this the first time I’ve seen you? Lieutenant Lockwood, second mate.”

“Lieutenant,” I greeted neutrally. “Just transferred from the Carpathia, and assigned to the Isa by the colonel not an hour ago. Encountered this altercation on my way to the ship.”

“The men were just giving the tarish a lesson in self-defense, helping him get his unarmed levels up a bit. You may continue to the ship and report to the first mate now.” He said dismissively.

And leave Gerald here to have his ‘lesson’ picked up where it had left off? Shiv that.

I let Gerald stand on his own feet and squared up to the second lieutenant. “Is the command structure on the Isa really so different, or did you try to give me an order?” My voice was low and threatening. The man flushed.

“How dare you speak to me like that!”

“I’ve done a lot of daring things in my life. Speaking to you isn’t one of them.”

“You’re going to start your duties with a report on the Captain’s desk regarding your behavior!”

I took a menacing step forward and dropped my voice. “Lockwood, look me in the eyes. Then ask me whether I care about your complaints to anyone.”

The man’s expression became darker, and his voice adopted its own venom. “You watch yourself, Harter. You’ve just made an enemy of the whole fighting force aboard the Isa! A very dumb move, over a tarish.”

I didn’t see the need to respond to that and let him have the last word, escorting Gerald away. Sure, having people aboard my ship carry a vendetta was a pain, but it hardly compared to my other problems.

“You should have just let them finish with me,” Gerald grunted.

“I had a surgeon say I shouldn’t push the status quo over slaves a while back. I wasn’t any better at listening to him.”

“Yeah? How’d that situation turn out?”

With my flogging and improved treatment of the slaves for a time. Then they all became my cursed crewmen, were forced to raid the Broken Isles, and wound up cursing my very existence before mutinying.

“Ehh, hard to compare.”

He snorted, then coughed. They’d been very rough with him. I stopped long enough to give him a healing potion and had him sip it as we moved. I had spells to do direct healing, so I didn’t go through the health potions as fast as mana potions. Health potions also didn’t restore your body so much as they added HP. Sure, they’d fix your body up some and improve your rate of recovery, but if Gerald had cracked ribs now he could drink a dozen health potions and still have cracked ribs.

There were long floating docks that extended out for ship berthing. I inspected the Isa as we approached and found her unremarkable – a weathered brig that had been repaired and seen its share of storms, but hardly a derelict.

It was only the question of her Captain that made her seem to loom.

At the ramp Gerald stopped me and straightened. “Follow my lead,” he said under his breath. At the bottom of the ramp he bowed to the ship itself. Then he strode up it before stopping at the top and offering a salute to the absent flag. No one was around to watch his ceremonies or my awkward imitations – a fact that didn’t dissuade Gerald. He didn’t step onto the ship and hunt someone out like a sensible person. Instead, he bellowed as loud as he could, “Permission to come aboard!”

And we waited. Waiting …

“You sure they heard you?” I asked.

“It’s why you’re loud the first time,” Gerald said. “Repeating your request causes trouble.”

“This is silly.”

“It’s the navy.”

“No need to parrot me.”

Gerald coughed in a way that seemed to be hiding a laugh, before turning into a groan. I’d best give him an extended session of cleansing waters – the long and slow healing spell should help whatever internal damage he had.

Finally, someone came topside. That they came for us yet had taken so long spoke poorly of them. Not because I was some important visitor they were offending, but because if I’d had hostile intent I could have walked up the ramp and roamed about without any difficulty or challenge at all.

“Nem and bizness?” The man snapped.

“Gerald Varus, cook, reporting for duty!” my friend declared with a salute.

The man turned to me, and I straightened and gave my own salute. “Dom Harter, apprentice war mage, reporting for duty.”

His eyebrows rose. “War mage? Weren’t expectin’ ya. Come on.”

We finally stepped aboard the ship and my land timer stopped its slowed countdown as it recognized I was properly on board a ship again. The man on watch led us not to the Captain’s cabin, but the cabin of the first mate. He knocked loudly, announced us, and we waited for a few more minutes while whoever was inside made themselves presentable.

Really, I thought the navy placed a higher regard on efficiency?

When the first mate opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of an unshaven, scraggly-haired man with pants tucked into the tops of his once-fashionable boots, a shirt mostly tucked into his pants, and suspenders holding the outfit together. He didn’t even look at us, just opened the door and motioned us inside.

