Noble Arcana

The sea holds many dangers. Pirates, Orcs, Mer, storms, monsters. The Drakthiss navy faces them all every day with strength and dignity.

Admiral Strixen

Solomon arrived at the captain’s cabin where the officers were all seated for dinner. Captain Trask was seated at the head, with the first through third officers, the navigator, and the master steward. There was also a young and nervous looking sailor among them as well. Some ships had a tradition of inviting a regular crewman to dine with the officers for good luck; it seemed that the Arabella was one such ship.

There was some light conversation being made over wine that his arrival had interrupted. The officers stood and bowed to him while Trask himself gave him a respectful nod as he sat in the seat of honor across from him. A cook appeared and poured Solomon a glass of red wine.

“Thank you for joining us,” said the captain stiffly.

“Thank you for having me,” replied Solomon, taking a sip of the wine as he settled in. He looked at the other men around him.

“I’m sorry, aside from the Captain and Third Officer I’m afraid I haven’t had the privilege of meeting the rest of you.” He had recognized their ranks by their dress and decoration of their uniform, but he had not learned their names.

“First officer Conners,” said a dark skinned man with flecks of gold in his eyes and curly hair just starting to go gray.

“Second officer Lemuel,” said a man with a shaved head and skin red from the sun.

“Master Steward Nock,” said a bespectacled man with short blonde hair and large clusters of freckles across his cheeks.

Realizing it was his turn to speak, the short tan navigator quickly gulped the wine he had in his mouth. “Japol,” he coughed out.

“I’m ah, Jim. Just a sailor.”

Solomon smiled at the young man, only a few years his junior. “Just a sailor makes you more qualified to be here than I am.”

Jim was unsure of how to respond to that and so simply nodded awkwardly.

“So, how are you finding the voyage so far?” asked Conners.

“Terrible, but that’s no fault of yours.”

There were some light chuckles around the table.

“We’re all glad that you’ve recovered. We certainly didn’t want to explain you being near death when we arrived in Manacht.”

“I’ve never been on a ship like this before. Some small boats on rivers and lakes, but apparently my body wasn’t prepared for the sea.”

“You may not believe it, but yours isn’t the worst case I’ve seen,” said Lemuel, the second officer.

“Oh?”

He nodded. “I was once on a ship transporting one of the Grydens, can’t remember which. Not only was he ill for the entire journey, he was also red as a firedrake by the time we arrived. He probably spent less than a half hour a day on deck.”

Solomon chuckled at that. The Grydens were white haired, notoriously fair, and often sickly. He had distinct memories of his brothers trying to convince him that he was an adopted Gryden bastard based on two of those three traits.

“Well, I’m just glad I was able to stay out of your way. Alanse tells me that we’re making good time?”

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“Excellent time,” offered Japol. “Since just a few days ago the ship has seemed to sail as smoothly as she ever has.

“Wonderful,” said Solomon, placing his wine glass down as he heard the sounds of food entering the cabin.

The meal was primarily made up of fresh fish that had been lightly seasoned and spritzed with lemons for additional flavor. Aside from that there was pickled cabbage, lobster, and after the meal a desert of duff filled with raisins that Solomon found paired particularly well with the wine.

“Have you encountered orcs before?” he asked as he washed down his last bite of duff. “I’ve only ever seen one in a zoo show in Brevantiss. He seemed a withered thing though.” He distinctly remembered feeling sick to his stomach at the sight of him as well as the people throwing peanuts into the cage in which they held him. He’d felt even sicker when his brothers bullied him into throwing some as well.

“No encounters on the Arabella, but when I served on the Dosia we were boarded by them once,” said Lemuel, wiping his face with a napkin. “They were fearsome creatures. We only managed to drive them away with superior numbers. Lost a lot of good men.”

“They’re good sailors,” said the Captain. He’d been quiet and focused on his meal, seemingly content to let his officers keep Solomon entertained. “You never encounter their ships alone. They man multiple small ships that all coordinate with one another. Their goal is always boarding, and every time they take a galleon it guarantees them the services of elven mercenaries for months to come.” He idly touched the small scars on his face. “They favor the blunderbuss over the rifle. I’ve seen more than one man shredded by one.” He turned his attention to Solomon. “They possess a savage cunning and strength, but they know nothing of order and tactics.”

Solomon sipped his wine. From what he’d read of the orcish holdings and their conflicts with Drakthiss they seemed quite orderly, at least on a macro level. Still, it didn’t seem prudent to bring that up to his hosts.

“You have little to worry about on this route,” said Japol. “It is well patrolled.”

Solomon nodded, “I’m sure I’d have little to worry about anyway with a ship so well manned and equipped.”

After a bit more polite smalltalk, Solomon made his way back to his cabin. He had perhaps overindulged in the food as his stomach was still not fully recovered, but he felt that the problem would resolve itself as he slept.

He undressed and lay in the hammock, carefully balancing Crimson Command on his chest before he let the gentle rocking of the waves pull him into sleep.

…

Solomon felt himself awoken gently and heard a whisper in his ear.

“You’re in danger,” said Aristopheles, his purple eyes looking toward the porthole at the far end of the cabin to the right of the hammock.

Solomon remained still, opening one eye looking toward the porthole without shifting his head. He could see that the porthole was open and a dark shape was approaching him. It was humanoid, but in the dark he couldn’t make out exactly what it was.

It must’ve noticed that his eye was open because it swiftly moved toward him.

Rather than cast a spell he instead found himself drawing Crimson Command, catching a coral club as it descended toward his skull.

The hammock rocked violently from the impact and he was thrown from it, but somehow he managed to roll and bring himself back up to his feet, facing the creature with his red blade held firmly in both hands.

With both of his eyes now open he could see the fins on the creature’s arms, the sharp glistening teeth, and black eyes. It was one of the mer.

It lunged at him and instead of retreating he found himself stepping into the blow, getting under the creature’s guard and slashing his blade upward. Had he been wielding it with just one hand he wouldn’t have been able to cut through the creature’s thick scales, but with the force of its lunge as well as his own momentum he was able to cut a deep gash through its stomach and chest. Its organs spilled out in front of it as it collapsed onto the ground.

He carefully flicked the sword downward, throwing off the blue blood that gathered on the blade with a motion that looked as if he’d practiced it a thousand times. He looked at the blade for just a moment, in awe of how the act of holding it had turned him from hopeless with a sword to masterful.

Realizing that he might not be the only one being attacked, he utilized another of its abilities, sending his will through it as he yelled.

“We’re under attack! Mer are onboard!”

The sword projected his voice, making it loud enough to carry across the entire ship. In moments he heard struggling and screams across the ship, mixed with the hissing of the merfolk.

Edmure burst into the room with a long dagger in his hand, quickly taking stock of Solomon and the dead merman on the ground. He turned to point at the porthole.

“Another is coming!”

Solomon turned to face another of the mer, this one wielding a spear that seemed to have been carved from coral.

He flourished the sword, stepping back to place himself next to Edmure as he pointed it at the monster, holding it perfectly in his hands. It was going to be very difficult for him to give it up to Vaughn once he arrived in Manacht.