Chapter 8: First Impressions

BWOOOVVV!

The immense boom of the thundering blast shuttled off towards the seas. A shockwave once again burst from the counter force, however Mikey managed to keep on his feet this time around. Sliding back, his toes trying their best to dig into the floor, two ropes extended out to each of his wrists, strengthening his hold.

Gisla, having experienced the shockwave before, had already sprinted off to hide behind the outer wall of the captain’s quarters. With her back to the wall, she also barely kept on her feet.

Unlike the previous cataclysmic projectile that was sent off by Gisla, Mikey’s attack moved into a steep upwards curve, now shooting towards the sky.

‘The family back home would love this,’ Mikey grinned in awe as he watched the projectile fly. It carried enough force to reach the clouds, creating a small clearing around it as it passed through.

It continued until it was merely a speck in the sky, and then it detonated. A flash of perplexing light fulminated across the blue above. Glittering sparkles shot in every direction creating a pseudo starry sky.

Moments later, a whispering “poof” passed by Mikey’s face in a light breeze.

“You've my gratitude for not trying to sink me yet again," Lady said as she materialised beside him, the ropes unravelling from his wrists.

Mikey turned to face Gisla, who was peeking from behind her cover.

"This is what you were hoping for right? Confirmation that I can do what I said," Mikey nodded whilst he turned to look out over the water briefly. "So let's get back to work. You show me what I'm missing, I show you a good time studying."

Gisla returned from behind the cover, brushing off her nightgown and marching towards Mikey.

"And you'll leave my father alone?" she asked, rather irritated by the sudden change in power.

"Sure sure sure, we'll even drop him off in San Lenard," Mikey gestured for her to calm down. "Shit, I'll even let you call me puppy. How about that, eh?"

"Yeah," Gisla chuffed briefly, though turned away to keep Mikey from noticing. She then continued on her way to the captain's quarters. "Yeah alright then."

During the rest of the trip, Mikey found himself enjoying the entire main deck in peace for once. The sun was up, but there existed no sign of chaos or danger nearby.

This was not so true for the floor below.

Mikey felt inclined to work lazy Lumpy right to the bone hidden under his rum infested fat. Lumpy was given the entire reserve of the Blackjack's alcohol - but was, under no circumstances, allowed to drink while the sun was in view.

Mikey and Gisla had agreed that she should prepare spells from her texts in advance. Though Mikey certainly had talent, he wasn't arrogant enough to test them on high traffic waters. They had, after all, arrived.

In the near distance, white sails crossed paths with one another as they weaved about a crowded harbour.

San Lenard. It was a small island town used as the checkpoint to connect the Des Maron archipelago with the main continent. All walks of life passed through here. Merchants, mercenaries and mages were a majority through its paved streets, but there were just as many oddballs found within the masses as well.

“Where do you keep all the coin, princess?” Mikey asked as he barged into the captain’s quarters without regard, though he winked at Gisla as they met eyes. “I’m going to need that ten thousand now yeah?”

“Yeah right, it’s up yours,” Gisla replied, sighing at the interruption.

“My what? Oh, I see what you did there. Very funny,” Mikey laughed out with painful sarcasm. “But I was just trying to be polite. Lady Blackjack, did you have any clue as to where the Tornstars keep their coin?”

“Of course Captain Drewitt,” Lady materialised beside Mikey on cue as a hole in the floor of the room tore open. A huge chest was dragged up into the room by ropes through the hole, plonked before Mikey’s very feet.

“Ah, much appreciated Lady Blackjack,” he said with a coy tone, his gaze teasing Gisla as he smirked at her - though Gisla rolled her eyes and scoffed in response.

Mikey moved to the chest and cracked the already rusted lock open with a hammer Lady retrieved for him.

As he flipped the lid, the very definition of wealth poured over his boots. Like a flowing river, coins and gems clinked in celebration of their release from the chest.

"How in the fuck did you fit all of this in there?" Mikey cackled in disbelief, running his fingers through the riches.

"I don't handle the money Mikey, I don't care for it," Gisla said, picking up a quill and going on to continue studying her texts.

"Of course not, father fetches whatever the princess calls for, yes?" He'd laugh, filling a small satchel with a variety of coins and gems before slinging it over his shoulder.

"Anyway, enjoy your alone time!"

Mikey made his exit and closed the door, whilst Lady not only locked, but barricaded it behind him.

"You'll look after the ship while I'm gone won't you Lady?" Mikey asked, moving to the railing with a deep inhale of the sea breeze. In a few moments, the Blackjack would be docking at port.

"Of course Captain Drewitt, but it seems you have company," she replied, turning behind Mikey as great, thundering steps approached from behind.

"Jus'a nigh' 'ey cap'in? Jus'a one measl' nigh'? A bellyah whisk' ta' ease ye' pain?" Lumpy pleaded whilst his walk was miraculously as straight as, perhaps, ever.

"One night? I'd have offered three, but sure," Mikey nodded as he looked to the docks - the ship now berthing rather expertly with Lady's perception. Mikey then flipped Lumpy five coins, each of them gold. "You'll not get anymore than that. Lady, don't let Lumpy back on the ship until tomorrow morning."