We crowded in while the first mate sate on his chair and rubbed his face, the watchman introducing us. “Misser Billings, this ‘ere is our cook, and the man says he’s a war mage.”

The man looked at us for the first time. Me, then Gerald, back to me. He didn’t seem any more surprised to see a tarish in front of him than an unexpected war mage. “Cook will report to the quartermaster. War mage will report to me.”

Mmhmm. We shifted from foot to foot. Mr. Billings looked up at us. “What?” he said with a tone that said ‘why are you here? Didn’t you hear everything you needed to know?’

“Sar,” the watchman said in his heavy accent. “The quartermaster was reassigned.”

Billings waved the matter away. “Yes, yes. Then the cook will report to the second mate in the meantime. Anything else?”

“Where’s the Captain?” I asked. “Am I the only mage? When is this ship supposed to sail?”

“The Captain,” Billings said huffily. “Is seeing to other matters and has delegated the direct operations of this ship to me. Hence you shall report to me. Yes, you are currently the only mage assigned to us. Central command is having difficulty staffing the Isa, frankly I’m amazed you found yourself here. What college do you hail from?”

“I was privately tutored.”

“Eh, that explains it. What was your last question?”

“When does this ship sail?” I asked, my voice getting slightly clipped. This place was a travesty to the nature of good seamanship and we hadn’t even left the dock!

“Estimated time is two weeks. That has now been pushed back three separate occasions, so don’t get your hopes up. Travis, see them out.”

“Yissir,” the watchman – Travis – said. “Alright, come on y’all.”

Gerald followed Travis immediately. I left as well, but lingered first, taking in the sight of the first mate sitting bleakly at his desk, eyes staring off somewhere, and the state of the cabin. It was spartan, but still somehow unkempt. I wasn’t going to judge a man on whether his rack had squared corners at all times, and many officers I’d worked with had their spaces crammed with everything from clothes and sundry items to important papers and treasured knick-knacks.

Somehow Billings’ state was wrong. More importantly, why was someone like him assigned as first mate? Why was Lockwood assigned as a second? If the navy wanted aggressive officers why not make Lockwood the first and keep Billings ashore? If Billings was supposed to temper Lockwood’s aggressiveness, then he was a poor man for the job as he was already burnt out and was delegating everything he could to his second.

Maybe I was basing too much on first impressions. For all I knew, Lockwood was a peaceful man when he didn’t have new reports riling him up in front of his men. Billings could be a hell-raiser when he wasn’t freshly pulled from bed.

But I doubted it.

Shadowing over these musings were the bigger questions: where was the Captain? Did they have a say in the roles of his officers? Did he see how poorly they ran things?

Was Darius my father?

The crew of the Isa was staying on shore with a rotating single watchman on duty. Travis told us all about how getting the men off the boat for shore liberty was necessary for the morale of any crew, and how it spoke well of the officers that they made arrangements for it to be that way. I agreed that men needed time off the ship, having seen the same story play out a hundred times, but privately held my own opinions. I knew that I was the anomaly in this.

I also doubted that getting the men shore liberty was any great insight on the officers’ part, and more a matter of standard procedure. Lockwood was in charge of the men ashore, and had apparently turned his group into what was essentially a gang. Billings stayed aboard the ship, and a single watchman would return to relieve his fellow aboard the Isa at noon each day.

The Captain didn’t return to the ship at night. It seemed that he had a place ashore and was very busy taking care of business, as he didn’t even stop in to check on things.

I couldn’t judge, not with my record, but I expected the former Captain of the Athair to have things well in hand. Stars, I was being disappointed at the way things seemed to be running! You’d think that I’d be happy to see my former/current/potential enemy was not as capable as I’d given him credit for. Instead, I found myself hoping that Captain Darius would come aboard and put things in order, that he had been given no choice in his officers or was indeed too busy taking care of other business and hadn’t realized those under him lacked what was needed to command properly.

Each time I caught myself thinking about what it took to command properly, I heard Burdette’s voice telling me how I’d lost the support of my entire crew – right down to my friends.

For a week, I became Gerald’s shadow. The new quartermaster hadn’t been assigned, so the tarish cook reported directly to the racist second mate. I had little better to do, so tagging along as a bodyguard suited me well enough. Lockwood seemed to regard it as a game, and tried to find ways to distract me away from Gerald like leaving his side meant he would suddenly be plagued by assassins.

