Chapter Text
Night had set over the modest Dhalmekian port, the flickering lights of lanterns and oil lamps dancing on the dark water of the bay. Dusty palm trees rustled in the wind, swaying shadows against a starry sky. The harbour itself was quiet, water lapping against the wooden flanks of row boats and shallops and the single full-rigged frigate that towered above them with masts like spires reaching for the heavens. Its bow was shaped into a raptor's head, sharp eyes surveying the sleepy harbour.
The town itself on the other hand, nestled against the side of a mountain like a glowing insect nest, was buzzing with life. The merchants had cleared the streets to make way for drunkards and courtesans, brawlers and gamblers and every other kind of unsavoury folk that found themselves relieved of the moral obligations the sun had imposed on them. Small it might be, but the town of Ra'desh was known for its malleable relationship with law and propriety, and so the coin flowed into the grimy coffers of its entertainment district not just from its own denizens but also many a nightly visitor from nearby, more respectable towns.
Much of the rum-fuelled activity centered around a two-storey building that sat broad and hunched at the edge of the town square, a mere half mile drunken stumble from the quiet harbour. Music bled through the rotting wood of its walls, and the dust on the road outside mingled with spilled alcohol and the bodily fluids of less capable drinkers that had taken on more than they could handle. The inside was crowded, smelling of sweat and booze, too many faces illuminated by too few flames flickering behind dirty glass. The room was filled with smoke and chattering voices and the clatter of dice on worn wooden tables.
Joshua was sitting in his usual spot. A table in the very corner of the room, perched upon a low wooden platform that afforded him an excellent view of the rowdy crowd. As usual, a plate of food and a bottle of his preferred wine had appeared in front of him as soon as he had sat down, courtesy of the host. Both were half empty now and he was sitting with one of his boots braced against the edge of the table, picking out dirt from under his fingernails with the point of his dagger, and watching.
The crowd was unsurprising thus far; a few drunken greetings and toasts directed his way, a few whispers and covert glances, a few scowls and one mouthful of spit. The latter only elicited a mild smile - the offender was merely a fool who hadn't heard of him yet, and their companions would be sure to correct that mistake long before Joshua himself would be forced to enlighten them. There were many small towns such as this one scattered on the coast of Storm, and he was well known in every one.
The few hostile faces did not bother him. His reputation as well as the general distrust against any kind of official authority was enough protection for him to drink in peace, even if that same notoriety would have earned him a quick trip to the gallows in any law-abiding town. Besides, he was not looking to enjoy the other patron's company tonight. Tonight, he was on the hunt.
He had felt the flicker as soon as he had set foot into the noisy tavern - a spark of light, somewhere in the mire of bodies that covered the groaning floorboards from corner to corner. He had honed his skill to sense others of his kind over the years, until there was little doubt what treasure was hiding in this very building. A light bearer. Finally.
Now he was watching and waiting, twirling a strand of his shoulder-length hair as he followed the spark with his mind. It flickered and moved, moved... towards him.
Yes.
He rose from his chair, snatching the worn tricorne from the table and putting it on his head before leaving his observation post, food and wine forgotten. The crowd parted in front of him, allowing him to cross the taproom unhurriedly. There was no need to hurry when the spark was coming to him, lurching and swaying like a boat in a storm.
He had made it halfway to the bar when two men walked straight into him. One was stumbling, barely keeping upright in his drunken daze. He squinted at the dimly lit room from behind dirty blond hair, honey brown eyes unfocussed. The other man had wrapped a helpful arm around the blond's broad shoulders, guiding him towards the back door and the dark alley beyond. He was shorter, with a weathered face and greasy dark hair, but Joshua barely afforded him a single glance. His attention was on the taller man. His light.
'Come on, nearly there', the dark haired man said in that overly friendly voice that usually preceded a knife being sunk into an unsuspecting throat.
'No, no, you don't understand', the light bearer slurred. The words dripped from his lips like tar, slow and sticky. 'I need... I need a ship. I...'
'Sure', the dark haired man said smoothly. 'I can get you a ship. Just through this door, it's not far.'
