The Gentle Voyage
Excerpt from the journal of David Thomas Toledo the Fourth, called Leviathan, recorded year 660 after cataclysm, month of The Dying Light, day 26.
… I couldn’t stare long at the horrific form of Felgoth. His evil was clearly reflected in his physical form, and it made me think. I’d come to make a deal—and I did make one. I’d assumed that once the Oblivion Dragon was bonded to the dungeon, it would serve like all boss monsters. But will it? Or will it be so strong and so evil that it can influence James even when bonded?
I often worry if I’m making a huge mistake. But I’m too far along to back out now. I will give James the power and hope that he has the will to resist Felgoth.
The deal itself was easy, but I do question why it was so easy…
James lay in bed, reading a book. For once, it wasn’t his granddad’s journal, but rather Anna’s copy of the Canticles of Light. His grandfather had mentioned a powerful Abomination could be the boss of James’s dungeon, but James knew little about the horrific Felgoth As he read, James tried to picture the hideous beast.
The Canticles of Light contained some insight.
“The mortal champions of the light were assembled—God-King Yutha of Igbo, God-King Besta of Yoruwa, God-King Manka of the Isa, and the Archmage Ephrim. Their armies, numbering over ten thousand, many leveled from their wars with the spawn, were arrayed behind them. They had come to put down the Abomination Felgoth, the terror the Dark had used to plague their lands.
“When it dropped from the skies to land in front of the armies outside the city of Isthay, all quailed and many ran screaming. Its
horrible visage alone, half-alive, half-dead, terrified all who could see it. Surely, a being such as this could not be slain by mere mortals. As it landed, a wave of its power went out, and the magic itself coiled away from Felgoth and ceased to answer the call of the great champions arrayed to fight the Abomination.
“Then Felgoth lived up to his moniker, the Oblivion Dragon, and began to consume. And his name was well given, for everything that faced him that day did suffer the fate of oblivion.”
James shuddered and closed the book, then reached under his pillow to touch the knife he’d left there. It comforted him, despite its uselessness against anything like Felgoth.
How can I possibly make something that powerful my dungeon boss? It could squish everything like a bug! Why, Granddad, did you set me on this path?
But that was the path James was now on. He had to sail to another continent, find an Abomination, convince it to serve in his dungeon, and then bring it back to the city of Norhilm, his home. Then he would make a dungeon there with Felgoth as his boss monster and use the resulting power to take vengeance on all those who had wronged him, and finish Granddad’s work to rid the world of an evil he still didn’t have a name for.
No big deal.
James lay back in bed, next to Flea, who was already snoring. He stretched out, his six-foot-three frame putting his feet a good six inches off the end of the bed. This was the largest room on their ship —the captain’s quarters—but it was still tiny compared to James’s room at his family estate.
No big deal, he thought again sardonically. This is certainly a great starter adventure for a Level Six teenager, right?
After that sarcastic thought, sleep finally claimed James.
James woke to the sound of his sister, Isabel, screaming. His hand immediately went for the knife under his pillow, but in his grogginess, he missed and ran his arm along the blade.
James takes 1 damage. Arm is bleeding. James will suffer 1 additional damage over the next minute.
James had also forgotten he was sleeping next to Flea, and as he tried to jump out of bed, he tripped over Flea, accidentally pushing her petite body off the bed. She hit the ground with a thump and a muffled shriek. James successfully avoided stepping on her, but he still bumped into the far wall.
“Drag you, James, what’re you doing?” Flea yelled from the floor. She stared up at him through the black hair that had fallen across her face, her pale-blue eyes narrowed in irritation.
“Isabel is in trouble,” James said, deadly serious, as he simultaneously tried to keep his arm from bleeding and untangle himself.
He managed to step free of Flea and unwind the blankets and grabbed his sword and dagger, deciding to just let his arm bleed. He rushed out of the tiny captain’s cabin onto the moonlit deck, slamming the door as he did. He wore only his smallclothes, his sword held ready in his right hand, his dagger in his left.
The full moon and twinkling stars provided light and atmosphere. It still took James a moment to notice Rax leaning against the ship’s railing, wearing only leather breeches, his faintly green skin stretched over his muscled frame—a reminder of his orc-ish heritage.
“It’s okay, James,” Rax said, holding a hand up and speaking in a flat voice. “Isabel is fine. She had a nightmare, and Anna’s taking care of her. Anna asked me to come make sure you didn’t murder anyone.”
