Standing at the helm of a ship again with blustery gales whipping my hair and filling our sails had me in high spirits. Travis and handful of my constructs assisted me in sailing, while Gnaraugh – or Gnar as he’d allowed me to call him for winning our fight – worked to organize the orcs we’d brought into a fighting force under his command.

He was green at it, I could tell that even if the methods for teambuilding differed between our races. I didn’t interfere, though. That would be a disservice to him, and leadership advice coming from me would be ironic. I had learned a great deal since my dark days aboard the Death’s Consort, however, and our current course spoke of my dedication to choose a new heading.

Nilfheim.

The administrator had told me that if I wanted to find answers for releasing my crew from my curse, it would be among the Madu at Nilfheim. At the time, I’d refused to consider it. I blamed the Madu for the disadvantages of my situation, and considered them villains.

With a great deal of introspection and some prying from my friends I was willing to admit that was largely prejudice. I hadn’t been spared from human propaganda growing up, and while I considered myself friendly to different races I’d pushed blame onto them rather than accept the consequences of my curse were from my own actions. Recognizing that wasn’t easy, and letting go of that bias was tougher still. It was so easy to consider the Madu as an enemy. Even when I’d been horrified at the deaths I’d caused among humans, I’d rampaged across the Madu’s ship Justice with no qualms.

Hopefully dropping in on them this time would lead to some agreements rather than bloodshed.

All those thoughts were secondary, however. I had the wind and the waves, with storm clouds on the horizon. This was where I was meant to be.

Roc's Eye (Cursed)

Ship Class

Cutter

Captain

Domenic Seaborn

Ship Durability

16,070/20,500

Ship level

6

Cursed Status:

Perceptive Eye

It was normally considered bad luck to name a ship after the Roc. The only thing considered worse luck than the giant birds was naming your ship after a dragon! My ship had something that other ships did not though, that made me willing to taunt the massive aerial predators: I wasn’t consigned to the surface as an open target, and could submerge beyond their reach at will.

I still wasn’t naming anything after a dragon. No terrain stopped them when they chose.

Perceptive Eye: +30% to vision; bonus to analyze skill.

We’d already run some tests on the ship status effect and it was a handy thing, allowing the lookouts to see further than they normally could. One of the older orcs had also admitted to things being less blurry than usual, though those of us with better eyesight only noticed that things looked a bit crisper and clearer.

Multiple ships detected under your control, fleet interface unlocked.

Fleet interface had not only opened up a menu I’d never heard of before, it allowed me to see details of the Death’s Consort that I hadn’t known.

Death's Consort (Cursed)

Ship Class

Carrack

Captain

Burdette/Rhistel

Ship Durability

17,835/34,000

Ship level

2

Cursed Status:

Voice of the Crew

From Nothing

Blood Payment

Voice of the Crew status set: Mutineers.

The crew has made the choice to usurp their Captain. Now, they must deal with the contention within their own ranks or be left leaderless.

-80% impact to all morale changes; -75% crew efficiency.

My other ship was not getting what they’d hoped for.

For one thing, the ship had been beat up when I’d left her but she’d had better than half of her durability. The curse helped negate ongoing damage that would normally be caused because of things like flooding and torsion, so they’d sustained damage along the way.

Then there was the dual Captaincy note. Ships could go without a set Captain, but typically someone was recognized as an authority before long and their name would appear with the ship, whether they’d been the original Captain or not. The only time I’d seen multiple people in the Captain position was when military ships were under joint command, and I could not imagine Burdette sharing power with anyone, much less his former elven slave.

Which brought me to the Voce of the Crew status effect. Rhistel and Burdette were obviously not sharing the Captaincy, they were contending for it. However, it had been weeks. How had there still not been a victor?

I could not do anything about that now. They had gradually moved away from the Broken Isles, but they were still far beyond my influence. The only reason I had these insights was because of my new fleet interface, otherwise I’d have to be back at the ship.