Neither of us cared for playing that game. Gerald came up with the plan that I eventually agreed to, resulting in him getting ganged up on by a handful of masked characters. He thought that would make it go away, that they’d have done it and forgotten about the whole affair. It was a wrong assumption, as he was pulled into an alley a second time and given another, more thorough beating.

As I was healing him that night with my cleansing waters spell, he admitted to being discouraged but thought that surely his tormentors were finished now.

He was right. His tormentors didn’t bother him again. Incidentally, a handful of Lockwood’s men went AWOL, to the Lieutenant’s consternation.

The sea keeps many secrets – it would keep theirs. If their corpses were someday found in a nest of water dancers, no one would look too deeply into their circumstances. Maybe my mistakes could be accredited to violence, but some were also due to being too merciful to the wrong people. I was trying not to repeat such mistakes.

For a week I followed Gerald while he made food arrangements on behalf of the non-existent quartermaster. I did my own shopping; restocking my potions, grabbing a few discounted skill books, and picking up some added weaponry – including a new trident that didn’t have the barbs that were always getting caught in my enemies!

At the end of the week we had shocking news: our deployment wasn’t getting postponed again. We would actually get underway as scheduled.

Cue chaos as Lockwood brought his men back and Billings began crying about where his quartermaster was. Supplies and munitions were sourced and carried aboard – thankfully some paper-pusher was in charge of most the allocations and it was mostly a matter of picking our assigned supplies from the right location.

The Captain still hadn’t shown.

I threw my hand into getting things organized, but quickly found it was better for me to sit things out. No amount of skill or experience could make up for a second lieutenant that immediately contradicted your directions, no matter whether they made sense or not. If I said put something down Lockwood said pick it up. It was causing trouble and everyone was better off if I didn’t even help.

Two days until our departure, and we received a unique new crewman. Twenty well-armed soldiers, many of them professional warriors no less, escorted a very tall and well built figure down the dock. The figure had a bag over his head that concealed his features and obstructed his vision, requiring a pair of the guardsmen to escort him by the elbows. At the ramp, a handful of the warriors walked the figure up to the deck, where the group was greeted by Lockwood and Billings.

The man in charge saluted Billings, then gestured for the hood to be taken off. “Delivered safely as ordered. He’s now in your custody, and your responsibility.”

When the hood was removed, several of the crew cursed under their breath. The figure was not a man. He was an orc!

Name

Jorgagu

Age

42

Race

Orc

Profession

Enchanter

Level

20

XP

103

Health

350

Mana

250

Stamina

230

Strength

35

Agility

23

Dexterity

31

Constitution

35

Endurance

23

Intelligence

35

Wisdom

28

Charisma

28

Luck

23

Orcs had different racial builds from other humanoids. They naturally advanced strength and constitution with each level, but suffered penalties to the effects of intelligence and wisdom. This orc – Jorgagu – had allocated his points contrary to his racial strengths. He had invested heavily into intelligence, but due to the penalties he had his mana pool was smaller than mine. I wasn’t sure on the specifics, but I knew that orcs could handle a wider variety between their attributes without suffering from imbalance. The 12-point gap between his lowest and highest stats made me think that was the barrier he’d imposed to avoid imbalance.

“Very good,” Lockwood said, giving orders for some of the men to arm up and take custody of the orc. Jorgagu stood passively while they did, not even flexing his hands against the rune-covered manacles latched around his wrists. The key to those manacles was given from the sergeant to Lockwood, and Billings didn’t say a word.

Jorgagu was led below and the army escort left. I later checked and found where he was chained and the makeshift prison that had sprung up around him. Lockwood had posted a guard that seemed to have orders to deny anyone from interacting with the prisoner and me specifically – Lockwood having assumed I’d be interested in the orc after standing up for a tarish.

I left well enough alone and waited until we were set to sail, my mind more on Darius than Jorgagu, though they were both enigmas.

It wasn’t until the night before we were set to leave that the mysterious man in command of the ship made himself known. I knew him before I analyzed him – before anyone else had seen him. He had broad shoulders and a tall build, things I hadn’t picked up from my mother. His dark blue military coat was tailored to fit his trim frame. There was no stack of medals on his lapel, just a single button pinned to his collar that was the mark of meritorious service recognized by the king.

