Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Upon a Painted Ocean ❯ Divergence ( Chapter 10 )

Upon a Painted Ocean

Chapter 10: Divergence

Marseilles, France

1596

Cities of importance never seemed to dull with time, Ran mused as he stared fixedly at the natural inlet that comprised the ocean side of Marseilles from his quarterdeck. Splotches of sunlight fought its way through the cloud-dabbled sky, casting alternating patterns of light and dark on the bustling populace of the age-old port. Centuries ago, Roman legions and great emperors had vied for control of the city, its strategic location and geography indisputably a military gem to conquerors and defenders alike. Even now, the town remained a busy place, its docks presently welcoming ships more of the commercial - and somewhat commercial - persuasion.

The Redemption was still several leagues from port, but the crew's anticipation and eagerness at being so close to shore had heightened Ran's sense of urgency as well. At the moment, he was unsure of whether or not he had chosen the correct course in coming here, the possibility remaining high that he had misjudged the situation entirely and had lost his one opportunity to find Ken altogether. Yet, he refused to entertain that notion. He knew that the brunette had only been on the ship for a short period of time and that no one - male or female - had ever caused him to act so irrationally, but strangely, he had a feeling that if he let Ken slip through his fingers, he would have missed out on something important in his life.

"So what business does the infamous captain of the Redemption have in Marseilles?"

The voice, slightly mocking and almost insolent, cut through Ran's reverie as its owner slowly ascended the few steps up to the higher deck. The redhead watched the newcomer approach, his keen sense of observation taking in the gracefully moderated movements of the tall frame and the arrogantly tilted angle of the blond head. If he was a gambling man, he might have bet that the newest addition to his ship - or Youji, as he'd learned yesterday when the blonde had awakened a second time - had some aristocratic blood in him. In the brief time that Ran had interacted with him, the man's self-assured attitude had become evident in nearly every unconscious gesture, which only led the young captain to draw his conclusions.

Youji, nevertheless, definitely looked better now than he had three days ago, Ran decided as he took note of the lightly tanned complexion that had replaced the previously pale and sallow one of the injured man. The blonde had removed his bandages some time the day before, and as much as Ran would have liked to believe that the action had been performed to indicate a remarkable recovery, he somehow knew that Youji had done it more out of vanity.

Raising an eyebrow, he finally spoke when Youji stopped beside him and turned to observe the approaching port in the distance. "You've heard of me?"

"I move around quite a bit." A lazy smile graced the other man's face. "It took me some time to regain my senses and even more time to recall where I had heard of the Redemption, but it eventually came to me. A pirate ship, right?"

"Privateer," came the redhead's automatic response.

"Privateer. Forgive me." Youji chuckled at his obviously 'glaring' error, but then his lighthearted façade became serious. "But you still haven't answered me. What is the Redemption doing here?"

Doubts and arguments ran through the young captain's head about answering that question. He knew he had no obligation to provide any information to a near stranger, and under normal circumstances, he would have dismissed the inquiry with an arrogant turn of his head. But recently, he'd discovered that he wasn't exactly acting under 'normal' circumstances - not when it came to Ken.

"Looking for someone," he replied curtly.

"Aren't we all?" There was a blatant thread of humour laced in Youji's retort, and yet, Ran received the impression that those words masked something much deeper and more somber.

Deciding to reverse their roles, he looked over at his guest and said, "You've enjoyed my hospitality for over three days now. I only think it polite to perhaps enlighten your host as to who he is harbouring on board his ship."

The request was met with an uncomfortable silence, one that extended so long, Ran was beginning to think he wouldn't get a response. Glancing over at the blonde, he saw a look of concentration on the taller man's face as he continued to watch the approaching landscape, giving the impression that he was carefully piecing together a story so as to reveal just the right amount of information.

"I'm a mercenary. I go where the money is," Youji said simply. "My most recent home was that pretty lady of a frigate you encountered back there. She was a runner."