The interface also allowed me to see all the XP I’d invested in the carrack and decide whether to reallocate it to the Roc’s eye or not. I didn’t hesitate to siphon off what little I had in improving the sailing speed and maneuverability of the carrack, as the ship was already running at a heavy efficiency penalty.

And they were mutineers, so … no bonuses.

After some deliberation, I did leave the stealth field I’d purchased with the Death’s Consort. They had no means of running, and limited means of protecting themselves. They couldn’t even submerge the ship, as that was something I did with my connection. I didn’t want some navy ship finding them and executing justice on my behalf – they were my crew, and I would render judgement.

I just had a couple stops to make on my way back to them.

First stop was Nilfheim, to hopefully learn the secret of releasing my crew once I’d cursed them.

Second stop was rescuing Hali. The communication orb still had her beacon on Antarus, though it had started moving from the Capitol at the center of the island to the coasts, so hopefully there would be something I could do for her soon.

Third stop was … well, I’d have to find it first. If I couldn’t find it, I might have to see to my old crew and return to stop #3 later.

Jorgagu came up from below. The orc had left the shore with great reluctance, not at all eager to return to the sea. However, he’d come willingly. The fact was he couldn’t have stayed behind and survived once I left with the ship, but that threat hadn’t come up. He’d come willingly – with some help from Krohlo.

Between the ship, warriors and new spell, the old necromancer had given me the best deal I’d ever made.

Congratulations! You have learned the spell Mana Absorption!

Extend a thread of mana into your surroundings to collect ambient mana. Minimum spell cost:10 mana. Efficiency dependent on mana concentration.

With the necromancer’s insight and tutelage, I had been able to understand the last thing I’d been missing as part of the spell matrix: the adhesion of the ambient mana to my thread. Once I’d picked that up, I’d immediately unlocked the spell, then advanced it by increasing the number of threads I could extend. That had surprised Krohlo, but I was still nowhere near the capabilities of my deeper magic. That ability used mana threads smaller than a measurable unit and deployed them by the dozens just for smaller abilities.

Naturally, once I’d learned the spell Jorgagu had started asking me about it. I had agreed to try and teach him, but wanted to trade knowledge for knowledge. If Jorgagu was going to be an enchanter for me, then I needed to know the extent of his capabilities. I needed to know how enchanting worked.

Summoning another crew construct to take over the helm for me, Jorgagu and I moved to the fantail and sat across from each other. Marcus Renshaw had tried to teach me the ‘proper’ way humanoids sat to meditate, but I really preferred relaxing with my back to the gunwale. Jorgagu didn’t sit and cross his legs either, but the orcish version seemed to be kneeling while sitting back on his heels.

He gave a heavy sigh. “On the advice of my village elders as a young orc, I have never divulged my professional secrets. I do this now in an expression of trust, Seaborn.”

“I understand the gravity; my own professional options have only been shared with a few.”

The orc nodded. “I will start by explaining how enchanting normally works, and then explain how I have adapted it.

“Enchanting is at its most basic an application of three things: mana, an item, and the magical enchantment itself. The enchantment can be acquired and applied in various ways. Runesmiths are cousins of enchanters, as they use the ancient rune script as the container for the enchantment – or spell. What most general enchanters do is use XP to expand their library – a professional ability that allows the purchase of different enchantments.

“With an enchantment and a personal mana pool, most enchanters have one more catch: to apply the enchantment to the item they need either a conduit or a highly receptive magical item. Magical items are rare and hard to acquire. Appropriate conduits are of limited use, so acquiring them also creates a bottleneck.”

“How difficult are these conduits to acquire?” I hadn’t seen Jorgagu need to go through crates of supplies, but would I need to get him some?

He waved the question away. “Depends on material. Powdered crystal is good for everything, but elemental salts can improve the effect if they’re matched to an elemental enchantment. Things with a strong magical alignment can be used the same way – and much cheaper – if you take a penalty to the end result. Think of using powdered bone for an enchantment tied to earth or death.”