James lowered his sword, blushing and hoping the darkness covered it. Although, with how things have been going lately, thinking we were being attacked doesn’t take much imagination at all.
James thought back to the bounty hunter who had attacked him— and, for that matter, to Anna’s failed assassination attempt on him. He also thought about the various gangs that wanted him dead, including the Golden Peacocks. Dimitri, the bruiser of the Golden
Peacocks, had abused his sister and was likely the cause of her nightmares.
James glanced at the hole in the deck where Dimitri had punched it. That had happened only eight hours ago. At least he’s dead now. I don’t know if there are any other cures for my sister’s depression, but hopefully, that is a start.
As James exhaled, he dwelled on the possibility of fighting even worse men than Dimitri. Like Felix de Viennois, the man who ran the Golden Peacocks. Surely, he would be upset his right-hand man had been killed.
The chance that people are hunting us is about the same as the chance the sun will rise in the east, James thought sardonically to himself.
“Okay,” James said, lowering his arms. “Take me to Isabel, please.”
“I’d remind you that you’re dressed in just underwear.” A smile tugged at Rax’s lips, disrupting his normal dour demeanor. “Something I’ve seen far too often from you in the short month we’ve known each other I’m beginning to suspect you might, in fact, play for the other team.”
James chuckled awkwardly. “All right, I’ll get dressed.”
“And do something about your arm; it’s bleeding.”
Right, he has slightly better night sight from his orc-ish heritage as well.
James headed back into the cabin. He found Flea already in leather armor and carrying her own daggers and wearing the blackwith-blue-patterning snake mask that marked her as a member of James’s small gang, the Dark Snakes.
“False alarm,” James said. “Sorry about that. Isabel was having nightmares.”
“What a merchant’s daughter,” Flea said, taking her mask off and throwing it on the bed. “No use weeping over the bullshit of life, and no point at all in waking us up. That happens to non-dungeondescended girls all the time, and we get past it; I’m sure Isabel can, too.”
James took a deep breath. She’s not being mean to Isabel, James reminded himself. This is just Flea being Flea. She was abused for a long time and had to rescue herself. No one helped her.
After a few seconds of breathing, James sat on the bed and pulled his clothes on. “People handle things differently, Flea. Not everyone can be a stabby rage-ball to deal with their problems. Please be kind to Isabel, or at least, please don’t be mean to her.”
James thought he heard another muttered ‘merchant’s daughter’ but couldn’t quite tell. In a normal voice, Flea commented, “Fine, but only because it’s you who’s asking. You’re actually a pretty decent guy, even though you’re from a dungeon family, so maybe your sister is too. And she does seem nice, in a naïve and weak kinda way. I’ll try to cut her some slack.”
James smiled at her. It hasn’t been easy for Flea, either, to work with a lot of dungeon descended, the class that she blames for all her abuse. Flea had been purchased by a brothel that made a point of serving dungeon descended with darker desires. She had suffered a lot at the hands of the customers and blamed the dungeon families for what had happened to her
Once dressed in breeches, shirt, sword belt, and boots, James went out to the ship deck and headed down into the common sleeping quarters. The room was filled with hammocks, and the sailors slept in shifts.
James found Hive—whose real name was Warren de Viennois—in the sleeping quarters, but the man didn’t say anything.
Hive was one of the individuals who was easy to walk by. He rarely spoke to anyone and hid away in odd spots, often the corners of rooms or between rum barrels found around the ship. He also had a hunched back, further compacting his already small and thin frame. If James hadn’t been actively glancing around, he might’ve missed him.
And James understood why Hive stayed away from others. The man was deformed. His mask—the magical item the dungeon descended, the rulers of Norhilm, were born with—had grown fused to his face, twisted into his flesh. It was a hideous defect, and Hive shied away from the gaze of others whenever he could.
As usual, Hive didn’t offer a good morning as James strode by. He barely even looked up, his hunched back and small limbs making it difficult for him to move around quickly.
After passing Hive, James quickly found Anna and the rabbit-kin, Laurel, crowded around Isabel on the far side of the sleeping quarters, in a beam of moonlight coming in through a porthole.