"She didn't look like a frigate."

A fleeting smile graced the blonde's lips. "She wasn't supposed to. She ran contraband." The taller man paused and looked over at his companion for a reaction to his statement. When neither approval nor disapproval was forthcoming from Ran's impassive mask, he continued. "But we were attacked three days out of port on our latest run. I've … I've seen many things in my life, but the slaughter I witnessed on that ship that day could never be put into words. The difference between a fight on land and at sea, Captain, is that at sea, one is faced with the inability to run when faced with the possibility of death … to run away to fight another day … to run away to save one's own life. It is during times like that when I truly see human nature for what it really is: 'Man is no man, but a wolf' [1] … nothing more than a selfish, glorified animal when it comes to slaughter and survival …"

Youji's voice trailed off, as if caught in a memory that would have been better left unstirred. Ran stared over at the haunted look etched on that aristocratic featured face, and couldn't stop the small feeling of compassion he felt for the man. He, of all people, understood what the blonde referred to, having survived countless raids and attacks of his own and witnessed the beasts that men could be reduced to when given the right incentive. But he refused to be dragged back in time and dwell in the darkness of past deeds right now. The present and the future were all that mattered and should be enough for him to live for: Ken had taught him that.

Trying to inject some levity into his tone, he attempted to put the other man at ease. "A mercenary who quotes Roman playwrights. I believe I'm standing beside a rarity."

Those fathomless green eyes twinkled at that comment, and a corner of Youji's lips lifted in acknowledgment to what Ran was trying to do. Still, the older man needed to finish his story; he owed his savior that much at least. However, this time around, the heaviness that had descended upon his words earlier lightened. "All hands were killed in that attack. I only survived because I was unconscious and left for dead. When I woke, I found myself surrounded by the rotting bodies of my shipmates. I was half out of my mind by then, but somehow, I managed to bury them all at sea. I don't know how long I drifted for after that. I guess that must have been when you found me."

Ran didn't say anything. He couldn't. He could not begin to imagine what he would do if he awoke to find his crew dead and the Redemption empty of all life. The very thought of it was enough to cause his breathing to seize and chest to constrict. Thus, as if prompted by an unspoken agreement, the two men stood in silence together atop the quarterdeck, two statuesque figures imbued with auras that would have made royalty look on with envy as the sun danced over shimmering gold and flashing crimson and the shoreline slowly neared.

It might have only been a blink of an eye. Or it might have been an eternity. Ran didn't know how long they remained standing there, but when the outline of numerous docked ships came into view, he forced his body into action.

"If you'll excuse me," he said with his best 'captain' tone. "I have to prepare for docking." With that, he began to move away.

"Captain."

Ran stopped at Youji's deep-timbered voice and looked questioningly at the blonde.

"Thank you."

Violet eyes softened somewhat at the other man's sincere expression of gratitude. Ran nodded his acknowledgement and turned to walk down the stairs.

"If you wish to find anyone in Marseilles, the dockside taverns are the best source of information." Youji said loudly before the redhead was out of earshot. "Tongues are fast and loose with the proper inducement."

Ran caught the words and the returning sparkle in the blonde's eyes before he completely descended the few steps onto the main deck. Again, he nodded his head in acknowledgement of the advice and then, left to perform his duties.

(***)

The soft fingers of a seaside breeze reached out gently and softly caressed the side of Brad Crawford's face, the invisible hand running soothingly over his skin like a mother's loving touch. He closed his eyes and concentrated on that imaginary contact, remembering a time when his most fervent wishes would never have gotten him the filial attention he had craved so badly. But the years had passed, and the times had changed … he had changed. Instead of wishing now, he did. Wishing and dreaming were for the naïve and the weak. No one would willingly help another, no matter how much one needed it. Experience had long ago taught him that if he wanted something, he would have to go out and get it himself. Otherwise, he would spend his life as the useless, pathetic creature he had once been.