I nodded, following along. I was sure he was simplifying it for me, but we could go into greater detail once I knew the basics.

“The enchanter takes their enchantment and fuses it into the item. It is powered by their mana, but changes the nature of the item itself – rather than runesmiths that store mana in their item to fuel a spell. Understand? Good. Now I tell you why I say ‘most enchanters’.” He took another fortifying breath and rumbled.

“I have pursued more than one quest related to my profession. They required daring and, I’ll admit, some youthful foolishness to even attempt. However, with risk comes reward. I have learned how to completely circumnavigate the need for a conduit! Always it was my greatest limitation, and when I had the chance to move past it I seized it. It comes at a cost: not using an attuned conduit means I cannot craft specialty items of great power, but I accepted that and leaned into my strengths. I invested XP into my profession and specialized in weapons and single-use items. Most weapons are enchanted for longevity, and their overall performance is lessened. I focused on making something as powerful as I could. I would then simply enchant more.”

“That’s amazing, but haven’t you made other things?”

“Yes, I have not cut off all other routes of enchantment yet – only specialized.”

“So if I asked you to enchant weapons for the warriors?”

“My talents would not produce a quality weapon you would expect from an enchanted item. I could, however, enchant a weapon to cause significant damage in a single strike. The problem with those weapons are that their durability is worthless. They are not weapons for repeated use.”

Jorgagu was trying to caution me on the drawbacks of his specialization, but I wasn’t seeing that. Naval battles could be protracted affairs if it was up to mundane artillery to hammer down durability points, but in a boarding melee? Those weren’t extended engagements. A weapon that could do the damage of a critical hit with a single blow was valuable – even if it only was good for that one hit.

Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, used as I was to carrying a small armory with me. Still, if each warrior carried a half dozen throwing knives enchanted by Jorgagu for significant damage? Stars; my team full of young, bloodthirsty orcish warriors was about to get even more terrifying.

“An what if,” I postulated. “You instead focused on enchanting something like artillery bolts?”

“Those fit very well with my specialization. What’s more, if I’m enchanting items that are all the same I can use a mass production skill. It synergizes with my ability to forego conduits and I can churn out powerful bolts quickly – that was the whole reason the humans used me on that ship, after all.”

I knew Jorgagu was talented, but as I explored the depth of his capabilities I felt like he was singularly capable of raising our ship’s threat level – it hadn’t passed my notice that the Roc’s Eye was rated more powerful now than the Death’s Consort had ever been.

I couldn’t wait for Jorgagu and Sadeo to start plotting together. The devastation those two could organize …

That was presumptive of Sadeo and I patching things up. I was hopeful. He might not have stood behind me in the end, but I’d started to be a monster and could forgive him that. As long as he wasn’t throwing his support behind Burdette for the Captaincy.

I had plans for my nine-fingered former first mate. Among them, the problem that he had nine fingers too many.

“Now,” I said, not eager to broach a painful topic but accepting it was necessary. “Tell me about what makes a cursed enchantment.”

“I don’t know!” Jorgagu spat. “My last enchantment was the first time I’d ever created such a thing.”

“Okay,” I said, motioning for him to calm himself. “I intend to find a way to release crew from my curse, but until I do we need to discover the extend of your capabilities and how the curse affects them.”

“I told you that …”

“Are you on board with me, or aren’t you?” I interrupted. “I know how you see the items you create, but I can’t afford to let talent like yours sit idle!”

He rocked back on his heels and stood to leave. I had a moment that seemed to extend to eternity, a crystal clear moment of decision: how was I going to handle my crewman behaving like this? The Captain I was before would have let him walk away. I could not be that man. I refused to sail that path again, and I refused to allow my crew to do so – even if they chaffed as I steered them elsewhere.