He did not bow to the ship when he started up the ramp. He did not salute at the top of it. Instead, someone called for attention on the deck and everyone else stood up sharply and snapped salutes to him. He looked about with a critical eye and called out a series of names to attend, among them Lockwood and Billings. They made their way directly to his cabin – no doubt for a full debrief.

He hadn’t glanced at me any longer than the other crewman, nor had he startled like he’d received an unexpected prompt. Yet I knew it, I knew with a certainty that brought my own prompt into being: that man was my long lost father!

You have unlocked the quest Sins of the Father. Despite your personal admonitions on how you never cared who your father was, deep down you recognized it was untrue. Now, the identity of your father will have untold consequences for your new life. Find out who he is!

You have tracked down the man whose blood you share. You have found that you have the sea in common, but are on opposite sides of a major conflict. The question remains: what will you do now?

What will I do now … my own quest threw the question in my face. I’d had some plans, and they’d worked more or less how I’d wanted them to. I’d gotten transport to a major hub and a large amount of XP on the way. I’d been pardoned for my alibi and the navy was none the wiser that Domenic Seaborn, scourge of the Broken Isles, was enlisted aboard one of their own ships.

Then I’d seen Lieutenant Commander Darius’ name and I’d just had to know. Now I knew. What next?

The simple answer – the one Jones would have pushed me towards – was to kill him. Deprive the navy of his expertise, and maybe get some personal satisfaction over gutting the man who’d hired out my mother, then abandoned her with his child to the mercy of a noble family that didn’t know the meaning of the word!

It said something about me that even without Jones pushing me anymore, that thought was highly tempting.

Though as I faced it, I found that I didn’t necessarily want him punished. I’d look down on him for his choices, sure, but what I really wanted was to look him in the eye and ask him why?

Why would he leave a child behind? Didn’t he ever even wonder what it would be like to take a son sailing or fishing? Wouldn’t he have felt pride over a boy that followed in his footsteps? Couldn’t he have spared even a little time to introduce himself and let his family know they weren’t forgotten?

Why wasn’t I wanted?

“Hey! Harter! Tha Cap’n wants a word with ya.” Travis interrupted the whirlpool of my thoughts. I spared a moment to check that I didn’t have a debuff like ‘anguish’ or ‘crippling self-awareness’.

“The Captain wants to speak with me?” I said, testing my voice. It came out harder than I expected, I’d been worried I’d be rasping.

“Yeah. Yer our mage! ‘Course he wants to chat with ya!”

I nodded and left what I was doing and headed to the Captain’s cabin. I knocked and was immediately bidden to enter.

Captain Darius was sitting at his desk, reading. He glanced up, analyzed me, then resumed his reading.

“Your imbalanced charisma is trouble.”

“Beg pardon, sir?”

He slapped the paper in his hand, and I was shocked to realize it was my letter of recommendation from Captain Graves.

“It caused trouble on your last ship. Judging by the fact that you’re here, it caused you trouble with the colonel, too. Then there’s the matter of my second mate handing me a stack of complaints against you when I step on board.” He said wryly.

This … I was expecting … I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t to be talked to like I was a normal crewman.

“Mr. Lockwood and I have had our disagreements.”

Darius – my father – snorted. “Disagreements … Captain Graves is a good man. He’s prone to overestimating his own capabilities, in my opinion, but he’s honest enough. When he says that you’re among the most capable mixed-skills fighters he’s worked with, that means something.”

“I have turned into something of a spellsword, sir. Against my better judgement.”

“Interesting,” Darius said. “The mage colleges on Antarus don’t look down on spellswords the same way other colleges do, since we’ve incorporated their use into our naval warfare. Mr. Billings failed to mention that you were tutored outside of the homeland.”

I felt a chill. My father was casually testing my backstory, and the way I hadn’t even realized he was doing it scared me.

“I was tutored by a pirate, sir.”

“A pirate?” Darius exclaimed.

I chose to deliberately misinterpret his incredulity – besides, Renshaw had been a pirate of sorts. “Well sir, you already know I fought for Nilfheim. Surely learning from a foreign pirate isn’t such a great crime?”

Darius regarded me with surprise, then amusement. “I suppose not. I’ll enjoy hearing about your history, Mr. Harter. I think I’ll be able to personally work with you despite your imbalance. I trust you won’t take it the wrong way if I say you look like a ghast?”

I got my features from you, father. My curse now seems to be my disguise.