'I'm the Crown... the Crown Prince. I can pay. I need a ship.'
The dark haired man sighed and dragged his babbling target towards the door. He was not overly successful, given that the bearer was tall and solidly built and currently about as well coordinated as a dead squid.
'Yes, yes, you said so already. But this is business. Come with me, show me your money and then you can get whatever bloody ship you want.'
The bearer was handsome, that much was evident even with the way his face was drooping behind limp strands of blond hair. He also was lacking a brand, which was unusual. Not all slaves were bearers - they were too rare to satisfy the demands of the realm - but all bearers were slaves if they were caught. This one had been lucky if he had escaped the brand for so long.
His features were strong and regal, and he might truly have passed for a prince if Joshua had not sensed his magic flickering beneath his skin like a beacon. The claim to royalty that he kept muttering with an increasingly heavy tongue would not save him now, of course. An imaginative drunk - or a deluded one. It hardly mattered to Joshua, but if that man was left to his own devices, he would surely get himself killed. Which would be a shame, both for the light in his veins and the pretty face.
Joshua stepped forward and grabbed the bearer by the arm, pressing himself against the unsteady body in a way he knew was seductive even to someone as far gone as this.
'I hear you need a ride', he purred into the bearer's ear. 'I can give you one. At least for tonight.'
Brown eyes blinked at him slowly.
'Hey!', the dark haired man snapped, pulling his wobbling prize closer. 'That one's mine. You can have what's left once I'm done.'
Joshua smiled sweetly.
'Thank you for the generous offer, but I'm afraid I must decline. Come, Your Highness.'
The bearer seemed to perk up upon hearing the title. He followed like a lost puppy when Joshua turned towards the door, not even noticing the dark haired stranger that clung to him angrily. The man eventually had to let go to avoid meeting the stained floorboards head on.
'Prick', he growled, just loud enough for Joshua to hear. 'Coming in here as if he's better than everyone else. Fucking abomination -'
The flames of the lanterns right next to the man's head flared wildly, cracking their glass prisons and raining heated shards on the head of dark hair. The man stumbled back with a yelp, right into the ring of curious onlookers that had formed around him. Joshua only cast a scathing glance over his shoulder before stalking away with his prize in tow.
'What the fuck are you thinking?', someone hissed at the thwarted cutthroat behind him. 'He's the Phoenix.'
He didn't pay them any more mind. The light bearer was plodding along obediently as he stepped out into the night, a warm wind carrying foul smelling air through the narrow alley. Joshua tightened his grasp on a well-muscled arm to keep its owner from sagging and set off in the direction of the harbour.
*********
Their walk to the docks was faster than anticipated. At first the blond bearer was dragging his feet, leaning heavily on Joshua as he swayed from side to side with every step. But the longer they walked the more he righted himself, flailing limbs regaining their agency. It was an impressive recovery - Joshua had heard of the healing powers of light aspected bearers, but he had not expected them to extend to alcohol poisoning. It seemed that they did though, because by the time their boots were echoing on the peacefully rotting wood of the docks, the bearer was walking mostly unassisted. Which was a bit of a shame, because the feeling of his firm body pressed against Joshua's had been quite nice. He was an impressive specimen - even if it hadn't been for his magic... Joshua didn't usually pick up men too drunk to get it up, but for this one, he might have tried.
The bearer's hair looked less dirty now that they had left the dim glow of the tavern's lanterns; it was almost fair enough to shine silver under the light of the moon. He was as tall as Joshua but broader; sculpted under the worn fabric of his clothes. His face was handsome, though not the kind of handsome one would find in a brothel but rather the features of a hero from old tales. More than once Joshua caught himself sneaking a thoroughly enjoyable look.
The harbour was filled with the quiet splashing of waves, the groan of wood and the crack of ropes. And beyond that, ever present like the breath of the world itself, the sound of the ocean. Joshua was familiar enough with them to not mind disturbing the quiet; purposefully he strode along the pier, breathing deeply of the salty air to drive the stench of the town from his lungs.
'Where... are we?'
He turned back to see the bearer look around dazedly, a hand pressed to his head.