His dark hazel orbs scanned the surrounding ships as he coasted the Valiant into Marseilles, looking for a spot along the quay in which to dock his ship. It was then that his gaze alighted on the familiar hull and mast of an already anchored ship - the Redemption. Judging the activity on deck with an expert eye, Crawford noted that his rival's ship had docked not too long ago.

It seemed like he had underestimated his redheaded counterpart's abilities, he thought as he changed his focus to the nondescript buildings and open streets of the city that peeked out from between the lowered sails and riggings of other moored ships.

Ken was here. He could feel it. The young brunette possessed a beauty and strength that had long ago saturated itself into his blood, and right now, his blood virtually sang at the man's nearness. Yes, Ken was near.

The muffled thud of footsteps coming from behind alerted him to another's presence then. Without turning, he knew who it was.

"Schuldich, you understand that your first and foremost order is to track down Ken." He kept the questioning tone from his voice and spoke with as much authority as he could.

"Aye, aye, Captain," came the unusually subdued response from the cheeky redhead.

Crawford smirked at the reply. The younger man had been on board the ship for almost three years now; it was time the crewman learned about the concept of obedience. Perhaps that slap across the face had knocked some sense into the arrogant man.

"See to it then. You know the consequences if you fail."

"Aye, Captain." Again, Schuldich responded in that new, subdued tone of his. And as the younger man slowly moved away, Crawford couldn't help but feel that such uncharacteristic subservience didn't exactly suit the redhead.

(***)

Lavender was such an enticing fragrance.

Youji inhaled deeply as he leaned over and gently nipped the neck of the tavern wench on his lap.

Yes, even if the smell was rather overwhelming and undoubtedly masked the unwashed odour of the buxom brunette, the scent of a woman was definitely something he had missed after so long at sea. Oblivious to the rancorous shouts of the sailors and the shifty eyes of society's lower elements in the tavern around him, he continued to nibble on the soft skin pressed against his lips.

"Oh, chérie, you are très délicieuse," he murmured seductively as he moved closer to her ears.

A deep-throated chuckle was given in response to his comment, and he felt the tart's roaming hands flitter invitingly across his groin.

"Monsieur, you sure know 'ow to flatter a woman," the brunette said, dark exotic eyes twinkling wickedly.

"But I was merely stating a fact, chérie," Youji countered easily and heard a surprised gasp when he found a particularly sensitive spot behind her ear. Smiling at the discovery, he continued. "I need to ask you a question, ma chère."

A rather airy groan greeted his request, one that he took for acquiescence. "I'm looking for someone."

"Alors, you 'ave found 'er," the woman whispered aggressively as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed herself closer, subconsciously begging for more attention when her dubious occupation required otherwise.

Youji chuckled at how the brunette had succumbed to his sensual magic so thoroughly.

"No, chérie. That's not what I meant. I'm looking for a boy, blond hair, and blue eyes. Have you seen anyone that matches that description lately?"

The woman pulled away and straightened her back, giving Youji an odd look before answering. "Non, Monsieur. I am sorry, but I 'ave not seen."

To say that he was disappointed with the response was an understatement. This couldn't be a dead end, not for him. He refused to believe that he would be defeated so quickly. Having left the Redemption the moment she docked, he had immediately started his self-imposed quest and found the nearest tavern. Disjointed images and stuttered screams still haunted his memories but he had seen and heard enough to put a few pieces of the puzzle together. Not everyone had died on that ship that fateful day.

Not Omi.

"Oh la la … très joli, n'est pas?"

The voluptuous prostitute on his lap may have made the sighing comment unconsciously but it was enough to snap Youji from his musings and turn his attention to what had captivated the woman. He watched curiously as a familiar redhead walked into the dingy tavern, his regal bearing and aristocratic attitude at odds with the other not-so-noble elements in the room the moment he entered. And apparently, the brunette and he weren't the only ones to notice the young captain's entrance. The greasy-haired and gape-toothed clientele also turned their heads at the new arrival, curious eyes taking in the clean lawn shirt, immaculate dark breeches, and fine leather boots.

