Pleasant Conversations with a Pair of Captives

Denlo, with the help of Alessari and Sister Hilan, brings the unconscious prisoners into the belowdecks. Settling the pair on beds, Den perches across from them. He doesn’t like wearing the masked helmet on the ship, it gets a bit warm and sweaty wearing that much leather, but he does not want them to see him as a person. He wants them to understand, when they wake up, that he is merely another force of nature.

He notices the pair are still milling about. “I have this. Help with the rescue efforts,” Den says. After all, he was the one who struck them both down on the battlefield. He should be the one greeting them as they awaken. And the rescue efforts could be greatly hurried along with their help. Especially if those efforts would otherwise be less than friendly.

Sari nods, understanding instantly his thought process, and heads up to the deck of the ship. The monastic sister looks at her masked crewmate one last time and asks, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

A valid question, Den muses with a smile behind his dark mask. “No,” he replies, “But I can manage.” The pious woman lingers for a moment longer, before she too heads up. Leaving the massive man alone with two unconscious people who are both bound, an elf in chains, a dwarf in rope.

He perches, squatting on a wooden box, unmoving and staring at the pair. Waiting. Wondering if they are planning on trying anything. After a few more minutes, he hears some calls up on deck. He watches Hilan and the one armed man hurry down the stairs and begin to row us out from the cave, and the ship begins to move. But Den remains. It is only a matter of time before the pair reawakens. And when they do, he wants to be there. To be sure they do not scheme. To figure out if that’s even in their nature. After a few more minutes, light begins to shine through the windows of the quarters, and he hears the pair who went below to row make their way back up to the deck to help with things above. And they begin to move. But not the hulking Elfi’ika, who remains motionless on the box, even as the waves rock the boat. Not motionless like a statue, rolling with the waves, but rather like a hammock, always in the same orientation relative to outside, in spite of the ship’s own movements.

It’s after the first time he feels the boat turning that Den sees the telltale signs of awakening in the dwarf mage, still bound in rope. The mage Raglissim tries to play it off as sleep, but Den merely stares silently. Wherever this dwarf’s specialties may lie, lying itself is clearly not one of them. Den waits, and soon enough, the mage gives up. He moves to sit, and looks around. “Where are we?” he asks, mostly to his unconscious friend and very much not to the terrifying specter looming over him.

That terrifying specter chooses to answer anyway. “On the Ekzokia,” Denlo explains, “Captain Felazo v’Icria has decided to rescue as many of you as reasonable, prior to our return to Hetha.”

Raglissim looks confused. “Why would he do that?”

Den smirks behind his mask. Asking the right questions to get him out of those ropes, though whether he is doing so in earnest or out of cleverness, Den still isn’t sure. “Honor of his family,” Den replies to the best of his understanding. “Something about Caravan law, too.”

The mage shakes his head. “Caravan law only applies to caravan members, not representatives like me.”

“And?” Den presses.

Raglissim nods, “But I guess if your captain is so concerned about honor, he’d have to attempt to save people. Bringing us back would mean he doesn’t have to fight that monster in a rescue attempt.”

Den nods. The prisoner in chains is waking up. He needs her to understand how hopeless a mutiny would be. “Your assassin Azugari and warrior Zalenno are both aiding the captain in determining where survivors are likely to have resurfaced,” Den explains, “But neither of them seem particularly convincing. The woman can’t be trusted, she tried to sacrifice herself to save your former captain. So, can I trust you to help convince your crewmates to come aboard without a fight?”

“Does that mean you’ll untie me?” the mage asks.

“Not your hands, but otherwise,” Den replies.

Raglissim pauses. He thinks about something for a moment, then he speaks carefully. “Like you, I am not myself bound by Caravan law. But that also means your captain does not need to save me. I need your word that all us non-members of the Caravan va Cotropla will be brought safely to Hetha as well.”

Denlo pauses. He keeps his body still, hoping the mask and the stillness hides his confusion. “Why me?” he asks the mage.

The dwarf gestures to Denlo’s side. To the blade hanging there in its makeshift frog. “Because that tells me you have the authority to overrule your so-called captain,” he states. And Denlo realizes, between his own size, the mage’s knowledge, and Denlo keeping his face masked, Raglissim believes Den to be a orkish raid-leader in exile, or one trying to reclaim something lost. Something to be feared and respected in equal measure, to these people evidently.

Den nods. “I give you my word, so long as you do not fight us, you will be brought to Hetha. From there, I make no promises,” he states.

Raglissim nods. “Then that will have to do. I will get them to surrender themselves, though I do not know about the members. Many of those may think the risk of Lisato deciding to be wrathful is worth a confrontation.”

“You will not be needed in such an instance,” Den confirms for the dwarf, as he moves over to cut the ropes. “Just as Azugari and Zelenno were not needed to subdue your group.”