Isabel’s green eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but she was dryeyed now. Her long, black hair hung in tangles around her
Anna wore a filmy pink nightgown, like the dungeon family scion she was. She gently stroked Isabel’s hair, despite still rubbing sleep from her own eyes. Anna seemed a perfect vision, her long, white hair—not gray, but white—falling beautifully down her slim shoulders to her back, and her pale-blue eyes staring at Isabel with concern as she consoled her. “It’ll be okay, Isabel. The Light sent us to rescue you, and your trials have passed. You’ve returned to sunny days.”
Laurel was a rabbit-kin, with long, rabbit ears and thin, almostinvisible, white fur across her body. Her own brown hair hung in tangles, but she cuddled Isabel closely. “It’ll be okay. We’re going to get through this together I was there with you, and I know we can get through this together.”
Isabel had the same Toledo features as James—black hair and green eyes. But unlike James’s shoulder-length hair, her hair reached almost to her bottom, in the style currently popular among the woman of the Norhilm dungeon families.
Both Isabel and Laurel currently wore oversized sailor breeches and tunics, something that surprised James and discomfited him.
Can’t believe we forgot to pack clothes for her when we rescued her from Dimitri. James rubbed his head sheepishly. The rescue had been from Dimitri’s sex dungeon, and all the rescued women had been dressed in flimsy, silky nighties and nothing else.
I figured we’d just buy clothes for them when we reached Shield Isle, but leaving them for a day in those outfits, surrounded by mostly male sailors, after what they’ve suffered… Not your best idea, James. You owe thanks to whoever fixed this problem, especially since the solution should have been obvious.
He wasn’t really sure how to handle Isabel’s trauma, but at least someone had taken care of this lesser issue.
James turned to a sailor next to him. “Who thought to give some of the sailors’ clothes to my sister and her friend?”
Hive, who had been watching quietly, spoke up. “Nakedness and states of partial undress are socially unacceptable in the higher classes of Norhilm, especially amongst the dungeon descended and their immediate families. While it is more accepted among the underclass, and especially among recent beast-kin tribal immigrants, it is still considered at least low-class, so I took the appropriate steps to remedy the problem. It seemed to be well received by both Isabel and her friend.”
James let out a laugh. There’s that Hive whom we all know and love.
“Well, thank you for remedying the social issues, Hive,” James said, a slight hint of teasing to his voice.
“It also seemed like the nice thing to do. I know what it’s like to be stared at,” Hive said, his voice flat as he ran a hand over his twisted mask.
Hive half-turned from James, his one functioning eye focused on Isabel.
“Well,” James said, his voice rising a bit. “It seems like everything here is handled, so I’m going to head back to bed. Flea is probably getting antsy.”
Anna looked over at James, smiling. “And when Flea gets antsy, people tend to get cut.”
James snorted and turned to leave, but Isabel called out, “Brother, can I, um, I mean… Could we maybe talk on the deck for a bit? I don’t want to go back to sleep yet. And I don’t want to disturb everyone trying to sleep down here, either.”
“I can keep you company,” Laurel said.
Isabel tensed. “I… I feel safer with James.”
Laurel’s face scrunched in on itself, and she gave a sniff.
“But you can join us,” Isabel added, hugging Laurel back. “I just want to be near James, but we can both be near James!”
“I’ll be near James as well,” Anna said.
Hive stared at Isabel, frowning slightly, but he nodded as well.
Guess we’re going to have an impromptu feelings session.
The whole group walked up the steps from the hold and congregated on the deck of the Leviathan’s Dream near where Rax was lounging against the railing. The Leviathan’s Dream was the lead ship of the small squadron they sailed in and had been named for James’s granddad.
“Thanks, Hive, by the way,” Isabel said as she walked up to where James and Hive were. “I appreciate you helping Laurel and me out.”
“You already thanked me,” Hive said.
Isabel smiled gently at Hive before staring at James’s bloody arm. “What happened to your arm?”
“Did Flea cut you?” Anna asked, an eyebrow raised.
Rax let out an explosive, almost surprised-sounding laugh—James was pretty sure if Rax had been drinking, he’d have spewed liquid everywhere.
“No, Flea did not cut me,” James said, irritated. “I cut myself trying to get my weapons and run to my sister’s aid.”
“Ah, you’re so kind to me, James.” Isabel tapped his arm. Healing magic poured from her, and James briefly felt the odd sensation of the flesh knitting itself back together and then dismissed the notification that he’d been healed.
Isabel, like all members of the Toledo dungeon descended, had Water, Soul, and Wyld magics. She’d made Level Two last night, helping him defeat Dimitri, her abuser, and had taken the first and most basic regeneration power from the Wyld magic as her gained ability.