"Yes, pretty indeed," Youji murmured as he gently shifted out from underneath the woman, and saw a scraggily and drunk sailor bump into the redhead. Instantly, the young captain reached for the sword strapped to his side, eyes deadly as they trained themselves on the offender. The tension in the room suddenly escalated tenfold at the instinctive action, and Youji found himself standing up and moving quickly to diffuse the situation.

Setting a restraining hand on the redhead's sword arm, he said quietly, "It would be to your benefit, Captain, if you do not offend the locals."

Focused amethyst looked up to meet sparkling emerald, and when a flicker of recognition graced those violet orbs, the blonde felt the muscles beneath his fingers relax. Youji gestured with his head to where he had been sitting and let out a relieved sigh that he didn't know he'd been holding.

The offending sailor forgotten, the two of them walked casually toward the rickety table that he had claimed earlier and took seats opposite each other across the scarred wood. The wench, the older man noted amusedly, was sidling up to Ran now.

"Just a word of advice, Captain," Youji said to start the conversation. "Making nice with this rabble will probably get you much further than if you were to fight them."

"I have no time to act like a reprobate."

The blonde almost laughed at the petulant reply. "Don't, and see how much help you'll receive."

But Ran merely ignored his advice, opting instead to assess the occupants of the establishment for a possible source of information. Youji sighed inwardly and shook his head.

"You're not exactly one of them, are you? You act arrogant enough to be a noble."

That caught the redhead's attention. Turning his gaze back toward the blonde, Ran said with a small smirk, "I could say the same about you."

Immediately, Youji felt uncomfortable with the sudden deflection in topic. Good humour dissipating, he forced a smile onto his lips and nodded to acknowledge the other man's retort. "Be careful where you tread, Captain. Going where you are not welcomed could have dire consequences."

Trying to act as natural as he could, he reached out and took a swig of the ale he had ordered when he'd first walked in. That done, he stood - not too abruptly, he hoped - and prepared to leave.

"Good day then, Captain," he said as he walked around the table. "And good luck in your search." With that, he moved casually toward the exit, making a point of ignoring the curious, violet gaze that followed him the whole way out.

(***)

Ran watched from beneath hooded eyes as the enigmatic blonde languidly made his way through the seedy room, his deductive skills creating possible theories about who the man truly was. Although Youji had guessed correctly in regards to his heritage, he didn't think he was too far off the mark with his own conclusion. The way the blonde carried himself, the manner with which he spoke, even the very air about him were proof enough that the man was far from common.

"It seems your friend has left you all alone … Capitaine."

The sultrily spoken words finally brought his attention back to the table, and the dark-haired woman sitting uncomfortably close to him. Lush breasts duly overflowing from a tightly cinched half-corset and revealing bodice, and deep brown curls suspended messily atop her head, the wench's healthy amount of exposed flesh posed an enticing invitation to all female-deprived sailors. Oddly enough, Ran found that he wasn't as moved as he usually was by such a bountiful sight.

Darkly fringed eyes blinked seductively at him. "How about Mignone keep you company today?" the prostitute said as she assertively shifted herself onto his lap and laced her arms around his neck.

Ran fought to act the gentleman and not dump the woman back onto her own seat. Normally, he wouldn't mind all the attention lavished on him by a willing female, especially after a long voyage at sea, but this simply did not feel right. Images of the last time he'd taken a woman in his arms came back to him, images of Amalie so brazenly sprawled on him as he tried to erase the haunting brown eyes of a certain former slave from his mind, images of a brief flicker of hurt and betrayal on that guarded face when the brown-eyed man had been told of his purposely hurtful actions …

"I'm sorry … Mignone … but I'm very busy today. Perhaps next time," he said, placating.