'Look at that', Joshua exclaimed amusedly. 'He speaks!'
The bearer squinted at him, wobbling on his feet before regaining some kind of balance.
'I... was in a tavern...'
'Yes, and you were about to follow a nice stranger into a dark alley. You really shouldn't do that in a town like this.'
'Yes.' More squinting. 'You look like an angel.'
Joshua laughed, head thrown back as his voice tore through the harbour's quiet air.
'No angels here, Your Highness. Just thugs and pirates, some more helpful than others. If the price is right.'
'I... can pay.'
'You said so, which almost got you killed.' Joshua stepped closer with a broad grin, running a teasing finger down that broad chest. Yes... he would really like a nibble of those pecs. 'Lucky for you, your company is all I ask.'
He did not expect the bearer to surge forward and kiss him. Square on the mouth; not the rough, clumsy kissing that happened behind a tavern or in the storeroom of a ship whenever someone fancied a quick fuck, but the soft and indulgent kind. The reverent kind usually reserved for a lover. The bearer's breath still tasted distinctly of alcohol and the ever present salt of the sea. It was nice, really.
'Dion', the bearer gasped when he pulled back. Then suddenly he blushed furiously, the darkening of his face visible even under the light of the moon that washed the whole world clean of colour. 'I apologize, I... I usually don't...'
Joshua gently patted his cheek.
'You'll have to work harder than that to offend me, I assure you.'
Then he kissed back, roughly, because he did fancy a quick fuck. Or a slow one - there was so much of that body to explore. And how lucky, that he had found not only a pretty light bearer, but also a lonely one. Especially since with the way Dion had barely kept on his feet back in the tavern, Joshua had not expected to get anywhere tonight except a horizontal surface where he could leave the other man to sleep off his bad decisions.
Dion had no intention of falling asleep though, as was evident when little later Joshua slammed him down on a table covered in maps and star charts, right between a half empty bottle of rum and a dagger that was pinning a smudged drawing of a tentacled sea monster to the groaning wood. The lantern dangling from the low ceiling of the room was dark, but a wave of Joshua's hand made it spark to life and pour its flickering light over Dion's face. His eyes were clear now, almost unsettlingly focussed as he stared up at Joshua with parted lips.
Paper crinkled as Joshua climbed on the table to straddle Dion's thighs, making sure to grind down his hips purposefully as he settled down. His tight pants were not much of a barrier as their hardenig cocks rubbed together, and Dion hissed and bucked up his hips greedily. The table shook with his efforts, pieces of paper floating to the ground.
Joshua leaned down and let his body melt against Dion's torso until his lips were brushing against blond hair.
'You know', he purred, breath tickling the shell of Dion's ear. 'They say that if you fuck on the sea you have to put in extra effort. Because if you don't impress Leviathan with your prowess, she will curse you with a limp cock until the next time you set foot on dry land.'
Dion abruptly stilled under him, craning his head to give Joshua a worried glance.
'Really?'
Joshua cackled.
'No. But you should make an effort anyway.' He ran his tongue along Dion's neck, making sure that the touch carried with it a trace of the fire that lived in his veins. 'The Phoenix doesn't take well to being disappointed either.'
He pushed himself up on his knees, severing the contact just long enough to peel off his boots and pants with practised motions. His cock sprang free as soon as he opened the laces and Dion followed the movement with eyes the colour of the barrel aged rum sloshing around in its bottle on the table right next to them. Beautiful. Strong hands scrabbled to take a hold of Joshua's hips as soon as he settled in place again, nails digging into his skin and leaving little crescent shapes. Dion's trousers were rough as they rubbed against Joshua's cock with every movement but Joshua just pressed down harder, feeling the bulge under the fabric twitch in response. Dion was truly a sight where he was laid out on the table, eyes rolling back in his head and mouth hanging open as he panted heavily. He did not seem in a state to do much else, but for now Joshua was happy enough to take what he wanted.
Impatiently he shoved his hands between their bodies to pry open Dion's trousers and take a hold of the throbbing cock that was straining against the fabric. It was hot and heavy in his hand, big enough to make him salivate. He gave it a cursory stroke, watching the way Dion's back arched off the table as he did.