Freedom was everything to me, but as I was told before, freedom was not an absence of responsibility. I had a responsibility – a duty – to my crew just as I had a debt to those I’d wronged. So, there was something I needed to do even if it was disagreeable.

Before Jorgagu had taken his second step, I suspended his free will.

I’d done it to him before when he panicked after jumping the Isa and remarked at the time how it was more difficult than my other crewmembers. Jorgagu had a Wisdom score of 28 and practice through his profession of exerting his willpower; which in practical terms meant that stopping him cold felt like stopping a charging shark and keeping him restrained felt just as difficult.

I stood and ponderously moved in front of his path. “You don’t walk away from me aboard my ship: not when it affects the safety of the crew! This isn’t a matter that can be picked up at a later date. You should be exploring the limitations of your abilities like I’m sure you did when you first got your profession. You should be testing whether every item is cursed, if it’s one in ten or if you can even control it. You should be learning these things, but you’re scared. Now I can’t force you to create through your profession, but I can shame you into it. I don’t want to, so the question is are you going to make me? Or are you going to step up?”

I stared into his angry eyes for several long seconds before I let up and returned his freedom, his ability to move and speak. He didn’t say anything, I was half expecting a hook to my jaw, which would cause problems but not so much with an orcish crew that had already seen me brawling with Gnar. No, Jorgagu stood there, the image of wounded dignity. His eyes were angry but he maintained control of himself.

“By your leave?” he grated out. I nodded, and he stalked off below decks.

I spent a quarter hour staring over the fantail wondering if I’d made the right call when he returned.

“I … apologize.” He said, speaking the words like he found them incredibly bitter on his tongue. “No orc likes to hear such things, even if there is truth to them. I have trouble seeing you as a leader, a chieftain, and such an insult from a peer would be grounds for fighting.”

I’d underestimated the warrior blood in him, but the fact he was able to master it in a few minutes spoke well of his discipline. “Jorgagu, I would prefer to call you a friend. However, we need to be clear on my authority and you need to be able to take orders. Had we been discussing something of your personal life, I would give advice instead of commands and would not have taken your will for walking away. There will be boundaries. There will be absolutes. One absolute is that I am the master of my ship – of every ship that I claim. And when I put on the Captain’s hat and tell you to get on with it, you listen. Do we understand each other?”

“My will,” he said. “I want your oath you will not freeze me like that again.”

“I won’t give it. Remember when the Isa burned? I had to fight you to keep you from killing yourself, and I will not have my hands tied by an oath that prohibits me from benefitting you.”

“It …” he held his clenched hands in front of him, searching for words. “It is maddening! Like an enemy with a taunt that you cannot resist. Had you released me as second earlier, I’m certain I would have tried to rend your limbs. I do not want to experience that, and I do not want to rashly harm you for it.”

There was something extremely sobering about a huge orc saying they’d nearly torn you limb from limb. I had to remember that my orcish crew was similar to humans, but not the same.

“Jorgagu, I promise that I will use judgement and discretion in exercising my authority. What comes of that, we will address.”

He searched my eyes and slowly nodded. “Very well. You had some items you wanted me to enchant?”

I gave him several daggers, and watched as he sat and focused on the first one. He briefly explained what another enchanter would be doing, then skipped to doing his own thing. Soon we were both examining his latest creation.

Cursed Dagger of Bloodletting: Inflicts a heavy bleed status on whoever it cuts. Wielder sustains 2x the initial damage.

Not the kind of thing you wanted to play with. I was sure there were fighters – probably adventurers – out there who would use it, tanking a heavier HP loss on their own bodies in exchange for an ongoing bleed on their enemies. I wasn’t one of those people. I saw HP as something to be stewarded as best as possible and renewed when the opportunity presented itself. You know, like all rational, sane people did.

I whisked the blade into my inventory just to get the failure out of Jorgagu’s sight. “Let’s try again.”

Cursed Dagger: adds 2 points of cursed damage to every strike.

