Chapter Text
The city is quiet, the sun rising over the clustered buildings. A few people are down on the docks, occasionally shouting commands that slice through the silence as they prepare to depart for a day of fishing. A young child peeks out of a window before being scolded by her mother to come back to breakfast. Men in suits walk down the sidewalks on the way to work and a few carriages rumble down the cobbled streets.
Among this quiet bustle of city life, a tall man dressed all in black walks briskly down the sidewalk. His skin, although lightly tan and bearing the sun damage that is the marker of working outdoors, is noticeably paler than those around him. Black hair slips out from under his top hat, standing out against his skin. His bright blue eyes scan his surroundings and a man glances up at him only to swerve quickly to the other side of the street.
The man stops in front of a large red door. He stands on the threshold for a moment, staring at the door handle, before inhaling deeply and pushing open the door. Inside is a row of desks and a few seats. He steps up to the only desk with a person, a man who sits writing on a piece of paper. After a minute without acknowledgement, he clears his throat and the seated man jumps a little, leaving a small line going off of the page as he looks up.
“I am here to see Mr. Henry.” The man in black says. The secretary raises an eyebrow, attempting to rub off the stray line on the page, to no avail.
“And who might you be?” Comes the response, and a rustling of paper as the man gives up and gets a new piece out.
“Captain Morpheus of The Dreaming. I assure you that if you look at the records, you will see that I have an appointment-” The man, Morpheus, says, his mouth in a thin line. A clattering as the ink pot is knocked off of the desk interrupts him. The secretary, however, just stares at him, wide-eyed with the quill still in his hand. Morpheus frowns at him, glancing towards the ink now spreading across the wooden floor. A door opening draws his attention away.
“Now, Arthur, don’t keep Captain Morpheus all to yourself.” A short man with thinning white hair stands in the door. Despite his mildly humored words, his expression is stony. Plain eyes glance at the glass and ink on the floor. “And clean up that mess.”
Arthur stutters out an apology, rushing to get a cloth and broom. The old man beckons for Morpheus to come to him. He does, bowing his head slightly as he approaches.
“Good morning to you, Mr. Henry.” He says, but Mr. Henry just frowns a little and turns away, pulling out a pocket watch.
“You are late.” Is the only response, and then Mr. Henry is walking down a hallway and pushing open a door towards the end. Morpheus grits his teeth and glances at his own watch. Only a minute late, and simply because of Arthur, who is clearly new to this job.
Tucking the watch back into his pocket, he takes a deep breath and follows Mr. Henry, entering a large office with a desk taking up half of the space in the middle of the room, bookshelves lining the walls and a large chair on either side of the desk. Mr. Henry sits in the one behind the desk and Morpheus hesitates at the door before settling stiffly into the other chair.
The two sit in silence, the only sound the tick-tocking of a large clock between two of the bookshelves. Morpheus had removed his hat upon entering the building and it now sits in his lap, where he resists the urge to fiddle with the edges. His wavy hair falls to his ears and he moves a hand as if to push a few strands out of his face before aborting the motion and quickly placing it back on top of his hat. Mr. Henry looks at the clock, a stern expression on his face as his fingers tap on the wooden desk.
As the clock hits exactly 9:10, Mr. Henry finally breaks the silence. “This past year, you hit my time schedule perfectly and with little damage to the product.”
He pauses for a long time, so Morpheus responds, “Thank you, sir.” A cutting glare stops him from adding any more. It’s a few more minutes of silence before Mr. Henry speaks again.
“However, I still think it took too long.” Morpheus’ eyes widen.
“Sir, if I may, you gave me six weeks to sail from England, across the rest of Europe, and back. I barely made it back in time, and I count myself lucky that there were no serious storms. Cutting the time any shorter may lead to significant damages-” Morpheus can’t stop himself from protesting to what he knows is about to come next, but Mr. Henry cuts him off before he can finish.