Isabel also appeared a bit… prettier… than James remembered. Her skin was a touch smoother and her features more symmetrical, not that she hadn’t been decent-looking before. “Did you put your stat gain from leveling up into Appearance?” James asked.
Isabel’s face reddened. “Yeah.”
James laughed. “Hey, I know it’s your life, but please at least consider putting points into more adventure-useful stats.”
“I didn’t think anyone would want me to adventure for real, despite declaring last night I was going to adventure with you. So I took the
stats I figured would make my future spouse happy.”
Definitely still some trauma there, James thought with a slight wince.
“Of course we want you to adventure with us!” Anna said.
“You’re our healer now, and given how the future will play out if I have my way, you’ll likely become the Toledo Dungeon Lord,” James said. “You’ll definitely need to make a lot of levels. My advice would be to save adding to appearance for the end of your adventuring period.”
“Why am I going to be the Dungeon Lord, James? That shouldn’t be possible. I’m the fourth child, so you’d all have to be dead for me to be the Dungeon Lord—it passes to the oldest living child. So Dad would have to be dead, David and Damien would have to be dead, you’d have to be dead, and you’re obviously not, and only then would I get it.”
James sighed. Probably shouldn’t have said anything about this right now.
“Isabel…” James began, not really sure how to say it. He decided to just blurt it out. “I’m really sorry, but, well, Dad and David are dead.”
Isabel put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no!”
Tears ran down her cheeks.
James hurried on. Better to get through it all at once. “I’ve also recently learned from Anna that Damien is the one who betrayed the family. He shut down the rituals, which allowed David and Dad to be murdered. He did so to become the Dungeon Lord.”
Isabel nodded, still crying. “That-That’s what Dimitri kept saying, when he, um… well… when he wanted to hurt me and make me think I’d never be rescued.”
James winced again. “Right. So Damien has to go. He has to either renounce his Dungeon Lord status… or I’ll have to kill him.”
Isabel covered her mouth with both hands at that declaration, her shoulders hunched as she tried to contain her sobs. James couldn’t totally disagree with her—he’d been close to his brothers as well. He remembered their ‘adventures’ together as children, running through the house fighting invisible monsters or rescuing imaginary people.
They’d played ‘How I Build Mine,’ the children’s dungeon game, as well. Damien had loved that game.
Really hope I don’t have to kill him.
But James knew he would if Damien didn’t surrender when James finally caught up to him. Damien has done far too much damage. I won’t let him remain the head of our family.
“Bu-But what about you, James?” Isabel asked. “Why won’t you become the Dungeon Lord?”
“It’s a secret from nearly everyone not in our direct adventuring group, but this is a happier tale,” James said. “Granddad found a new dungeon core. An advanced dungeon core, one that will make a stronger dungeon than we’ve seen before. I’m going to use that one.”
Isabel’s eyes went wide, and her face frowned even more. “Is that why Damien got upset? Because they gave the dungeon core to you and not him, even though he’s older?”
“Probably,” James said, sighing. “Doesn’t justify what Damien did, however.”
Isabel nodded. “I understand. If you’re just going after him for my sake, though, I’ll forgive him, and you don’t need to worry about it. I would hate the thought of you getting hurt or having to kill our brother just so I can be a Dungeon Lord.”
Oh, Isabel, you’re too precious for this world.
Flea walked up to the group out of the darkness, now dressed down to breeches and a thick overshirt but still with both her dagger sheaths strapped to her belt. “It’s about a lot more than just him.”
She slipped her hand into James’s. James thought he saw a slight wistfulness in Anna’s eyes as Flea did so.
Rax and Hive nodded along with Flea.
James smiled at the display of solidarity for the mission. “Flea’s right. Granddad had this whole thing about saving the world from some threat, but I don’t know what that is yet. Granddad left two journals. The second one, which I have, covers the path to finding the boss monster for my dungeon. The first one details his adventures when he discovered the threat that he fought for most of his life.”
The others listened intently.
“The villains have it now,” James continued. “I don’t know who they all are yet, but I intend to kill every one of them, so recovering the journal will be a fortunate byproduct of our revenge.”
Maybe just my revenge. Isabel doesn’t seem that interested in revenge. Still.
Isabel nodded, her eyes downcast, tears still on her face.