The heavily rouged lips pouted. "Mais Capitaine! Surely you have time for just a little fun?"

Ran firmly but carefully pushed the woman back onto her own seat. "I'm afraid not. I'm looking for someone … a young man, brown hair and brown eyes. I don't suppose you've seen someone by that description lately?"

A scratch of the chair along the questionably clean floor, and Mignone was on her feet, hands on her hips and expression of exasperation on her powdered face. "What is it with you sailor types? Did all those months at sea change your tastes for the fairer sex?"

Ran could have sworn he heard an 'hmph' before she walked - or more specifically, stomped - away, arms swinging angrily and curls bouncing indignantly. The young captain looked on in part amusement and part confusion for a moment before returning his thoughts to the more important matter at hand. He had sent Kit and his men out to see what information they could gather, but the city was large, and if the luck he had been having in the past two taverns he'd visited were any indication, he doubted the others were meeting with more success than him.

Patience, he had to keep reminding himself. Ken could be anywhere … not only in Marseilles, but anywhere on the Continent. He didn't know how long he was planning to search, but he was not willing to give up yet. In all the years of his life, he had never had such an impossible goal to strive for, but at the same time, he realized that he had never felt such determination in attaining that goal.

"Excuse me, Sir, but I couldn't 'elp but o'er'ear. You're a cap'n, ain't you?"

The timid voice caused Ran to notice a boy of about seventeen or eighteen years who had just detached himself from the drab background of the tavern. Dirtied hair that could have been any colour of the rainbow under that filth, and beseeching grey eyes staring at him, the boy wasn't much to look at, scrawny frame visibly shaking beneath a rough linen shirt and threadbare pants.

The redhead nodded, uncertain at to why a young boy he had never seen before would approach him like this.

"Me an' a friend need passage back to England. Please, Cap'n, if you're goin' that way …"

"Sorry, Kid, I'm not," Ran cut him off.

"Please, Cap'n. We've been 'ere for o'er a day. I - I can pay," the boy said almost desperately. Reaching into his ragged clothing, the kid managed to produce a piece of gold on his palm. "Look 'ere."

Ran was about to dismiss the plea again when the glinting metal made him pause. It couldn't be …

Grabbing the gold from the boy's hand, the redhead brought it closer to his eyes and was surprised by the details on the piece of jewelry: his family crest, etched with exquisite detail on the precious metal with a cursive 'F' - an exact replica of the ring he wore around his neck. But how had the ragamuffin boy come upon it? And why was there another one of his signet ring in existence?

"Where did you get this?" he demanded roughly as he closed his fingers around the gold and looked sharply at the boy.

"Eh! Give that back! I need it!" the kid yelped as he tried unsuccessfully to swipe the ring back from the older man. Ran merely pulled his hand out of reach, and placed his free one on the boy's shoulder's to still him.

"Where did you get this?" he repeated stonily.

The kid froze at the captain's authoritative tone. "From a friend," he replied obediently.

"Friend? Who? What does he look like?"

The boy shrugged, slowly becoming resigned to the fact that he might have lost his one chance to gain passage home. "What difference would it make to you?"

The childish attitude had no effect on Ran who stared silently back at the kid. Soon, the younger of the two grew uncomfortable with that penetrating glare and began to squirm.

"Brown 'air, brown eyes, … real nice like," the boy mumbled grudgingly.

Violet eyes widened slightly at those words. "Ken …" the young captain breathed out unconsciously.

Suddenly, the kid's face brightened. "You know 'im? Ken, I mean …"

It had to be him. The coincidence was too uncanny for it not to be. Ran felt his pulse quicken, the blood coursing through his body at a near uncontrollable speed as the staccato of his heart echoed loudly in his ears. "Where is he now?"

The boy's face saddened somewhat. "Some bloke took 'im. Back to the ship probably."

"Ship?"

