Author's Preface
Year 765 Manuk Soulstone
“I am a MAGE!”
This line pierces through the air; it came from her chest as loud and as proud as possible. It even went through the captain’s stubborn tunnel vision.
The captain’s broad brows rise; his features relax with his grip. Connor didn’t have an expression that she can easily decipher. Is that him being stumped?
“I have proof.” Rhea takes this opportunity to wiggle her wrists away from his weak grasp and pulls her arm right out of the left sleeve. She moves to wiggle the scratchy shirt off. That’s when he backs far away from her.
“Stop trying to undress in front of me, Rhea!” He commands, keeping his back towards her now and a hand over the side of his face.
Was he shy?!
A wily smile spreads on her face. Maybe she can use this to get away from his boring training.
“I have my leather bindings on.” She reassures, ripping the shirt off, then the bandages that rope around her shoulder to the pit. Her dark skin under it felt instant gratification once it is all gone. Her fingernails start wracking on her freed skin, sighing in pleasure. Sabol is so cruel to have her wear the itchy bandages for no reason. “MUCH BETTER!”
That’s when the captain turns back his attention, and those features are full of even more questions. “By the gods…”
The bullet hole that was once there is nowhere to be seen, the only thing that ever hints that she sustained an injury is a very faint “X” marking, red from being scratched. Soon, that will vanish like any other injuries in her life.
Connor advances towards her again. She thinks about kicking him in the shin for an impulsive second. His rough fingertips tracing the markings, her brain fizzes out by his sudden touch.
“HEY! Ask first!?” Rhea warns but it reaches to deaf ears.
Connor investigates her mark by touching and prodding. He had the same attentiveness as when he is deep in his map plotting or when she catches him tinkering away at his alchemy table.
Rhea had to train her attention on that very same alchemy table to keep herself from being violent. It isn’t easy, chanting in her head how not once had he ever tried to touch her outside of a professional reason.
“Hmph. That explains things...” Connor stops touching her, taking a step back. Lost in his own thoughts.
Finally. “What things…?” Rhea ran her palm over to the spot that he touches, trying to ignore the tingles she feels from his earlier touches. Her true priorities are for her bow and quiver. She saw both hanging by the wire that kept his coat and utility belt up.
A scary thought rushes through her mind. If he reacts terribly towards her powers, then she might have to fight her way out. But…what about the people she started to get friendly with? Suddenly the urge to fight her way through goes away. She wants more than nothing to stay with this crew. The next words held her in suspense.
“You’ve burned that man in that mansion.”-She winces. - “Then exploded that heavy mortar round.”-She winces again. - “Lastly, you healed over your bullet wound last night…and felt hotter than any fever I ever experienced in my life. Steam was coming off you…yet no sweat- “
Rhea can’t take all his analytical accusations, even though they are all true. She cups her hands and states, “The crew will be safe from me so long as I have control over my fires…Connor.”
She imagines the flames forming between her fingertips. After a few breaths, her fingers heats up and the fire sprouts from them. It is small and meager, just as she wills it.
This intrigues the captain, pacing right over to investigate. He didn’t dare touch it, but those eyes flicker with so many theories or experiments? Her back shivers, though her mind can’t help but find his fascination adorable.
Adorable?
That ’ adorable ’ face vanishes as quickly as the fire sprouts. The Captain of the Nightmare Maiden had return.
“Fine Rhea. You do well to remember the punishment for betrayal.”
He cannot ever have a proper conversation. She scoffs with an eye roll, the fires receding back into her skin. Flicking her wrists to cool them off. “Keelhauling. How can I forget?”
At least, he isn’t trying to put her in some cell. She heard strange rumors that there are jail cells here currently used for the prisoners of ship battles. Connor never shares details about it, the rumors did.
“Hmph.” Connor’s one sound answer meant this time that she is correct. He moves back to the desk, appearing to lose interest in her for the meantime. “Go get your rest. You will need it for work at the Gullian’s roost.”