“This is also about power, Isabel. I need you, as a full Dungeon Lord, by my side, helping the side of the Light both as an adventurer and as a Dungeon Lord holding a council seat.”
“Who else died?” she asked, hugging herself tightly.
“A lot of people, Sis,” James said. “A lot of people. Uncle Theodore, a bunch of cousins… It’s a long list. I’m sorry.”
She sighed as she rubbed at her wet face.
Captain Emily Wainwright came up from the lower decks. She still wore her captain’s gear, her red hair spilling out from beneath her tricorn hat. James didn’t know her actual level, but he did know that she was an Air mage with powers to control winds—which let them propel the ship faster—and to shoot lightning, which she’d used once to help him stop one of the bounty hunters chasing them.
“Everything going okay up here?” the captain asked as she approached. “The sailors told me the yelling was just nightmares, but I wanted to make sure everyone’s all right.”
Everyone nodded.
“Sorry,” Isabel said. “That was my fault. I didn’t mean to wake everyone.”
“Think nothing of it,” Emily said. “I was up anyway, checking our stores of lumber to see if we can easily repair the deck. But everyone else should probably go back to bed. Dawn is in a few hours, and we have months of hard sailing ahead of us. It’ll be morning the day after tomorrow when we reach our first stop, Shield Isle, where we can hopefully make repairs.”
“Sounds like an excellent idea,” James said. “We should all get some more sleep. You going to be okay, Isabel?”
“I think so,” Isabel said, smiling at him.
“Good,” James replied, smiling back at her. “We’ll have months to talk about everything.”
“And train.” Rax glowered at everyone in turn. “Most of you need a lot of practice. Abilities aren’t enough, and we’re all lacking levels compared to our enemies. To quote my old sergeant, ‘Sweat saves blood.’”
Flea reached out and grabbed James by the arm. “That’s fair, Rax, and we shouldn’t waste this chance. But I am very tired, and we should all get back to bed if we’re going to have any energy for your training tomorrow.”
She pulled on James, who allowed himself to be led away as everyone else dispersed.
Chapter Two Shield Isle
Excerpt from the journal of David Thomas Toledo the Fourth, called Leviathan, recorded year 661 after cataclysm, month of Deepest Nights, day 2.
…Today was tiring. Benjamin and Lucas are still fighting, constantly, and an argument about whether or not to stop for more fresh water exploded into a blades-drawn screaming match. Melissa is still sad. Everyone, in fact, seems sad, angry, tired, or some combination of the three. Given our success, I’d thought our return trip would be a lot more like when we came back with the core— triumphant.
It’s not. It’s just… sad. The camaraderie is missing, and most of my old friends are gone. My children aren’t really talking to me. I wonder, nearly two decades after the decision, if Lucas has forgiven me for saving the core for James. I wonder if Benjamin has forgiven me for my ‘blasphemy’ in going after an Abomination for a boss monster. I wonder if Melissa has forgiven me for the rift among my children and my failure to spend as much time with her compared to James.
I dread that the answer to all of those questions might be ‘no.’
Mostly, I wonder if this is how it feels to be old, something I’m sure anyone reading my journal will know has been on my mind a lot lately. So much loss, and so much distance from the ones around me who are years, even generations, younger than I. I’m Leviathan, champion of Norhilm, greatest of the Dungeon Lords… yet what I feel is what Thomas warned me about—being old. I’ve done so much, tried so hard, to stand against every threat, and I know I’ve helped. But it still feels like the Dark is winning, and I’ve paid with my personal happiness to do no more than stave off disaster for a few years.
And I can’t tell anymore if my prescience works, or if I just feel my age. It feels like the Dark is close, all around the ship, but no one else can divine it.
I’m turning in early tonight, although I’m hoping to wake with these thoughts gone. We are mere days from Norhilm, and I can’t wait to see James again. I dearly hope his own future has less loss than my life did.
James closed the book. That had been his granddad’s last journal entry. He’d read the journal already, of course, but he’d been reading it again.
And already, I’ve lost David, Dad, and in a way, Damien. Not to mention you. Sorry, Granddad, but I’m apparently adding a lot of my own losses.
He sighed and stretched. Time to get up.
A muffled complaint came from underneath the blankets, where Flea pressed up against him in their narrow bed.
“Sorry,” James muttered.
He got out of bed carefully and then dressed, trying not to wake Flea further James buckled his weapons on and went out onto the deck in the crisp morning air.
It’ll get hot soon. I ought to enjoy the moment.