“You may not. I think I know plenty about sailing and how long it takes.” Mr. Henry says harshly. Morpheus forces his eye not to twitch. This man has never even been down to the docks. “You have four weeks to deliver this batch of merchandise and get the money back to me. I expect the money on this desk at this exact time, 9:30 in the morning, on July 30th.” Mr. Henry leans back in his chair, templing his fingers in front of his chest. “Arthur will show you where to find the merchandise.” He spins the chair away to look out the large windows on the far end of the room. Morpheus sits there for a minute, gritting his teeth and trying not to hurl obscenities at this clueless man. He slowly pushes back his chair and stands, holding the hat in his hands as he turns and leaves the room.
He’s walking down the hall when he hears his name called. Turning around, he walks back to the door. “Yes, sir?”
“Close the door on your way out.” Comes the response from the turned chair. Morpheus glares at the hard leather on the back of the chair and grips the door handle, closing it a little more harshly than he intended. Turning sharply on his heel, he marches back down the hallway to where Arthur has finished cleaning up the ink mess and is now searching through drawers for more ink.
For the second time that morning, Morpheus steps up to the desk and clears his throat. Arthur slams the drawer shut and looks up. Morpheus reaches across the desk and grabs onto a pile of record books before they can go tumbling to the floor. Seeing this, Arthur laughs nervously.
“How can I help you, Captain Morpheus, sir?” He asks, shifting on his feet. Morpheus looks doubtfully at this young man, who can’t be any older than 17, but sees that there is still no one else in the room.
“Mr. Henry informs me that you can show me to the merchandise.” Morpheus says, raising an eyebrow as Arthur nods vehemently and begins to fumble around in the desk.
Opening and closing various drawers, he finally finds what he is looking for with a little “aha!” Standing up straight, he holds up a little black key. “Yes, sir, I can do that. Just follow me, right this way.” Arthur scurries around the desk, bumping his hip on the edge of it but continuing as if he doesn’t even notice. He approaches a door on the far end of the room, on the wall across from where Mr. Henry had entered. Morpheus follows him and watches as he unlocks the door, which takes a few tries. When he finally gets it and steps to the side as he opens the door, Morpheus can see that his face has turned a little red and he averts his eyes. Looking away from the embarrassed boy, Morpheus looks into the opening behind the door, which leads down. He steps forward and Arthur makes as if to follow him, but instead of going down he just leans forward a little to make out the faint glint of metal. He nods and steps back, gesturing for Arthur to close the door.
“I’ll be back with my crew tomorrow to pick it up.” Morpheus says, walking toward the door. Arthur closes and locks the door, then hurries to hold the door open for him. Morpheus, who was about to place his hat back on his head, pauses and glances at this change in respect. Then, nodding at Arthur, he places the hat on his head and steps out into the now bustling city.
Stepping to the edge of the sidewalk, he hails a carriage and gets in, directing the driver and then leaning back. As the carriage bumps along the cobblestone streets, Morpheus looks out the window at the passing scenery and thinks. In order to meet the 4 week deadline, he will have to leave as soon as possible tomorrow. Which only leaves the rest of today and part of tomorrow for him and his crew to get ready. Sighing, he rubs his face. This is not safe, at all.
The carriage pulls to a stop outside of a modest house. Thanking and paying the driver, Morpheus steps out and walks up to the little blue door and pulls it open. Inside, he takes off and hangs up his hat and waistcoat. He enters the seating area and picks up that day’s newspaper from an end table. Flipping through it, he continues walking and enters the kitchen. He folds it, looks up, and nearly jumps out of his skin, although this is only revealed through his eyes widening slightly and a light shake of his head.
There are people in his kitchen. Five of them, to be exact. Thankfully, he recognizes them and hasn’t just walked in on a grand robbery.
“Only one of you is supposed to be here.” He says, nodding at a woman leaning against the fireplace. He places the newspaper on the table in the dining room, then walks further into the kitchen.
The first to respond is a short woman. “Well we knew that you had your meeting today, so I suggested that we save time by just waiting here for you.” She has brown skin with spots of lighter tan, mainly around her neck and nose, sharp brown eyes so dark they are almost black, and black hair pulled up. She leans against the wall, next to a window. Morpheus nods appreciatively.
“Thank you, Jessamy.” He says, and then pulls down a cup and pours himself a cup of brandy. He downs it quickly and then pours another one. Behind him, a skinny man with weather beaten skin and brown hair winces.
“...That bad, huh?” Says the man, shifting in his seat at the table and breaking the silence.
