NOVEL WEB Book 2 prologue: In Transit
Erastus 20,
Ricarlo jolted to full wakefulness as he felt the ship lurch beneath him, as he did every morning. He usually didn’t feel the ship moving anymore, but he still couldn’t quite convince his sleeping mind that the floor moving was nothing to be concerned about. The sailor knew from long experience that he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep this morning, based on the dim sunlight creeping into his cell window. He sat up, stretched, and felt around the room until he found a vial of preserved fire beetle ichor in his dresser drawer.
The small bottle glowed like a dying coal, casting the room in a dull red light that made it easier to dress himself. On the one hand, Ricarlo wasn’t likely to see anyone this day, as he hadn’t for two weeks. On the other hand, it was far easier to get into character as Master Scourge when he was properly dressed. Master Scourge was a salty sea dog, uncowed by his present circumstances. The character had been intended to help ease the transition into naval life, but Ricarlo was already wondering if this has all been one big mistake.
As the ersatz former officer touched up his stained black nails, he fought to maintain his persona. Did Scourge actually do his own nails? What would Ricarlo say if someone asked Scourge about his nail care routine? It was something of a hole in the character. He put quite a lot of time and effort into his image, but Scourge probably wouldn’t. He was a bloody minded, brutal son of a bitch and everyone knew it. He didn’t need to craft a look; he just fell into it naturally. As it turned out, being a pirate was slightly more complex than adopting the right scowl.
For the ten thousandth time since being confined to his quarters, Ricarlo mulled over events, trying to figure out how he might have done things differently. Should he have refused to get involved with Sebastien? Legally, yes, but getting paid by a student to do odd jobs was basically tradition among the wait staff. The fact that it escalated to roughing people up had happened almost without him noticing; he might have failed as an armiger, but he could still fight better than most.
Should he have stayed in Cheliax instead of running off to pirate land? Certainly, but without Sebastien he would have needed to accept a substantial step down in quality of life. He’d never been good at saving money.
Should he have just come on as Plugg’s valet instead of pretending to be some tough guy? Probably, but it never would have passed muster with a hardass like Harrigan. He’d have been thrown in among the swabs and worked to the bone. He could fight, and he could act, and that was enough to sign on as an officer. Better pay, too.
Should he have talked Sebastien down when he decided he wanted to murder that Magpie fellow over a stolen artifact? Of course, but it wasn’t easy to talk down a narcissist when he was angry. A contraband idol of Vishgurv was basically irreplaceable this far south, and Sebastien didn’t think the Lady was likely to replace it. Ricarlo couldn’t even convince him to let it go after the first failure.
Should he have used a club instead of a goddamn ax for a training exercise? By the Godclaw, yes. He was thousands of gold into the hole and that lovely cleric had convinced every good looking girl on the ship to hate him. Thanks to Ricarlo’s Scourge persona and Sebastien’s tomfoolery, no one would ever believe that he’d accidentally killed a woman who strutted around like she was invulnerable.
Well, all of them hated him except Caulky. He knew better than to approach her with any intent, despite that. Sebastien had made it abundantly clear that she was off limits. Never mind that if she’d been in a relationship with a respectful young gentleman she’d never have gotten involved with that elven rake.
If he’d been allowed to pursue her, with only the purest of intentions of course, perhaps tensions wouldn’t have been inflamed. Perhaps Sebastien and Emrys could have agreed to disagree about management styles. Perhaps Caulky’s painfully naive plan to let the boy and his supporters off at the next port would have actually happened without incident.
Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. It was all pointless conjecture at this point. The lad had led a mutiny, confined Sebastien’s most visible supporters to their cabins, and promised to toss them all off the ship somewhere reasonably safe. It was better than nothing, so Ricarlo hoped that everything would calm down. Sebastien would come away with a bloody nose, maybe learn a bit of humility, and someday they could all laugh about it.
Ricarlo sighed. That wasn’t terribly likely to happen. At best, Sebastien would write the whole thing off and actively avoid crossing paths with the dark elf in future. That would be for the best. Whatever flaws he may have, Emrys was something of a tactical genius and a powerful summoner. He’d be a terrible person to seek a quarrel with.