He cut all the ropes, save the one binding his hands together. That alone should make casting any spells difficult, and impossible to do without someone on deck noticing. “You head up top,” he states. standing a few feet over the mage, “And be careful. If there is a next time between us, Ren might be delayed in reaching you.” The massive murderer can see a shiver run down the demon summoner’s back as he rushes up to the deck.

Beside him, as though waiting for the dwarf to leave, the elf prisoner asks, “You are no raid leader, why let him believe the lie?”

“Why let him believe you were not asleep?” Den replies to the woman’s question with one of his own.

“I needed to see where his loyalties lied,” Lyssirzy answered frankly.

Den shrugs. “It lies where most lie, with one’s own skin.” Then, taking a breath, he answers her question. “And it helps him trust that I will keep my word. Or, more precisely, that I can.”

“Can you?” the woman asks. Denlo, turning his masked face to stare into her soul, replies with a simple silence. The silence hangs for a bit too long to be comfortable. Eventually, she relents, “Fair enough.”

Den cocks his head to one side and asks, “How did you know I’m not a raid-leader of some kind?”

“Besides us being alive?” she half-jokes, “Your accent is an odd mixture of Northern Elf and Dwarfish, meaning you’re likely from one of the twin cities of the UC. Either Ysaultia-Olgorin or Tiarta-Urgrin. If I had to bet, you found the sword there, so Ysaultia-Olgorin is more likely, as it lies heartward in the United Cities.”

Den nods, taking off his mask, “And what of you? Why are you so loyal that you’re willing to die for a man who ran without a moment’s hesitation.”

“You weren’t paying attention,” Lyssirzy corrects the massive man, “He hesitated. And he knows when you need to regroup.”

“Not answering my question.”

“Why do you follow this failed bookkeeper of the Caravan v’Icria?” the prisoner counters.

Denlo takes a moment to seriously consider the question. After all, the last time they both had questions, she politely answered first. This time, he suspects she will be awaiting his own answer. After a moment, he says, “I have little better to do. And there is something I am starting to believe might be important.”

“And you believe following Felazo will lead you to that?”

Denlo smirks. “Not exactly. But indirectly, yes. Your turn.” The boat stops. Seems the crew above are about to bring in some new crewmates.

“He saved my life more times than I can count. Only fair I try to do the same,” she answers frankly.

“Worry not,” Den says as he puts his masked helmet back on and moves away from the prisoner, “You will make it through this. And, your caravan and this archipelago permitting, may even see your captain once more.”

She shakes her head at the massive man. “Don’t worry about that,” she states, “I will. And so will you.” and she lets out a chuckle. “Nothing will stop that.”

Denlo seats himself on a box and replies, “You may not like the results of that eventuality.”

“We will see,” she replies with a certainty which makes Denlo question if they are missing something. After all, they captured her, and were bringing them all to stand trial with their less illegitimate peers. If Zeltaro tried to strike at them while they were on the Ekzokia, the tight quarters might neutralize Sari a bit, but the Sister and himself would only be more effective, and Felazo would have all of his magical nonsense locked away in his quarters. Even if everyone rejoined their captain, it would be tough, but they still probably would prevail. Assuming from each of the three ships, we rescue four, thirteen people who are already injured and weakened would not think they could win. And that means those not loyal would not fight. And after they delivered the prisoners and guests to the caravan, even if only slaps on the wrist, they would still be leaving Zeltaro alone to regather a group of pirates powerful enough to deal with the Ekzokia, and then find one ship in the whole Sea. All without the motivation of wealth in the hunt, nor the loyalty of his new crew to keep them from mutinying.

Unless, he realized, the two arms of the Caravan were not as adversarial as Felazo believed. If Zeltaro were less a rogue pirate and more a quiet privateer for the legitimate arm, then they could be delivering the crew right back to him, the long way round.

“You know you will not be punished,” he says aloud, “That is why the others were fine with being captured.” The lack of reaction from the pirate woman tells him that his feeling is right. “Just know and understand this. We are not your enemy if you do not make it so. This started when your man attacked us at sea. It continued when your people attacked us on the isle here, then you tried to ambush us. When you meet back up with Zeltaro tell him that if he attacks us again, I will not waste time fighting the rest of you. I will simply cut off the head of the snake.”

“And what of your crew?” she posits.

“They are far too good at avoiding dying for me to have to worry. I’m sure you would normally say the same about your captain, except you saw me. So tell him, and say we are not seeking any revenge or payback.”

“Can you speak for all your crew?” the first mate questions.

Behind his mask Denlo smiles. He won the argument. “Why would we be,” he replies, “We’ve won every fight we’ve had with you guys, and made money in the process. Even Felazo gets to use this as an opportunity to curry more favor with his people, so he can avoid exile for another month or two. We don’t want to fight you, you just keep coming at us.”

Lyssirzy sighs. “I will try. But Zeltaro does not always take my advice when his pride is on the line.”