Author's Preface
Year 765 Manuk Soulstone
The Nightmare Maiden arrives the ports of Dasmascus with no hitch the day of the Grand Bidding Festival. The fortified harbor of this island is litter with all kinds of ships of varying markings and affiliation. Ships, just like the Nightmare Maiden, are followed from behind by another ship. The naval guards of Dasmascus are on high alert, while the houses and land are decorated with lights and splendor. Dasmascus ships floats with their bright colorful lanterns all over it. Manuk sank behind the horizon, making the decorations glow so brilliantly just like the lanterns on those ships.
Connor spectates the liveliness of the harbor. He is peering from the helm left side again, arms cross over his chest. This time he is dressed to impress the landlord.
The clothes he wears are from taking whatever is found in the belly of the Armor Brother’s now sunken ship. A tailored light brown coat and blue pant combo hugs his frame. The lapel and collar of the coat are marked with small darker simplistic etchings of the tentacles of a chtullu. These must be made for festival going. He will just have to thank the gods for gracing his luck for finding them and it somehow fits his large stature.
Finding simple black shoes to go with his outfit, he made sure to look the part of an intrigued buyer and seller. Even his hair was carefully washed and combed completely back, his face is clean from budding hair. Connor tucks his pistol just on the hoister strap around his torso while some of his alchemy bottles are tied to his belt. Just like his pistol, the bottles hide beneath the jacket as well thanks to the fact he places them so far away from his belt buckle. His past had to be thanked for knowledge of fashionable wealth even with weapons. Of course, this pirate captain won’t need to over concern himself with his appearance. This is not his show to dazzle.
The Nightmare Maiden slinks closer to the pier, and a certain voice piques his interest. The voices of a very reluctant woman and a young lad reprimanding her whining.
“How does this help with the mission!?”
“Rhea! The captain had made that clear already! Stop fussing and let me fix this on you! HEY”
Connor can hear them, or really her , thudding over to confront him. Her every dramatic step is followed by a jingling of jewelry. The closer she got, the harder it is to really ignore her. This woman is incapable of being non-confrontational.
“ Mister Captain. Mind explaining how any of this will help with the mission?”
We are now in week two and yet she still refuses to call me by my proper title…
Connor flares his nose; there is no way she is going to leave him and get ready on her own. She is too stubborn of a woman to ever cave so easily. Fixing the end of his coat, he turns to face the very animated woman.
Rhea is the embodiment of fire with the way her “ tame ” red curls sway with the winds against the measly restraints of a hair ribbon. Her dark skin looks so warm to the touch. Her skin glisten in the dim orange light, tempting enough to touch. Her glittering silver eyes bore holes in him, that she will burn someone if they did. A true fire nymph indeed…
Her current appearance is more breathtaking than he bargains for. Half her hair is fashion into a high ponytail while the rest flows freely behind her, some stray curls escapes and frame her face. A few strands dance before her nose, tempting him to brush it aside for her. Perhaps to give himself more view of the light make-up that paints those glowering lips. So full, he dares the stray thought to imagine if they are able to cushion a heated lip lock. That is snuff out as soon as it visits his skull. This captain had stronger willpower than that, and he really did better not to visit such thoughts. He clears the weakness with a quick snort, inspecting the rest of her.
Rhea wears a dress meant for dancers at these festivities. A pure white two piece, with the top hugging her ample bosom. The top only covers her unbounded chest, leaving not much to imagine now that there is nothing binding them down. There is more weight to the breasts, and he will be an idiot not to notice. Her flat belly is also out of the open, with a small silver chain roping around the smallest portion of her waist. An enticing little feature that had him home in further, seeing she had her own muscle definition carving out the flatness of her stomach.
Her white flowing skirt hugs her wide-set hips and reaches to her ankles. The skirt split off at the sides, showing off her thick thighs and tense calves. She wears jewel sandals that match the rest of her silver jewelry. This woman is still rather thin but since they first met, she filled up just in the right places….to torment.
Ruffin barges in just in time to break him from his thoughts. The boy had a bigger jewel hairpin with feathers in his grasp, “Captain, she just won’t listen…”
“I will not be seated through this anymore! If this man is not enticed with what I have now, then he is impotent!?”
She’s not wrong. It’s working. Connor uses the corner of his eye to notice some of the working crew trying to peek in their way. He is certain one of the crew peeking is Jakobe and fought back a snarl. That one certainly took a shine on Rhea after the last ship battle. Didn’t matter how pleasant someone is, no one on this ship is allowed to pursue Rhea. No one.
It takes everything in him not to yell at them to sod off. Instead, he grabs the hair clip right out of Ruffin’s hand. It is a jewel replication of a razorbeak which is a singing flying creature of the Yventlin west coast. “Ruffin…go find me shackles.”