He did not waste much time before rising on his knees and lining up Dion's cock, the blunt head catching on his rim as he rolled his hips. It was a wonderful tease and so he did it again, savouring the hot slide that promised wonders to come until Dion shuddered under him and slick precum trickled over the hand that was still grasping the velvet shaft.
The stretch was delicious when Joshua finally sank down on the hard length, slowly at first until Dion's breath came in helpless little whimpers and his fingers twitched weakly on Joshua's hips. Then he slammed down the rest of the way, bearing down with all his weight while Dion bucked wildly under him. It drove his cock even deeper and Joshua didn't even try to bite back his moan when the movement dragged over all the right spots inside of him. He ground against Dion's body, rolling his hips in small circles until Dion went slack again, blinking up blearily with those lovely eyes. Joshua just gave him a broad grin as he settled more comfortably on his perch, cock shifting inside of him and making him clench down on that aching hardness. Then he stilled, leisurely righting the tricorne on his head. The bottle of rum was next, cool against his heated skin as he lifted it to his lips and gulped down the amber liquid. A few drops trickled down his chin and over his collarbone, and he just knew that Dion's eyes were following them like the needle of a compass followed a magnet.
He sat back, bottle dangling from his fingers and his other hand lazily stroking his cock while he watched Dion's chest rise and fall with harsh breaths. The muscular thighs under him were trembling, every involuntary twitch a pleasant shudder up his spine as the feeling of fullness intensified.
It took only a few moments for Dion to remember that he had a goddess to impress, or maybe to finally lose the last shred of self-control. He thrust his hips up into the heat of Joshua's body, an involuntary jerk at first but when Joshua arched his back with a pleased moan he did it again. His fingers dug into pale skin as he picked up a stuttering rhythm until Joshua indulged him; setting aside his bottle he planted his hands on Dion's chest and lifted himself up, sinking back down to meet Dion's thrusts. His cock was bobbing between his thighs, flushed and weeping precum over Dion's shirt.
The shirt was an annoyance; clinging to Dion's broad frame closely enough to give an all too specific idea of the body beneath, but stubbornly covering all that heated skin. Joshua let fire flow into his fingertips, just enough to sear the fabric as he traced a line from Dion's throat down to his navel. It earned him a gasp as the heat bit into the skin underneath, and he ripped the ruined shirt apart to soothe the sting with his tongue. Dion's groan was a rumble against his lips and then the hands clawing at his hips pulled him down roughly to drive that perfect cock even deeper.
Dion's body was a plane of rippling muscle and Joshua explored it gleefully with lips and tongue and scraping teeth. He licked at the strong jawline, moaning against the damp skin when Dion's hips ground against his. Their rhythm was falling apart, a frantic pushing and humping against each other as they both tumbled ever closer to release. Joshua panted as he mouthed his way down Dion's sculpted chest; he caught a nipple between his teeth and suddenly Dion seized under him, cock twitching inside Joshua's body as he spilled with a cry.
Joshua stroked himself to completion to the feeling of hot seed filling him, head thrown back and hair clinging to his sweaty neck. He spilled as well, over his own hand and over Dion's stomach and chest, until he slumped down in blissful exhaustion. Dion's softening cock slipped out of his weakly twitching hole as he drew away, cum dribbling down the inside of his thighs. He plopped down on the table, right on top of the stained and torn maps, rolling on his back to stretch out his aching legs. He thought that the Warden of the Sea was surely impressed - he knew that he was.
When he turned his head he barked an incredulous laugh; next to him, Dion was lying with his head lolling to the side, eyes closed and mouth hanging open as he was peacefully asleep.
Well. It would do him well to sleep off the remainder of his intoxication. And then... they would be at sea for a long time. And Joshua was certainly curious to see what this light bearer was capable of, in every possible way.
********
Dion woke up slowly. His head was pounding, a dry feeling bristling in his mouth when he tried to move his tongue. The room felt like it was moving around him, swaying gently up and down until his stomach was roiling in offense.