Darius went on. “You will report directly to me, though you will be filling the position of second ships’ mage. I know you have developed seamanship skills, but I’ll let my first mate decide whether he needs you in that field.”

Ooookay? “Second ships’ mage, sir?”

“Of course,” Darius said. “While I might be Captain, I am also an accomplished mage and assume the role of primary mage myself.”

I had been unable to analyze him while he had his stats hidden, but he lowered them with that statement and I analyzed my father for the first time.

Name

Cyrell Darius

Age

41

Race

Human

Profession

Naval Captain

Level

31

XP

36,800

Health

310

Mana

360

Stamina

280

Strength

27

Agility

27

Dexterity

29

Constitution

31

Endurance

28

Intelligence

36

Wisdom

35

Charisma

33

Luck

34

Magic

Mental (deeper magic)

Air magic

Looking at my father’s abilities, I felt something like a pre-teen did watching their father work. He outstripped me. In every respect, from his attribute levels to his 12 levels in leadership and his 7 levels in tactician, he was a naval captain to be envied. I had more levels in seamanship than him, but his 13 levels were highly respectable for an officer – particularly one with such varied interests. His stats pointed to not only leveling, but also having stewarded his early attribute points until he’d advanced through the early progression by his own hard work – just like I had.

On top of all that, he also had mental magic in addition to his air proficiency. The mana benefits from the deeper magic went far for mages, besides speaking for his mental discipline.

For all that … I wondered why he was here. A man like this surely belonged in command of an important ship, some strategic asset to the war. A man this capable didn’t belong in command of the Isa.

A man this disciplined should never have abandoned his son.

I envied him. It didn’t matter that I could have bridged the gap in levels and attributes without Jones’ mandate against leveling. My father was the picture of the man I’d once dreamed of being. Now I was the villain instead – right down to looking the part.

“A look like that on your face, a person might think you meant them harm.”

I mentally shook myself. “Apologies, sir. You’re … more than I expected.”

“Yet less than I was. I trust you won’t have any complaints not being first mage?” I shook my head. “Good. You’ll find that I’m accomplished in air magic, my specialization is in communication - though you may find the principles of sound overlap with a number of other spells. Mr. Lockwood tells me you already demonstrated thunderclap?” I judiciously maintained my silence. “Well, while you are my second, my position as Captain of this vessel puts me in a unique position, and I expect you to voice any input regarding our magical capabilities at any of our officer’s meetings. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes sir,” I said. “You have other things to do besides manage minutiae, and at meetings you can’t take an unbiased position as a Captain and still advocate the mages’ perspective.”

“It makes it easier when it’s unnecessary, to be sure. Very good, I’m glad to see you are astute and am willing to have you take on greater responsibility. Any more questions?”

Take on more responsibility? From what I gathered, he wanted me to be the first mage in all but name. Not that I minded, he really did have better things to be doing, but when I worked with Frederick our main day-to-day job had been taking charge of the flood barrier and act as a battery for it. Besides that, Frederick had acted as an advisor to Captain Graves, but Darius had already pointed out that he was the expert when it came to both magic and leadership. I was but a dabbler in those. What advice could I give? And so, what extra duties did he want me to take on?

I didn’t voice these questions. “Ah, some rather routine questions about the nature of our patrol and such. I’m sure there’s a better time for those.”

“Indeed, all will have those questions answered shortly. You’re dismissed.” He made a stack with the papers dealing with me and set them aside. “Please let Travis know that I desire to speak with our ‘bosun next.”

I left his cabin, my mind whirling. Thankfully Travis was right there and I mechanically passed Darius’ instructions. I went to the galley. Where Gerald prepared meals had become my latest form of sanctuary. The tarish wasn’t there, but the absence of other bodies suited me well.

I’d finally met my father. I’d had a real conversation with him. He was a real, honest-to-goodness person. He wasn’t a blatant sleazebag, and if he was a nobleman and politician at least he was down to earth about it.

I wanted to respect him.

I wanted to shake him!

How did I reconcile the picture of this man with the absent father I knew him to be? If not for the quest update in response to my earlier certainty, I’d be seriously thinking the resemblance was coincidence!

Men shouted and cursed throughout the ship, thumping and stomping echoing through the stout wood as last-minute preparations to sail were made. At least I’d be getting a first-hand look at how my father acted as a Captain over the next weeks.