That was a success! Well, not a success in Jorgagu’s eyes since it was still cursed but still! The item naturally had a 6-10 point damage rating before enemy armor, critical hits and such. Two points on top of that was a straight bonus even if it didn’t seem like much, and cursed damage was supposed to be extremely uncomfortable.

I held the dagger up in front of him. “My friend, even if all your items maintain a curse, you can still benefit your crew.”

He grumbled under his breath but said we’d keep trying.

Three daggers later I was about to tell Jorgagu he’d have to enchant other items when the orc half gasped, half sobbed with the result.

Volatile Dagger: this dagger has been enchanted to cause extreme damage, though the integrity of the blade has suffered greatly as a result.

“It’s still possible!” he said. I congratulated him and clapped him on the shoulder.

We spent a few minutes discussing weapon enchantments for the crew – we didn’t have enough simple weapons for him to experiment too many enchantments – and then I spent an hour coaching him on the mana absorption spell.

When I cast the spell for 10 mana the thread – more like a thick rope than a thread – extended for about 20 feet. Ambient mana latched onto the thread for as long as I could maintain it, which was about 5 seconds. If I tried to go longer than 5 seconds, I lost my thread and the mana I’d invested to create it. If I let the spell complete, the thread spooled back into me carrying the extra mana I’d picked up in addition to what I’d sent out, netting me something like a 200% return. I sent out 10 mana and got 30 back. It was a nice little bonus for 5 seconds of casting, and no mage would turn up their nose at that.

Of course, when I added more threads is when things really got interesting. It took more focus, but sending 3 threads out for 30 mana got me 90 back – which was over 1/3 of my total mana pool.

Now we were sailing the high seas!

An interesting feature of my spell was that pulling the ambient mana from the area had side effects. Most applicable for my spell was that I couldn’t repeatedly absorb from the same area – there wasn’t any more after I’d taken it. Krohlo had cautioned me about creating large ‘dead zones’ but after seeing how quickly ambient mana flowed back into the hidden harbor where I’d claimed my ship, he admitted it wouldn’t be as damaging a risk for me to do at sea.

Jorgagu wasn’t able to pick up on it, not surprising since he’d never experienced it with a professional ability like Krohlo and I, but he kept trying.

Later, I submerged the ship and had all my new hands swim about under my instruction until they had the swimming skill. I considered a base standard for my crew to be having the skill at level 5, which should be possible for them in a few weeks based on Jorgagu’s leveling speed.

Gnar also sat down with me to discuss expectations, strategy, and our chain of command. He was a talented fighter and had started leveling the tactician skill as well. However, he hadn’t adjusted his mindset for naval warfare. I was happy that I was able to actually help and coach him in that area, but what truly got him excited about the topic was when he found out I had old skill books on the topic. His enthusiasm was dampened when he learned they were in human script, but rather than give up he decided that learning human characters was worth the opportunity! He actually asked me for help learning to read!

That opened up the whole matter of the orcs only speaking orcish. I could converse with them well enough, but the human tongue was the standard on the seas and it would be better if they could all be passable in it.

Domenic Seaborn; terror of the seas, uncaught saboteur, chaotic and bloody Captain … and cultural revolutionary, giving language lessons. Bloody fishguts!

I’ll admit, I actually liked the teaching. Getting into grammar debates with an axe-wielding orc who could have broken me over his knee was just a bit surreal.

Gnar surprised me when he asked to run a mock boarding. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised as it made such perfect sense, but … I’d never seen anyone do that before! They just weren’t conducted in the human navy or on the civilian ships I’d spent more of my years on.

Gnar took half of his fighters and I raised the ship to the surface. He tried splitting his forces to attack from port and starboard and was easily rebuffed. Gnar took that as an insult to his pride and later declaimed to me how a pincer attack was supposed to work. I pointed out that he needed to reassess whether he considered a ship to be a fortified target or a miniature battlefield: establishing a foothold on an enemy ship was often the most difficult part.