“Matthew!” Hisses a tall woman with a shaved head and kind brown eyes sitting next to Matthew.
“What, Lucienne? We all deserve to know, considering it affects us too, y’know, as his crew.” Matthew responds, leaning back in his chair. The man to his right, his white skin also weather beaten and marked with frown lines and a pipe between his teeth, nods his agreement.
Taking another sip of his brandy, Morpheus turns around and leans against the counter. “Four weeks.” He says, rubbing a hand over his face.
“What?” Says the man with the pipe, his voice gruff and a little muffled.
“Four weeks to make a trip across Europe.” Morpheus clarifies, looking up at the ceiling and taking another sip. “We have until the end of this month to put the money on his desk.” Matthew makes a noise of disgust, throwing a hand up. Jessamy lets out a groan and holds out a hand for the bottle of brandy. Mervyn snags it from her, earning an exasperated “ Mervyn ,” and takes the pipe out of his mouth to take a long drink of it and then hands it back.
“That’s ridiculous and completely unsafe,” The woman next to the fireplace finally speaks. She has curly brown hair, pulled back and pinned behind her head but still cascading to her shoulders. Her brown eyes are kind but stern. “What on earth is he thinking?” Morpheus gives her a look.
“You know what he’s thinking, Didi. Money.” He says, finishing his drink and placing the cup on the counter. “We’ll have to go a little further out, that way we can avoid the other boats more easily and it’ll be a bit faster.”
“But those waters are run by pirates.” Didi points out, crossing her arms. Morpheus shrugs, giving a ‘what can you do’ face.
“If we go the regular route, we definitely won’t make it in four weeks.” He sighs. “It’s nothing we haven’t done before.”
“Why do we work for this guy again? He gives us nuthin’ but trouble.” Mervyn interjects gruffly. Matthew gives him a look and he nods. “Oh, right. He’s got the big bucks.”
“Pays us better than any other businessman.” Jessamy agrees. “Otherwise I’m sure Morpheus would’ve given up on him long ago.”
Morpheus makes a face. “I would like to think so, but he was also a client of my father, so maybe not.” He pushes away from the counter. “Either way, we’re stuck with it now, lest he spread the rumor that we don’t follow through on our word and we lose all of our clients. I told his new secretary that we would be there by tomorrow to gather the merchandise, so we had better get a move on.” He holds out a hand to Jessamy and she reluctantly hands back the bottle, which he reshelves. “Can someone inform the rest of the crew? I need to check up on the ship.”
“I’ll do it.” Lucienne says, standing up from the table. Morpheus smiles tightly and thanks her. The group disbands, each knowing what they need to do.
The front door closes, cutting off Matthew’s chatter, and Morpheus and Didi are left alone. She steps over to the table and settles down, resting her cheek on her palm. Morpheus runs a hand through his hair and then sits across from her, leaning back in the chair and rubbing his face with both of his hands.
“You should eat something,” Didi says quietly, eyes scanning his face. “And maybe take a nap. You look exhausted.”
Morpheus shakes his head slowly, his head leaned forward so his forehead is resting in one hand. “There’s not enough time.” He sighs, his mind already listing off all of the things that still need done. The ship checked for repairs, enough food collected for the whole crew for a month, the merchandise collected and loaded. A plate with a little cut up apple and bits of meat is slid in front of him, shaking him out of his preoccupation. He looks up to see that Didi is now standing, leaning over the table across from him.
“At least eat this before you go. I haven’t seen you since you told me about the appointment and I know you haven’t eaten in that time.” She squeezes his shoulder, and then smirks a little. “And it’s really showing. My little brother has nothing to him, he might blow away once we get out to sea!” She laughs, pinching his cheek. He squirms away, glaring, but picks up a slice of the apple and shoves it in his mouth. She backs away, still smiling a little. “Okay, well I’ll be packing up and making sure I have all of my supplies. I had better see an empty plate in the dishpan when I come back.” She walks towards the stairway in the hall.
Morpheus looks up, swallowing. “Hey Di?” She glances back. “Thank you.” He says in a quiet voice.
She smiles. “Of course.” She walks away and Morpheus is left to eat alone, listening to the creaking of the floorboards as she walks around on the floor above him.