He had been... in a tavern. Had he not? A tavern after long weeks of travel through the desert, a small port that no imperial soldier would set foot in if they knew what was good for them. He... had been looking for a ship, right.
The room was moving. Up and down, up and down. He was going to be sick.
He blinked open his eyes and light stabbed into his head, buried all the way into his skull like a knife being driven through the bone. After a moment his eyes adjusted, enough to realize that the light was bright but soft, sunlight seeping through thick glass windows. Then he realized that he was looking at a face.
It was a beautiful face, one worthy of paintings and statues - finely crafted features dusted with freckles like a starry night sky. Long lashes painting soft shadows on elegant cheekbones, plush lips slightly parted in sleep. The face was framed by feathery hair that cascaded around it in unruly waves, reddish blond with golden accents where the strands had been bleached by sun and saltwater.
Dion shifted and paper crinkled under him - the movement made him realize how sore he was, muscles stiff after a night of sleeping on a hard and unforgiving surface. But it allowed him to see more of that beautiful creature sleeping next to him, allowed him to see... skin, mostly.
The man was wearing a black shirt, threads worn and faded. There was an indecent lack of laces, exposing a chest that was just as covered in freckles as the face it belonged to. Beyond that, the man was naked. Curled up like a cat on this wooden surface covered in crumpled paper, and very naked.
Dion felt his heart leap into his throat and he hastily took stock of his own state of dress - which did not make matters any better. His shirt was in tatters, frayed pieces blackened at the edges like by fire. His trousers unlaced and barely clinging to his hips, cock on display. When he moved again, he noticed the uncomfortable stickiness of his skin that was an all too obvious remainder of his nightly activities.
It had been a long time since he had allowed himself to become so thoroughly inebriated. But at least he had been the first one to wake - it would not do for his unknown companion to wake up to them both in such a deplorable state.
Dion grimaced and rolled over, the throbbing in his head intensifying with the movement. There was a rushing in his ears that seemed to pulse and rise and fall along with the incessant swaying of the room around him. He ignored it as best he could, looked up to inspect his surroundings and...
...stared right into yet another face.
This one was very awake and darkened by a frown like a thundercloud. The man it belonged to stood over Dion with his arms crossed in front of a broad chest. His hair was dark and shaggy, and a large scar slashed across his cheek. Both just served to accentuate his darkening scowl.
'Get up', the man said. 'This ship doesn't carry passengers.'
His storm blue eyes wandered to the sparsely clothed man still slumbering peacefully on the table - it was a table, Dion realized, a large table taking up most of the space in a room that was otherwise filled with chests and crates and rolls of parchment being stacked in haphazard piles. The man with the scar on his face shook his head in exasperation and then turned towards the door he had apparently come through.
'Hurry up.'
Dion heaved himself up and slid off the table, coming to stand on unsteady legs. He had to try and find his balance for a moment before he felt confident enough to let go of the wooden edge long enough to stuff his cock back into his trousers. His shirt was beyond hope, but he shoved it into his waistband and hoped he would not end up in any kind of decent company soon.
The floor was still swaying under his feet and suddenly his pounding head caught up to what the man with the scar had said.
This ship doesn't carry passengers.
This ship.
A ship?
With a hand gliding along the wooden planks of the wall for support, Dion staggered out of the room and down the narrow corridor the stranger had disappeared through. He felt a little bad to leave behind the man on the table, but his unknown companion did not seem to have any aspirations to wakefulness, and Dion urgently had to figure out where he had ended up and why.
He climbed a short flight of stairs that groaned worryingly under his weight, and then he was outside. Outside, where a stiff breeze tore at his hair and waves sloshed against the bow of the ship that was plowing through the vast ocean at staggering speed. People were hurrying to and fro on deck, in the shadow of full sails that were cracking under the onslaught of the wind. They were red, like a splash of freshly spilled blood in the cloudless sky.
'Welcome to the Phoenixflare', a gruff voice said next to Dion. He turned around in a daze, hastily catching the bucket and brush that were being shoved into his arms.
'What...'