He considered, and later tried again, mixing up the numbers involved and where they attacked from. As much as he wanted to read the skill books, he was determined to discover through experimentation as well. Once he determined – and proved to me through a demonstration – how boarding the aft of the ship rather than the sides was a better strategy, I dropped all thoughts I’d had on teaching him the ‘right’ way.

I was also bloody glad the orcs weren’t typically inclined to the sea life – they would have conquered the world in place of humans if they had.

During one of our talks, Gnar explained to me what exactly the War Leader title enabled him to do. He had only just earned it, placing him at a ‘squad leader’ or the first rung of the rankings that ranged up to a ‘horde leader’. As a squad leader, the benefits were still nice: he could have 10 people in his squad and each member could view the health, mana, and stamina of the others. There were also various buffs and effects that could be shared across the squad, and if Gnar committed feats that earned a set reward, he could apply those to his forces in the future.

In the face of this coordination, something like a rage ability became truly terrifying, as 10 warriors could suddenly rage in concert and overwhelm opposition. Upgrading Gnar to the status of ‘horde leader’ would be futile since we couldn’t fit a horde aboard a ship, but getting him to where he could place all the ship’s fighters under his command would be worthwhile. It made me wonder why Antarus never took War Leaders from the army to serve in the navy – surely they knew the benefits?

Something that Gnar and I discovered through experimentation was a limitation to who he could accept into his squad. All of the orc warriors but 2 older ones could fall in, but I could not. I was his Captain, his superior officer, and his title wasn’t strong enough to incorporate me or the 2 most veteran orcs in the mix. It was a pity, because I really would have liked to be able to operate that way.

We sailed the seas with no major incidents. Three times I ignored Gnar’s protests and avoided human ships, my reasoning being that the fleet was connected well enough these days to begin tracking my movements again if I exposed myself. After we’d reached our destination in Nilfheim and I had the answers to such important questions about our curse I would consent to having my new crew bloody themselves, but I wouldn’t jinx myself with another errand before then.

Twice we had to submerge to avoid angry Roc’s, proving that there was more than superstition behind the care placed on naming ships. One of the birds had a wingspan greater than the length of our cutter!

The training took my mind off of what was happening, but before I knew it we approached our destination. We started seeing ships crewed by Madu instead of humans, their fleet concentrated near their shores rather than dominating the ocean. We breached the territorial waters of Nilfheim.

Port Yefeh was the most prominent port city of Nilfheim. The most prominent surviving city, that was. Oorkom had pushed the nation hard in the south and captured chunks of territory, while Davy Jones had unleashed some power that resulted in a tsunami that reduced a thriving port city into a broken level 3 hamlet.

Yefeh had survived with robust defensive structures, including breakwaters for the port and a wall that separated the docks from the town. I’d never visited before, but the topography really was what I’d heard: where the mountains met the sea. Strong firs clung to brown rock that had been excavated or tunneled into to provide the Madu with their city space. It reminded you that the Madu’s northern neighbors were the dwarves, who had their docks attached directly to their famous mountain halls. The dwarves were determined to remain neutral in this whole affair, however, and so far the humans hadn’t been stupid enough to change their minds.

After careful consideration I asked Gerald to head to the port gates with a message. My choice was based on my trust in him, my knowledge that he wouldn’t let his pride get in the way of communication, and because as a tarish, he should receive a different welcome than either Travis or the orcs would get.

My faith in him was great, which made me shocked when he did the monumentally stupid thing I’d warned him against doing by stepping through the lantern-lit gate and away from my sight, away from the protection of the armed boarding team. Yes, my boarding team was armed and ready. Discussions hadn’t happened yet and alliances were still shaky.