“Aye, aye!” Ruffin hurries on to do as commanded.
Rhea winces at the word “ shackle” , losing a lot of the misplace confidence she was flaunting earlier. Even her curling fingers shake beside her hips. The life of a slave still scars her mentally, reminding Connor to try to be kind. Kind?
Kindness is not who he is, it must be her presence that is getting his sense of self skewed. On the surface, she is a beautiful woman, everything else about her is a red flag. Kindness is not a requirement for the people he employs. Nothing else…
Her melodic voice last night still haunts him, tearing down his pragmatism. She is more than just a mage with beauty, a voice that can sway mortals hides beneath that shell of hers. Her actions in the past speak louder than her insubordinations against him. As that Grace Risa told him about her.
“She has a shinning heart.”
Gods. In the back of his mind, a voice of regret is born from having her to risk her own mental fortitude just so he can get what he wants. That’s the thing…he would not have made the request if he didn’t believe that she can handle it. Those eyes shine with so much fire right now. It is brilliant.
“Rhea. Let me fix this on you.” Connor is calm when he asks, pointing at the hairpiece in his hand. Rhea snaps her attention to him; her shaking fists relax and eyeing him with newfound curiosity.
Connor didn’t know when she started to trust him, sliding closer to him and giving him access. She is so short compared to him; the top of her head barely reaches his collarbone. He can easily crush her with how small she is. The protective side of him nearly gears him to change his mind, back out of this plan and try getting into the mansion in a separate way. Instead, he went ahead and fix the curls away from her face and clasp the pin to keep the stray hair from falling over her face. Her hair is just as soft as he expects. Gods…
“Rhea. You only need to get into the mansion to open a way in. By the time Chemuk’s Phial rises high in the sky, we will get you.” Connor relays the plan of her escape, ripping his hands away once he is satisfied that the hairpiece won’t go anywhere. It didn’t, but he wishes he hadn’t been this close, he can see her fluster, and it is enough to have him want all the wrong things. It’s just her outfit…this feeling must pass.
“What if that jerk… never mind.” Rhea sucks that question back in with her fluster, there is disdain in her tone. This landlord of Dasmascus is certainly a sick individual. A sick man by the name of Dagon, his conquest is well known around at sea. That man works his slaves till they became the bones fed into this fortress. His beautiful women are often destroyed and cast aside in the streets once they lose their glamor. The ex-concubines must resort to selling themselves to survive. Not even being Dagon’s concubine means anything once he gets bored of them.
“Do what you must to escape from him. However, don’t let them catch you… I swear to you to get you out before the night truly ends.” Then destroy another sick landlord. Connor looks down on her, waiting for her to meet his gaze. Wanting her to, it will surely remove that defeat in her shoulders.
“Aye captain.” Rhea did catch his eyes, and it did remove that slump, but now it is exchanged with confusion. He is certainly confusing himself as well. When is he ever capable of reassuring someone? Was I about to-?
“Captain. I got the shackles.” Ruffin bounds back with the wrist shackles as promise. The metal will clash with the whole ensemble that she wears but it is the only way to go in without raising suspicions. An unchained Krax is a suspicious one.
Connor gathers his professionalism before Ruffin catches on as well. Connor didn’t want these rumors of them spreading any more than they have already. Besides, these fantasies can never be actioned. His goals will surely hurt anyone that is close to him on that level. That is a fate he wants no one to fall into. Especially, Rhea.
“Rhea, you know what to do.” It is time for the captain’s side of him to intervene, facing himself away from her. Breaking their eye contact helps restrain these emotions. Time is never wasted carelessly for the Captain of the Nightmare Maiden.
“Aye, aye.” Rhea mumbles; he can feel her eyes on him studying him. The eyes of a caged tigrou for sure, waiting to pounce and cause havoc the second it gets its chance. Those eyes are boring on his back, a hint that she is conspiring to make his life even more difficult from here on out.
He knows that for certain.
“Ruffin. Once we meet the land, go through its underbelly and find me the best path in.” This boy is well-versed when it comes to the underbellies of cities. Too young to be a threat and too street smart to get fooled by anyone. The very reason he enlists the lad.
“Aye aye, captain!” The blond-headed boy chimes, clasping the shackles on Rhea. The woman cusses in Krax to show her irritation. “Sorry…Rhea.”
The Krax grumbles something, but it is deafened by the sounds of the festivities as they close in on Dasmascus’s port. And their new adventures await in the colors of the lights, decorations, the music and the laughter. This captain can see past the spectacular glamor, the darkness hid well in the mask of this festival. The very darkness that blocks his way to his goals.
You won’t stop me from taking my blue dust...and then…I will finally get my artifacts.