'I told you', the stranger with the scar said impatiently. 'This ship doesn't carry passengers.' He gestured at a water barrel in a less busy corner of the deck. 'Clean up, and get to work.'
Dion's head was still swimming, and so he could not think of any better course than to obey.
He had long since rid himself of any pride or dignity that had come so naturally to him for most of his life; had shed them once a single spark of magic awakening within him had turned him from a prince into a slave, an abomination in the eyes of everyone who mattered. Getting on his knees now and scrubbing the worn planks of the ship's deck was not much different than any other menial task he had performed these last weeks and months in order to stay hidden and ignored, to stay alive. And so he scrubbed as he was being directed , trying to stay out of the way as best he could. Keeping his head low while pondering this new situation and the many questions it posed.
He was on a ship, but to where? He could not see any flags or uniforms or any other indication of where these people's loyalties might lie. But... glancing at the bustling activity on deck, he could make out at least two sailors who bore slave brands. Who moved as the others moved, heads held high, laughing and joking. Strange.
And then there was the man he had woken up next to. The memory brought a blush to his cheeks - that beautiful face, angelic in sleep, and the utterly debauched sight of that naked body. When he tried to remember what had happened last night, there was a faint echo of soft lips burning on his skin, of tight heat, heavenly around his cock, the slick slide of bodies.
He bit his lip and tried to breathe through the arousal squirming in his stomach at the thought. There were more important things to think about, things like who that person was, how they had both ended up on this ship, and - most importantly - what Dion had told him.
He was still pondering when a voice made him perk up. A sliver of conversation, drifting by on the wind - a snappy reply to something inaudible.
'Aye aye, Captain!'
Dion craned his head to find the origin of the voice. It was good to know who was in charge - it was vital. Power was an intricate dance, and now that he was at the bottom of the food chain, knowing the hacking order of those above was no longer just a matter of saving face at a state dinner or having an advantage during negotiations.
There, on the quarterdeck... a tall figure, willowy but holding himself with the easy confidence of authority. Blond hair was spilling out from under the tricorne he was wearing on his head, blond hair shimmering red in the sun.
With a slack jaw, Dion watched the man step down onto the main deck. Eyes the colour of the sea itself roamed over the working men and then... settled on him. A grin spread on the man's face and he gave Dion a mischievous wink. He was still wearing the black shirt, and it still exposed most of his chest as if modesty were only a vague suggestion easily discarded. The trousers that clung tightly to long legs were just as black, the scrap of red fabric loosely slung around narrow hips the only splash of colour. It dramatically accentuated the man's swagger as he came closer, and closer. The heels of his boots rang on the deck like a drum counting down to Dion's inevitable doom.
He came to a halt right on the spot Dion had last scrubbed, looking down with his deep blue gaze. The angle of it conjured a different image, of the same man with his head thrown back in bliss, stroking his flushed cock. Dion hastily pressed his thighs together when he felt himself twitch with interest at the memory.
'How was your night, Your Highness?', the man asked cheerfully.
Dion froze. Had he really...
The man laughed.
'I've heard drunkards call themselves all manner of things, but a prince was a first. Though I have to say...' He leaned down, lips almost brushing Dion's ear and that was another memory, of grinding hips and a body pressed against his and anticipation coiling tightly in his stomach. '...your assets are certainly worthy of one. I'd love to see what else you can do with them some time.'
'I... uhm...'
The man patted him on the shoulder and turned to leave, and for a moment Dion was thoroughly distracted by the black-clad ass mere inches from his face. Those trousers really left nothing to the imagination. And he remembered what that ass had felt like speared on his cock, even if he remembered little else; the soft swell of those buttocks grinding down against his thighs while he thrust up, feeling velvet walls clench around him...
He cleared his throat.
'A question... Sir?'
The man snorted, but he still seemed strangely cheerful despite the clear admonishment. Dion had rarely met someone with such an easy smile, and he could not stop himself from staring at it. It was amused but not malicious, and the way the perfect arch of those lips curled upwards, their pink skin glossy like a courtesans -
'It's Joshua', the man said. His grin turned sly. 'Unless of course you prefer Sir - though that might be something best discussed in private, hm?'