Bobbing in the middle of the open water wasn’t conducive to pacing, which left me with nothing to do but fret and grow anxious over every vague movement I could detect of Gerald because of his position with my crew. I wanted to take the orcs and ‘rescue’ him but I knew that was my bias seeing the Madu as enemies again. The rational decision was to let Gerald do his thing and talk things out with the matriarchs.

Thing is, biases are no more rational than emotions. That’s why I was talking with Gnar about what we could do when I noticed Gerald’s direction was moving towards the gate again. A few minutes later he slipped out alone and dropped into the water to return to us. We all dropped down several feet so our voices would be masked underwater rather than carry.

“What happened?” I demanded curtly.

Gerald seemed surprised at my tone and rubbed his jaw. “I talked with their guards, they offered to let me speak with someone more in charge, and I quickly found myself chatting with one of their top matriarchs. They were hospitable, though very tense I’ll admit. They certainly want to speak with you, and promise your safety if you agree to a nonaggression pact.”

I had to switch gears as Gerald had brought back good news rather than the fight I’d been prepping myself for. “Well … well that’s good I guess. You still had us worried.”

Gerald glanced at Gnar, and while the two didn’t share a language yet I’d swear they communicated something. “Right, sorry.”

“So we’re meeting on the docks?”

“Yes, they agreed to the dock you pointed out. They only asked for a half hour from when I left, so they’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

I translated to Gnar, and he understood my unspoken question. “A half hour is enough for them to prepare anything, but that pier is still the best spot for staying away from the artillery on the wall.”

“And you have my shield,” Jorgagu added. He’d recharged one of the items he used back on the Isa to provide a defensive shield, but apparently such items were beyond his means to produce any more of. The shield should suffice to stop a surprise attack and let me escape to the water where Gnar and his squad would be waiting.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

Time to talk with the people who’d given the order to sink the Wind Runner.

There were two Madu who walked down the long pier towards Gerald and I. The female was taller than most Madu and dressed in a fine, white, sheet-like garment belted at the waist and light blue gloves covering her skin up her arms. The male was dressed in rough, homespun cloth with baggy sleeves that screamed at me as places to hide weapons, but I was obviously armed myself and wouldn’t take offense.

I was wearing my full Captain’s ensemble this evening. I’d put it on for the stat bonuses it offered, but afterwards I’d realized it was a good statecraft move.

Me? Doing serious statecraft? The world was doomed.

The lady approached and inclined her head, which I also did in turn for courtesy. “Domenic Seaborn, be welcome to Port Yefeh and may our meeting bring both our people good tidings.” She greeted, her echoing voice more refined than any Madu I’d heard before. “I am matriarch Tuleen.”

“Greeting matriarch. I come to you for two reasons: the first is to discuss tensions and bloodshed. The second is to gain any insight from you that I can about curses. I am … open to negotiating payment.” Smooth, Domenic. That didn’t come out at all like a pirate Captain trying to buy legitimacy.

If the matriarch thought so she was diplomatic enough not to show it. “After the Captain of the Justice reported on your interaction, we did an extensive inquiry. After a prolonged interrogation of Yuthe Seel, the one you implicated as the root of our adversity, we believe we uncovered where this began: with the contracting of a mercenary named Lawless Jack, is that correct?”

My throat tightened just a little. “It is.”

“Please, air your grievance with us. We shall hear you and seek restitution.”

My anger flared but I tamped it down. Restitution? Redmund was dead, as was Virgam and Blake, there could be no restitution for that. Except there must be. I didn’t even hold much grudge against Lawless Jack, and he was the Captain who’d attacked. Why did I hold onto this anger against the ones who’d commissioned him?

I relayed how I’d been brought on board the Wind Runner, how I’d taken the mentorship of its amateur crew. I relayed how the Raven had attacked, and how I’d stayed behind to give a few crewmates a chance. How I’d sabotaged Jack’s operation so thoroughly the others had not only escaped, but the prize aboard the Wind Runner had slipped through Jack’s fingers.