"Aye, Cap'n. The one we were chained in. We managed to escape but Ken got caught again tryin' to save someone."

Ran couldn't stop his fist from tightening at those words, the rim of the duplicate ring digging itself into his flesh. But he wouldn't be deterred … not now. "What did the ship look like?" He managed to keep the emotion from his voice as he continued his interrogation, grateful for all the practice he'd had as captain.

The boy shrugged again, but the concentration he displayed was enough to tell Ran that he was trying to recall. "I don't remember much. We ran away so fast … It was a big ship … with a bull or somethin' with 'orns on the front …"

The redhead remained silent, hoping the kid would provide something a little more detailed, but nothing else was forthcoming. Seeing the dejected look on the younger man's face, Ran reached into his pockets and tossed the boy several gold coins. Quick hands grabbed the money before the other riff-raff in the room had a chance to see the small fortune that had been thrown.

"Take this," Ran said. "When I docked, I saw a ship that could help you. Go find a clipper called the 'Misercordia'. She's a cargo ship and her captain, Robert Carrington, should be headed back to England."

The boy's dull eyes lit up at the helpful information and he quickly turned to leave. "Thank you, Cap'n!" And then, he stopped, giving the redheaded man a worried look. "You're goin' to find him, ain't you, Cap'n? Ken, you'll rescue Ken?"

Ran stared impassively at the kid and gave him a solemn nod. It wasn't much of an answer, but it was enough to send the boy on his way, happier than he'd been when he'd first approached the redheaded stranger. Alone, the young captain loosened his hold on the ring he'd been gripping and stared down at the imprint it had made on his palm. A temporary brand, an impermanent mark indirectly left by Ken …

"I'll try," he whispered to no one in particular. "I'll try …"

(***)

/ "… He's something I've wanted since before I could remember …" /

Schuldich grumbled under his breath, cursing the unpredictable actions of temperamental captains, and kicked viciously at a piece of rubbish that got in his way. The part of what looked to be rope skittered innocently along the wooden boards of the docks, landing a few steps away from the irate redhead, and inviting another kick as it did so.

The man had hit him! He couldn't believe it. Even after all this time, he still felt the phantom sting of that contact on his face, reminding him that he was nothing more than some unknown, expendable crewman on that ship.

Giving the discarded piece of rope another kick, he watched it fly away from his path and land beside some barrels sitting near the edge of the quay. Ordinarily, he would've just continued walking, but something caught his attention then. Perhaps it was the way the uniquely angled rays of the late day sun that made him pause. Or perhaps it was where that bit of rope had landed that stopped him. Whatever it was, his eyes were glued to the shadows cast by those large barrels. The containers weren't much to look at by themselves, chipped wood bound together by a couple of unremarkable metal bands. It was what hid in the shadows of those things that held his gaze.

A boy, maybe a few years younger than he had been when he'd first arrived in Marseilles, sat huddled in the protective darkness cast by the large wooden containers. It wasn't a bad hiding pace, Schuldich thought. What better spot to hide than in plain sight? And it wasn't as if the passing people would notice a filthy, half-starved urchin sitting on the edge of a dock. The redhead smirked at that mentality, experience having taught him that the idea may be lamentable, but undeniably true. The kid wouldn't last long though if he remained huddled there as he was. The best thing to do, in his opinion, was to stow away on a ship.

/ "…if you refuse to follow orders, I'll have you thrown off the Valiant …" /

Schuldich's mood darkened as Crawford's long established threat echoed through his head.

Damn him! It wasn't as if he had to stay aboard that ship. The man had no leverage over him. He could handle himself if he was thrown off the Valiant. In fact, he should just leave right now and save Crawford the trouble.

But even as the thought entered his head, the inexplicable hollowness inside him grew. Schuldich naively rubbed his chest, absently thinking that the action would alleviate the unwelcome sensation.

What was this? Why was the thought of leaving that ship so … so painful? Surely, he didn't actually want to stay … did he?