Dion's jaw moved up and down helplessly, but he could not think of an adequate response. Not while a substantial amount of his blood was rushing south and he had to squirm uncomfortably to keep his cock from straining against the fabric of his trousers. He took a deep breath and forced himself to remember the question he had meant to ask.
'If I might ask - where are we going?'
'Ah. I apologize for the rash departure, but we've got an appointment to keep. A ship is on its way from Ran'dellah, begging to be relieved of the goods it carries. And I'd very much like to do the honours.'
Dion stared up at him while turning over the words in his head. He suspected that his mental faculties had not entirely recovered yet from what he had put them through last night, but... The lack of uniforms, a dingy tavern being the last thing he remembered clearly before waking up here....
'You are pirates', he said dumbly.
Joshua laughed again, this time a full-throated laugh that drew a few curious eyes their way.
'Your skills of deduction are astounding.' He shook his head with a cackle, then waved at one of the sailors close by. 'Wade, show Dion here the ropes. Those arms are wasted scrubbing the deck.'
Dion bit back a groan. Had he really given a pirate captain he had met in an unsavoury tavern his real name? This - all of this - was a disaster. He could count himself lucky that he had not woken up in a cell, or with a knife in his throat. And now he was trapped on a ship, with no choice but to play along until the next time they entered port.
The young sailor that had answered his captain's call gave a sloppy salute. Turning to Dion, Joshua added: 'I expect you to make yourself useful. If you have questions, find me in my cabin. Or if you want to revisit last night's discussion. It was fascinating.'
And then he stalked away, leaving Dion with his mouth agape and mind frantically trying to work out how in Greagor's good name he had gotten himself into this mess.
********
Satisfied, Joshua surveyed the destruction his nightly tumble had left in the map room. Most of the papers that had been spread on the table were unusable now, crumpled and torn or stained with various fluids. The bottle of rum had fallen to the floor at some point during the night, spreading its remaining contents all across the floorboards. When Joshua bend down to pick it up, he felt a pleasant ache in his backside.
It had been a good night.
'You don't usually look so happy about ruined paper', Clive piped up behind him. He was standing with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised almost all the way to his hairline. 'You also don't usually take your conquests back to the ship.'
'Usually, my conquests are a lot more boring.' Joshua turned around with a grin. 'But he's not just a quick fuck - an excellent fuck, I might add -' Clive made an unimpressed uh-huh noise '- he's also the end of my very long search.'
He whirled around, excitement adding spring to his step as he rounded the table and pulled out the dagger that was stuck to the wood. With the blade's tip he traced the coastline of Storm that was barely visible on one of the ruined maps.
'So let's catch that trade ship, and then we set course to Ash.'
'Wait, what?'
Joshua twirled the dagger in his hand and then rammed it straight through the centre of the drawing that lay on top of the other papers, messy strokes forming a mass of tentacles that sprawled across the page.
'Odin's monster, Clive. You said it yourself. Once we find a light bearer, we can take it on.'
And it had been such a long search. Bearers were rare, bearers he could reach without risking a trip to the gallows even more so, and light bearers...
'What!? No. No, I said that you would need a light bearer to even get close to that thing.' Clive dragged a hand through his hair, mussing up the unruly strands even more. 'Might I remind you of the disaster with the sirens? The giant whale? The sea serpent? Every time we went after one of your legendary monsters...'
'And you loved fighting them every time. Don't act like you didn't mount those trophies on your cabin wall.'
'This is different.' Clive gave him a stern look. 'You are not going after the most infamous and deadly creature to ever curse this sea with its existence. No matter how many light bearers you find.'
And then he turned around and marched down the corridor, leaving Joshua alone in the map room.
Joshua traced one of the smudged tentacles on the paper in front of him with a reverent touch. Moments later, he faintly heard Clive's voice shouting orders up on deck, hasty footsteps answering. He wondered if one of those footsteps belonged to Dion. His light. His ticket into the depths of Odin's hoard itself.
'We'll see', he mumbled.