“Wait!? I need my bow and quiver!” Rhea puffs out her cheeks, at least expecting that he will delve further in their conversation. This man is so quick to push her away. It disappoints her for some reason. “Really, that is all you going to ask!?”
“Not at this hour. Get your things then show yourself out.” Connor filterless answer stings, sitting behind the desk again to mull over a drawing of directions on a piece of paper.
“Aye…aye.” Rhea flares her nose to dissipate her irritation. His promise to ask these questions later did make her nervous. She wonders how much interrogating he is going to do.
Rhea won’t know now while Connor lost his willingness to have a conversation. She saunters over the hanging bow and quiver. This close she notices the map behind him had the markings of ’ Dasmascus City of Slaves’ . A stray gasp escapes her, attracting Connor at once.
“What is it now?” Connor follows her gaze. She didn’t wait to see how he reacts.
“Nothing!” Rhea’s heart felt like it is just going to explode, gathering her weapons and rushing right out the door. “ Chalathic-wrenris !?”
Rhea finds herself back in the middle of the deck, panting. She only ever heard rumors of Dasmascus, luckily, escaping the confines of slavery before that ever became her reality. It’s a fortified island housing a bandit community protected by the fortified walls around the city. The walls protect them from attack, but it costs the lives of many slaves to make it. They are known for their mining caves and task slaves to work to death. And The Grand Bidding Festival, where they try to sell all kinds of illegal and legal wares. Where the best batches of slaves are bidded off to the highest of bidders for…awful things.
What does Connor want from them?
Rhea clenches the weapons close to her chest, standing there shaking with rage from all the assumptions. Not even the mystical floating orange creature can clear this wrong that forms in her chest…it is also known as hatred.
A quick decision is made, and she fibds her way back to the room that she shares with Ruffin. She isn’t shocked to not see him in bed and assumes that he is doing exactly as she asked, or he can be doing his own things. As the cabin boy of this ship, he had pretty much more range throughout the ship than anyone else on it. Rhea can barely wander without being watched. She can feel the eyes even when she is allowed to travel on sections of this ship. It must be the captain’s doing to have so many to watch her. It had nothing to do with the fact that she causes so much trouble. Rhea grumbles to herself, resorting to believing such claims and the new ones that emerges when she saw ‘Dasmascus’ written on his map. As soon as her head hit the thin pillow, she lost consciousness due to her immense exhaustion. The weight of her anxieties had made her so listless. It is thankfully a very dreamless slumber welcomes her this time around, despite the embers of hatred setting root in her mind.
The morning crawls over, and she felt someone shaking her by the shoulders. Her hands reach out to grab this individual by the scruff of his shirt, sucking back some drool that pools in her mouth from her deep slumber.
“Whhaaaat vishkas !?”
The one thing she hates more than being touched by a stranger is being woken up abruptly.
Ruffin is the culprit; she grips the hemming of his shirt more, trying to cage her rage just in the fingertips.
“Rhea!? How can you miss your shift for the Gullians roost!?” Ruffin retracts his hands, unfazed by her rage.
Shift!? Seriously!? “What shift!?” Rhea yelps back, the anxiety surfacing in the pit of her empty stomach. “I was given no shift!?”
“Doesn’t matter. Captain is looking for you.” Ruffin urges her hands off his shirt. She complies only because now she had to rush to get ready. Ruffin’s shirt still had the wrinkles where she grip so hard.
Rhea grumbles, looking all around her but having to settle down with the clothes that she slept in.
“There are new clothes for you in the chest. You know from our ship boarding? I left some rations for you too. Now get dressed and go find him on the deck!” Ruffin chastises with an annoyed ’ harrumphed ,’ shifting his nose up as he left the room. She deserves that for ruining his shirt. It didn’t mean she won’t be petty.
“THANK YOU RUFFY !?” Her smile ticks up when she heard his exaggerated groan at the other side of the door. It is so easy to annoy the young cabin boy.
Rhea finds the two brown rations bags on top of the chest, taking the dry meat out and munching it away. She prefers the meat out of the nuts and dried blocks of bread, the saltiness of those things making her tongue dryer than the Drake Tail Desert.