He found sailors slowly working on deck, most already stripped to their breeches, or a few even just in smallclothes, likely knowing the heat would be coming and prepared for their work. The sailors were stowing the last of the supplies below decks, picking up heavy barrels in groups and walking them across the deck and down the stairs. Most had thin, hard bodies, scarred by violence or disease.
Captain Wainwright supervised, occasionally calling orders, but it was obvious that it wasn’t complicated work. She’d shed some clothes already as well and was walking around in breeches and a chest wrap, but her tricorn hat still sat on her head.
She came to see James, her green eyes sparkling and a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Nothing to report, Ship Owner Toledo,” she said, faux formal.
He smiled and saluted back. “Carry on, Captain Wainwright.”
She smiled more fully.
“How come you seem like you’re in a great mood?” James asked. “I mean, you got tossed overboard with a broken arm two days ago, and yet you seem almost totally unaffected.”
She shrugged, and her smile faltered. “Mother still adventured up till she died, and I went on a few small adventures myself. I lost a teammate on one of those. Then a week and a half ago, I watched Mom get eaten by a giant Water spawn. Now I’m captain of a ship, and once we finish this mission, I’ll be commodore of a small flotilla. My arm getting broken and healed right after doesn’t even register, frankly.”
James nodded thoughtfully. Makes sense. The spawn are the creations of the Abominations—fearsome creatures of twisted magic, each usually representing just one magic, always in some horrific form. The one that got Emily’s mom—and nearly killed me and Flea as well—was a huge, slimy creature, all mouth and tentacles, that ripped apart the docks and threw ships at me. I suppose a broken arm does seem mild in comparison.
“We’ll be hitting Shield Isle in an hour or two,” Emily said. “You can shop there, and I’ll replenish a few barrels of supplies.”
“Can we buy fishing rods or something?” James asked. “I’m going to run out of money relatively soon, I fear.”
“Weren’t you from a fishing family?” Emily asked, laughing. “You can’t catch fish while moving at travel speeds in the deep ocean, which is mostly what we’ll be doing. Plus, my sailors are needed to repair, clean, bail water, cook, load and unload… We don’t have a bunch of spare people, you know; we run a tight ship. You and your teammates are all the spare folk we can handle, really.”
“Sorry,” James said, flushing. “My family mostly did its business with fishing on the Inner Sea and the Near Isles. I guess I wasn’t thinking about the deep ocean.”
“Deep oceans are barren. Like a desert in reverse—all water and no land is just as bad for life as all land and no water. We do have fishing rods, but those are mostly for the time you’ll be adventuring on land, assuming we can find a decent fishing spot.”
James nodded.
Emily continued. “The Inner Sea around Norhilm, and the Near Isles, are all shallow water near land, with lots of sediment being stirred up, river estuaries, and tons of shallow water with underwater plants. It’s different out there in the Endless Ocean.”
The information was good to know. James wasn’t familiar with the ocean, despite having grown up in House Toledo, one of the great fishing houses. Having an expert nearby was always beneficial.
“Speaking of which,” Emily said. “We have a pretty strict water and food rationing system. I intend to enforce it on your adventuring party, and I’m asking you to help. With their levels, your adventuring buddies could refuse to listen and kill us all if we pushed it. We can easily die of starvation or dehydration out here if we don’t ration the supplies carefully.”
“I’ll make sure they abide by it,” James said. Except for Rax—he didn’t think it would be a problem. His current team was comprised of Flea, Anna, and Isabel—all small and thin girls—and Hive, who was a small and thin guy—and Rax.
Rax, who was over six feet of chiseled muscle, was always working out and training and likely ate the food of two normal people.
“I might need an extra ration for Rax. Can we spare that?” James asked.
“Yeah, that’ll be fine. Honestly, I think a lot of the rest of your team might be able to eat less than a full portion, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Elves in particular eat less than humans, and Anna is smaller than normal, so—”
“Land ho!” a voice called from the crow’s nest above them.
“Well, that’s my cue,” Emily said, turning. She yelled commands to the crew.
James turned and found Hive coming up from the crew quarters below
He glanced at James, and his good eye narrowed slightly, his deformed eye never moving. James couldn’t see anything else beneath his mask, but he figured Hive was frowning.
Hive walked up to James, his hunch giving him a slight limp. “I think we need to discuss the presence of so many spawn in Norhilm, and what that means.”