The dockmasters were flabbergasted by how empty the Blackjack was. With the complete absence of a visible crew, save for Mikey and Lumpy, the Blackjack was quite literally a ghost ship - though they'd no clue to what extent. Once Mikey generously dealt with the charges and fees of docking his ship, he turned his attention to the streets.

A deep inhale caught wind of an amalgamation of food delicacies, some of which had never graced Mikey's nose before. Guided down the street, people most definitely seemed more curious in appearance than Zeal Mar Keistar.

"What in the world are they wearing?" Mikey asked, chuckling to himself as he pointed out a fluorescent pink robe across the street. Mikey turned to Lumpy for his reaction, but the old lard seemed to have already run off to a bar somewhere. He shrugged it off, but worried in the back of his mind whether he'd have to clean up Lumpy's mess in the morning.

Strolling around, Mikey immersed himself in the adventurer's life. As a young man, Mikey was fairly lean, but had begun to fill out. If not for being on the shorter side, more women might actually bat an eye at him.

His first location of interest was a local inn. Judging by the cleanliness of the ground outside, Lumpy probably hadn't raided its barrels quite yet.

The inn was named the 'Raging Boar', lush with sailors and casual mercenaries that didn't seem too intimidating. But, within the inn, one man seemed to stand out amongst the rest.

A bronze mask lay over his face, the slits of his eyes and mouth too dark to reveal any features hiding behind them. He wore a black robe that had a tight fit. It was the perfect balance between that of a monk's uniform and a tactical mage's.

Compelled to speak to the man, Mikey made his entrance through the door. A chorus of song and laughter enveloped him as he entered, forced to walk to the rhythm of the jolly drunk's dancing. There was a flamboyant bard leading the orchestra across the room.

The bronze masked man sat at the very edge of the room, as far away from the central joy as he could. The man was staring out the window, waiting for someone to sit. Though it may not have been Mikey, he obliged regardless.

"I like the mask you're wearing! It's, uh, badass!" Mikey tried to make small talk with the man despite the uproar of partying adventurers. "Listen, I was wondering if you could help me!"

Mikey waved his hand in front of the man, trying to provoke a response, however the masked man didn't even flinch in reply. Instead he continued staring blankly out the window.

`What a weirdo,' Mikey thought to himself, standing up to leave as he felt a sudden grip on his wrist. The masked man had reached out and now silently studied the back of Mikey's hand - the glowing 'X' that marked him.

"Where did you get this?" A deep voice asked, reverberating against the other side of the metallic mask.

"I- I came to ask you that. I don't know," Mikey asked, his other hand hovering on the hilt of his blade. "I've money, I can pay."

"Hm," the man muttered, looking back to the window, before standing up from his seat and releasing Mikey's wrist. "Follow me."

As he stood up, Mikey found himself being utterly towered over. Barely reaching the man's shoulders, it wasn't only his height but also his width. The bronze masked man was like a castle wall when he straightened his back.

Reluctant at first, Mikey pursued the lead and followed behind him. Everyone in the room, despite being lost in intoxicated ecstasy, cleared a path for the giant's way to the stairs above. All except one.

One extraordinary moron swung his jug of ale outwards in frustration with the dying down of the crowd, only to arrive at the misfortune of emptying the entire jug with a clatter against the chestplate of the bronze colossus.

Everyone around him, the entire room almost, fell silent. As the drunk turned to face him, he was immediately met with a devastating right hook.

Plummeting into the ground, the masked menace looked out over the crowd.

"Keep singing," he commanded, as the drunks abided at once.

'Fucking hell,' Mikey thought to himself, having to step over the cold body as the pair of them continued up the stairs.

Soon, Mikey arrived in a minimalistic room. Aside from a small pillow on the floor and a bag of belongings, every ounce of furniture had otherwise been removed from the room.

"Well you like to keep it simple, I guess," Mikey commented, not sure where to go once he'd entered.

"My name is Adendé," he replied, as he sat down on the pillow, facing Mikey.

"Mikhail, Mikhail Drewitt," Mikey rather cautiously introduced himself as he took a seat on the floor opposing him. "You can tell me what this is then? The mark on my hand?"

Adendé nodded.

"Well?" Mikey asked, his brow raising with an unkempt surprise.

Adendé then extended a hand with his palm open for Mikey. Unsure, Mikey rather slowly placed his hand on top of it.

"The money, stupid," Adendé said as he shifted his hand away.

"Oh! Right!" Mikey chuckled in nervous embarrassment, pulling out his satchel with the gems and coins jangling within. "How much?"

"All of it," he replied, leaning forward and taking the satchel right out of Mikey's hands. As Adendé lifted the satchel open, inspecting the contents, he then spoke out. "An Underworld Token. That's what it's called, the mark."

"Well, what does that mean?" Mikey's brows furrowed as he tried to process the term.

"A cursed blessing. You ought to find your parents - they're obviously not doing too well."

"My parents? I have no parents, I'm- I'm an orphan!"

"Everybody has parents, Mikhail, seemingly even an orphan," Adendé replied, tossing the satchel over to his bag.

"Well can you help me find them then?" Mikey asked, looking down at the mark on his hand.

"Sure, have any more of where that came from?" Adendé gestured to the satchel of riches.