No, he didn't 'want'. He never wanted. Wanting was a weakness and he had drummed out all weakness in himself long ago.

Giving his head a shake, he decided to continue on his way. The captain wanted that boy back, and far be it for him to disobey the orders of that man.

"Hurry, we're casting off soon."

Normally, those words from one of the passing two sailors wouldn't have even turned Schuldich's head, but as the two burly men walked right by him, he couldn't help but notice the discoloration around the speaker's nose, bruises from a recent fight that had yet to disappear. And the companion, the second of the two sailors, looked to be favouring his right arm … a sword arm …

It had to be a coincidence, Schuldich thought. But what were the chances of encountering two men who had injuries in Marseilles that were identical to the injuries he'd inflicted on his London attackers? Pretty damn low, he concluded and kept an indiscreet eye on the two men as they hopped onto a gangplank of a ship docked nearby.

/ "… I'm ordering you to find him, as a captain to a subordinate. No arguments, Schuldich, or I'll have you punished for mutiny and thrown off this ship …" /

Damn Crawford! Why did the man's threat ring so true and why was it affecting him so much?

Letting out a frustrated breath, he swiftly walked over to the boy he'd seen just moments ago and threw him a few coins.

"Hey, Kid. Got a job for you," he stated loudly.

The boy jumped, startled that someone had actually approached him and spoken to him.

Schuldich ignored the predictable reaction. "Down this dock is a ship called the Valiant." Realizing the kid might not be able to read, he decided to quickly elaborate. "It's pretty big and has a carving of a soldier on the front." The redhead was slightly relieved to see understanding dawn in the wide blue eyes he was talking to. "Find the captain of that ship and tell him the Schuldich might have found what he's looking for. Tell him to find a ship called …" He paused and looked over at the ship the two injured sailors had boarded. Squinting his eyes, he barely made out the name etched onto the vessel's hull. "Tell him to find a ship called the Minotaur. Got that, Kid?"

The bewildered boy nodded and stood up slowly, picking up the coins that had been thrown at him as he did so.

"Then go. There's more of that if you do everything properly."

Without further hesitation, the boy left, feet flying over the boards at the promise of more money.

That done, Schuldich made his way over toward the suspect ship, observant eyes taking in the elaborate detailing of its hull and figurehead.

/ " … first and foremost order is to track down Ken …" /

Pushing that domineering voice from his mind, the redhead crept onto the gangplank he'd seen the two seamen traverse just a little while ago. If Crawford wanted his bloody toy back, then he'd get it for him. Perhaps then, he would be left in peace.

The art of sneaking on board ships was something he had mastered years ago, and apparently, it was a skill he hadn't forgotten. Quickly darting behind a few crates the moment he stepped onto the deck, he let his eyes travel over the boards to take in the unfamiliar surroundings. A flurry of crewmen were scurrying about, some moving crates while others moved the rigging and sails around, in all likelihood, preparing to cast off. If that were the case, then he would have to act quickly.

"Eh? What's this?"

Schuldich stiffened at the voice behind him, silently cursing himself for being ten times a fool in letting one of these dim-witted sailors discover him. Without warning, he stood up and lashed his leg out backwards, knocking the air from his burly discoverer with a solid kick to the chest. But in doing so, he had given away his position, the sound of the falling man and the colour of his bright hair attracting the unwanted attention of all the other crewmen. It wasn't long before he was surrounded, predatory eyes and angry faces all focused on him, the intruder.

/ " … He isn't dead, Schuldich, because he wouldn't die on me …" /

/ " … You know the consequences if you fail …" /

He could have easily dodged the punch that landed on the side of his face. Likewise could be said for the kicks that caught him in the stomach and his ribs. He could have blocked numerous hits that came his way, or at least, deflected them to less vital areas. But he didn't.

Not when he was so vastly outnumbered.