As she chews away, she haphazardly changes into the new clothes hidden in this chest. A white blouse closer to her size now, the sleeves only go past her wrist by a fraction. And the rest of the shirt drapes over her backside, only giving a slight illusion of shape, the front had a V-shaped collar that dipped enough to show off her leather binding and bunch up cleavage.
Briefly, she wonders if maybe she had gained weight since the wrapping felt tighter than usual. They have been supplying food two times every day and multiple rations, which is a huge difference compared to her life in the orphanage and in the streets. Now she is thinking it might be due time to get rid of it and swap it for bandage wrap. The thought made her shudder, the coarse wrapping on her tender nipples just sounds awful.
Save it for another time. Rhea adjusts her new blouse, tucking the sleeves up to her elbows to exposes the leather binding around her forearms. Then she slips on her new plain gray pants. These pair fit better than the other, giving her shape where she is missing before. However, …
Rhea took them off at once, pulling a knife out to start cutting the fabric off up to the knees. She needs access to her leg cuff.
Captain Connor is probably on the verge of sending another person down to find her. This woman can care less; comfort trumps any unneeded sense of pleasing a rather unforgiving captain.
This woman is right to assume that the captain will send someone. The door vibrates from the heavy knocks, and the rumbling tone of a weathered seafarer breaks the silence. “Lass ye be takin’ a long time there! Everythin’ alrigh’”
It is Gash! “YES! I will be out!” Rhea shoves her thighs and rear into these pants, really liking the feel of how they hug her skin. Something about this fabric differs from the others she worn. It felt silky smooth on the inside. Affixing her bow and quiver on her back, she finally left the room, nearly bumping into Gash while she is at it. His frame is bigger, built stocky as if all he did is take on the harsh waves of the sea. The skin around his knuckles are scarred from an exceedingly long life of fighting. His face is scraggly, letting his beard grow around his jawline. His lips are set in a frown, he isn’t as serious as the captain, but he is certainly unhappy having to go looking for her.
“Rhea…capt’n-“
“I am moving now! See!?” Rhea slips by him; arms crossing behind her head to stretch out her back. It is a long enough augmenting session to make her back ache slightly. Her goal is now to meet the captain.
“Lass. If ye keep testin’ the capt’n…” Gash follows her, his foot fell heavier than hers, yet he is not a man lacking strength. She had seen this old man fight more than twice now with power hidden beneath his stocky frame.
“Then I might have to clean the deck again! I know Gash.” Right now, your captain owes me a lot of answers to warrant my disobedience. Rhea shambles on with an exasperated Gash behind her. This is not her first dealings with the captain’s form of punishment. She readies herself every day to receive it. It is just now she had every right to be difficult. Dasmascus…
“Lass. Many o’ us wants ye t’ last more than jus’ one port stop.” Gash warnings rub her the wrong way. There is no way Gash can ever understand her predicament as a brief ex-slave herself. To think that the captain, her own employer, might find interest in such a terrible slave encampment just messes with her psyche. And here she is ready to give Gash some slack. Besides, whatever Gash says only benefits the captain. Nothing more.
“I will be fine.” Rhea chimes, bounding up the steps outside of this hatch. A reckless grin forms on her face, contemplating what she will say to Captain Connor next. There is no room for anxiety now. Just the rage making the fires in her dance and reflects the very silver of her irises.
“I don’t like that look…” Gash mumbles; he is trying hard to convince her to behave with the tense posture and the frown that deepens with his wrinkles.
“Then do not look!” Rhea crawls out of the hatch and did not wait for the old sea dog to come out. It is her opportunity to face the captain with no one to get in her way.
Manuk’s throne cast a fine bright beam to light everything on its surface, shadows trembles in the corners where the magnificent light did not reach. The ocean around them glitters with rays, the hides of breaching sea-mutts glistens with the glow. Even her dark skin glistens, and the power of its shine already boosts her energy. She is ready for anything!
FANART BY IZZYBLOOM91 inspired by this scene.