How Jack had been angry, but ultimately intrigued by me. Until the meeting with Yuthe Seel. That meeting, where the cold Madu had casually disregarded and insulted the proud chortin Captain after commissioning him, driving him to cut his losses and drop me chained into the depths of the sea …

Where I’d met Davy Jones and faced a choice of servitude or death.

I could recognize the devil’s bargain had been mine, but the bitterness over the Madu’s involvement in putting me there was apparent. Matriarch Tuleen recognized it, but wasn’t defensive in the slightest.

“When we engage in such operations,” she replied. “We accept that we create such bad blood as you have. Our position was simple in its premise: deprive our enemies from a beneficial union. In effect, we sowed the seeds of causality that crippled us. We not only created your enmity, we galvanized a coalition against us – and the machinations of Makam in the south have promised generations of war if not ruin for Nilfheim.”

I almost asked if that was an apology, but held my tongue. So I was really surprised when both the matriarch and her servant performed a deep bow. “I speak for the nation of Nilfheim when I apologize to you for our role in the suffering you have experienced and caused.”

I had to close my open mouth with a snap before I could even begin looking for words. “I … uh, I accept your apology. And … I … I’d say that I’m sorry too.”

They smoothly rose from their bow. “With forgiveness we can begin to mend the road of suffering we have done to each other, though we fear it is far too late to do anything about the war we are embroiled in. Always talk between humans and Madu have gone … poorly.”

“I understand, but I’m not exactly on great terms with the rest of humanity myself right now.”

“Precisely. We understand you are limited in what you can do, but we would still seek to ally ourselves with you.”

“Why?” I asked bluntly. “I just came from Bandarn and I get why they wanted to ally with me, but why you?”

“Because our greatest minds say that if we lose control of the seas and coast, it will only be a matter of time before our people are doomed. Oorkom is relentless in the south, and we cannot move north or east without invading peaceful neighbors we cannot afford to offend. Many of our people have chosen exodus; leaving as refugees for lands unknown where they might live in peace. However, our entire nation can’t manage that.”

Matriarch Tuleen was very good at painting the Madu as the innocent victims of all this, which I doubted, but they were willing to work with me where my own people – my own family – had jumped in with spells and blades bared.

“I am willing to consider an alliance. However I see that as my greatest bargaining chip, and I must learn about the nature of curses and how they can be lifted. I’ve been told your people are the only ones I might find who would be willing to help me.”

“Indeed,” Tuleen said with a smile, not at all offended that I was bargaining with our alliance. “We have been aware of your quest since we got a copy of the book Voice of the Crew.”

That book. I really needed to finally read what my old crew had said about me, especially since the rest of the world already knew!

Tuleen seemed to read my expression, as her smile broadened, the delicate scales of her face shifting wider. “We put together a response to address your problem if circumstances led to us earning your favor with our assistance. We believe that we can indeed help you, but it requires that you have a capacity for life magic and cast the counter yourself.”

“I do have an affinity for life magic,” I said, recalling my lessons with Marcus Renshaw. “But it is untrained. I don’t know of any spells in that school.”

“Then our arrangement will work perfectly. This is Drese Huut, a master life magician,” Tuleen said, indicating the drab-colored man she’d brought with her. “He possesses the knowledge to unlock your potential and teach you what you need to know. He also is a powerful healer, and can provide his services to your whole crew. We wish for him to accompany you, on the condition of our treaty.”

I regarded the impassive man who was only now revealed to be a master mage. I got a similar impression here that I had with the orcs: I was being ‘negotiated’ into deals that were for my benefit. However, this time I felt like there would be more stipulations to our agreement than Krohlo had pushed for.

It didn’t matter. Even if I had to go into debt with these people, I owed it to my crew to learn how to free them like I’d promised. “Agreed. I look forward to learning from you, master Drese.”

“Likewise,” he replied, his gravelly voice echoing within his own throat.

I would fulfill my broken promises.