Not when Crawford's threat rang so clearly in his head.

Not when …

/ " … he wouldn't die on me. And even if he desired it, I wouldn't let him …" /

Damnit! Not when it meant failing the only person who had never betrayed him …

(***)

That man was too perceptive by half, Youji thought as he morosely walked his way down the docks. Had he really been that obvious? He thought that he had gotten rid of all evidence that might have betrayed his breeding long ago. But apparently, that young captain had seen something in him that gave it all away.

But it was of no consequence now. He would probably never see that redhead again, and for that, he should be grateful. Besides, there were more pressing matters at hand.

Looking around, he mentally tallied the possible places he could visit for information before nightfall: a few taverns, perhaps some people in the marketplace before it closed down for the day …

And then, the blonde froze.

A ship casting off was a common sight in a port city. But the vessel that was slowly moving away from shore was too familiar for Youji not to notice.

Immediately, the stunned man broke into a run.

(***)

Ran leaned back in his chair, fingers playing with the newly acquired ring and eyes not leaving the glittering gold. He had returned to the Redemption not too long ago, secure and heartened in knowing that Ken was here somewhere, or at least, he had been here at one time. He had sent what men were still available to see what information could be gathered the moment he had returned, but he had not heard any word yet from Kit and the men sent out with him, or the second group he'd sent out after he had fortuitously found the ring.

Engrossed as he was with the piece of gold in his hands, he remained entirely oblivious to his door opening, and of the man who strode purposefully into the cabin to stand before his desk. Only when a bag of coins was dumped haphazardly onto the navigational charts in front of him did he become aware that he had company. Closing his fingers around the ring and looking up, he was met with a pair of hard, green eyes.

"I need your ship," Youji said.

Ran returned the blonde's stare with a cold one of his own. "I'm not a mercenary."

"For today you are. If there's not enough gold here, I can get you more later."

"I don't need your gold."

At that statement, the standing man placed his hands on the desk and leaned down so that their eyes were level. "Listen, my lord captain," he enunciated each word through gritted teeth. "I need your ship. It's the only one I know that's ready to set sail, and I can not lose any more time."

But Ran wasn't affected by Youji's demanding tone. He couldn't believe the man had the audacity to walk in here and insult him like this. "The Redemption is not for sale, and neither is her crew."

"What do you want? Anything. Name your price." The blonde straightened and looked down at the young captain with narrowed eyes.

"I told you. I'm not a mercenary and I don't have a price."

"Goddamnit!" Youji planted a fist on the fine oak desk, causing the recently deposited coins and the various brass instruments on it to rattle. Frustration and a hint of desperation were evident on his face. "All you aristocrats are alike! Too arrogant and haughty too see beyond your own noses!"

A crimson eyebrow arched at that comment as Ran just watched the ranting man with an implacable stare. He recognized that Youji was trying to calm himself down, but even so, the man still spoke with too much aggression in his voice.

"You said you were looking for someone. Well, let me tell you something, my lord captain, you're not the only one! I am too, and the person I'm looking for is on a three-mast schooner with some god-awful minotaur figurehead that just sailed out of port. If you're not going to help me, then tell - "

"What was that you just said?"

"What?"

Ran stood, meeting Youji's frenzied gaze with expectant, yet tempered, hope on his face. "About the ship. What did the ship look like?"

The blonde man was slightly surprised at the captain's sudden change in attitude. "Three-mast schooner, rode fairly low in the water, approximately twenty gun ports, a minotaur figurehead …"

That was all Ran needed to hear. Walking around his desk, the redhead quickly moved toward the exit.

"Where are you going?" Youji asked, bewildered.

The captain paused briefly at the doorway and threw the blonde a quick glance. "Preparing to set sail. You going to help?"

End Chapter 10

Endnote:

[1] "Man is no man, but a wolf."

- Plautus, 'Asinaria'

(Often quoted as 'Man is a wolf to man')