••••••••••
“No, I’m not joking. For the good of the crew, you’re going to need to have sex with 46 women in one day.”
The woman speaking glared at me with milky white eyes that contrasted with her dusky brown skin and dark hair. She was looking fairly sharp, in a ruffled white shirt and leather corset, with her hair tied back with a yellow bandanna. She’d started dressing the same each day, adopting the outfit as a kind of self-imposed uniform.
A few weeks prior, shortly before appointing her my first mate, I’d explained the secret of my success to Syl Lonegan. Ever since, she’d been pushing me to optimize for the good of our organization. If I could gain power through the performance of strange tasks, she thought I should go out of my way to do so. It didn’t matter if she was my lover. She was already sharing me with two other women, and would happily invite 46 more into my bed for an advantage.
“Isn’t that a bit excessive?” I groaned.
“No. It’s conservative, actually.” Syl continued mercilessly, “I’d really prefer 96, but that presents some serious logistical concerns. I don’t doubt your prowess, but if we need to cram them all into one day you may have difficulty satisfying one woman every fifteen minutes for a full 24 hour period. We could try, however, if you’re willing to attempt it.”
I flopped back onto my bed. The captain’s cabin was damn comfortable after a month sleeping in hammocks or on the floor, and thanks to regular company I’d even managed to keep it fairly tidy.
“And you wonder why I don’t want to tell anyone else about this.” I groaned. “Can you imagine if Sandara heard you saying something like that?”
“I can.” Syl answered with a shrug. “I understand her magic can cleanse or ward off fatigue, so we might need to involve her regardless.”
“Not a priority.” I said, shutting her down. “Repairs and regulations first, paying debts second, steady income third, team satisfaction fourth. We can look into expensive… eh… ‘rituals’ to empower me later.”
Not to mention I’m still not sure how to talk to her about the really weird part. How the hell do I tell someone that I’m not even from this world, but my body is? That I’m apparently married, and my wife will probably come looking for me eventually? I need to, but it’s awkward as hell.
“Alright. Fine by me.” Syl said with a shrug. “But if you’re committing to that, keep it in your pants.”
“Oh? You sure?” I asked. “I didn’t get the impression you wanted that last night.”
As we talked, I looked again at the mission she was referring to.
Layer of a Thousand Women
Sleep with 1/2/5/10/20/50/100/200/500/1000 different sexual partners
Perk associated with sex or romance at each breakpoint
Current Status: 4 (Syl, Caulky, Sosima, Sandara)
We’d learned through another mission, similar to this one but focused on killing sentient enemies instead of banging them, that passing multiple breakpoints would earn stronger perks. As far as Syl was concerned, the possibility of managing that again was worth the effort. Three breakpoints had earned me the ability to control the weather. Who knew what five might manage?
“You’re doing it again.” Syl noted, “try to look at something when you are reading. Then at least you seem like you’re studying something.”
“Sorry, sorry.” I said. “Look, I don’t think we are going to prioritize this. I’ll keep it in mind, but honestly the last pack of missions I got was a bit intense. How many people did we lose?”
“Over thirty.” Syl admitted, “but you don’t know that was because of your missions. They might have predicted the events, rather than causing them.”
“If so, then I’ll get missions the next time I stumble into something over my head.” I pointed out. “Until then, I’d rather relax and get things set up with the business side of things rather than burn all my liquid assets hiring nearly a hundred women to form a conga line down the hall.”
“Conga line? Never mind, I understand what you mean. I’ll drop it.” Syl said, meaning that she’d give me at least a day before bringing it up again. “We should be arriving today, no?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “By the gods, getting her fixed up and restocked is going to be expensive.”
“You’re the one who wanted to be a captain,” Syl said, reaching out one hand to help me up, “regretting it already?”
“Hell no.” I said, my face splitting into a grin. “Do you know how rare it is for a guy my age to own his own home without inheriting it?”