by Evan Edsall

Life be simple. Life be good. It was back then at the very least. I be practicin’ dark arts most foul upon the sea with me crew. Have been since I was a boy after me father kicked me out with nothin’ but the clothes on my back. We had a rhythm to our plunder that’d make any bard, maestro, and performer from here to Winterscire weep from the booms of our warin’ thunder. Our song be a simple one. The mystic, Murray, would cloak the vessel in a fog, blindin’ the eyes of fools to our majesty. To them, we be nothin’ but ocean and sky. Captain Stoneheel would line us up with the enemy vessel, and the mages would take their place on the bow. They’d fling fire to their sails to slow ‘em, lightning to their hull to scare ‘em, and ice to their vitals to stop ‘em. Should the pile o’ bones grow some courage and fire upon us, the clerics would put up a ward most thick to block any cannonball from touchin’ El Arcanum. My job was most important, for I was the only telekinetic practitioner of the crew. I’d push water up, manipulatin’ the waves to turn our vessel. Makin’ sure our bow was straight with the center of their hull. Then I’d start to push the weakened boat towards us. The clerics always held their wards into a wedge so we’d never have to waste energy on repairs when Captain Stoneheel rammed into them with fiery fury. After we show the salty dogs a greetin’ befittin’ of any reputable wizard, I’d push the ship back so the battlemages could levitate into the hole and plunder the boat. Until recently I never got to plunder, movin’ the waves as I did tuckered me out far too much. So much so that I’d pass out just as the boardin’ boys made their move, but it didn’t matter. The bounty we’d haul off with kept us fed and happy for days. The thaumaturgists would morph the meat into anythin’ we wanted. While the King’s men were eatin’ hardtack and weevils, we’d be eatin’ spiced lamb chop and sipping wine.

Our song was bliss, but twas only days ago I discovered how bitter our notes really were. We was sailin’ a few miles from the coast of Grutala. Our barrelman, Montoya, had spotted a frigate close by. The vessel bore the flags of local merchant guilds. We prepared our song of war, but the landlubbers surrendered as soon as their sails lit ablaze. Never before had we set upon a group more cowardly. Captain Stoneheel told me and some of the other auxiliaries to aid in the plunder, as the salty dogs could be thinkin’ fools of us. Me eyes glowed like northern lights at the thought. As we levitated over to their vessel, the people on board were rightfully scared. Our reputation had preceded us more than I realized. I suspected them to play hero but to my mild shock a few of ‘em tried jumpin’. At the time I chalked it up to the poor Grutalan education, but I nary had a moment to ruminate upon it before the other wizards started levitatin’ the jumpers to our cargo hold. In fact, they started carryin’ as many of the sea dogs as they could to the cargo hold.

“Since when did we take prisoners?” I asked myself.

One of the wizards heard my comment and chimed in. “Prisoners?” He scoffed. “Maybe ya ought to lay off the rum!” A person with less pride would have, and probably should have, inquired more about this. However, I didn’t even know this fella’s name and he had the gall to talk to me like a barnacle. So to me, he was irrelevant.

The wizard followed me down to the cargo hold and we began takin’ spices and all sorts of bobbles. I began takin’ the perishables and this buffoon stopped me. The lad told me we already had enough supplies onboard. I figured he was just bein’ lazy seein’ how there was no gash in the crew accommodations on this vessel to haul the loot out of. I didn’t want to hear the man’s voice anymore so I stuck with grabbin’ spices and trinkets.

When we were finished with our plunder I figured I’d take advantage of my post-battle consciousness and see what the crew were up to after a plunder such as this. I had realised that I never got to know my boys too much in all the time I’ve been with ‘em. I mostly spend my days studyin’, sleepin’, or indulgin’ in a good bit of gluttony. What really sparked my curiosity were the landlubbers we took, our crew weren’t too big on ransoms, they always led to headache-inducing naval conflicts. I found ‘em below decks, in our crew accommodations. They were lined up, bound, and a spell was placed upon their lips to prevent their words from escaping. Many of ‘em were cryin’ as Quartermaster Richards counted each one thoroughly. Richards was always a tense man, but his stride was relaxed. The man had clearly done this many times before. The prisoners were forced to watch as they each got brought before the thaumaturgists. They’d be made to lay on a ritual table designed for transmutation. A prisoner would lay down, the thaumaturgists would kill them and begin the spell. Their blood would pour down into holes under the table, collecting into a large cauldron. They turned their blood into wine and their meat into mutton. Truth be told, it wasn’t the pseudo-cannibalism that irked me, it was the brutality and the dishonesty of it all. All of us had done heinous things for power, but forcin’ these prisoners to watch was a step too far. Unnecessary cruelty if you ask me. I’m sure I would have been right as rain had I just been told we were eatin’ people, but the fact that I wasn’t stung a little.

I was lookin’ upon the sorry crowd when I spotted a child among them, in that moment my petty grievances vanished and all I could think about was all the lamb I had eaten over the past few weeks. Children are a line I’m never comfortable crossin’. Adults have a decade or two to flounder about and end up in our grasp. I felt so guilty in that moment, I have but a single boundary and I’ve unwittingly shattered it dozens of times.

“Let me take the lass!” I shouted, pointin’ at the child. The room fell silent as the wizards looked at me with bewilderment, their stares were as cold as our hearts. “I require a live target.” I continued, in as bold a tone I could muster.

Richards gave his ledger a thorough look before given’ me a nod of approval. Before I could gaze too long into the girl’s mortified expression, I cast a sleep spell. She was unconscious but the pain never left her face. Although I had permission to take her, I felt regret over the words I had chosen. They expect her to die, and if she doesn’t I expect the crew to kill her. Now I had to either go back on my word or do somethin’ I’d never forgive. I wouldn’t be surprised if they let me take her as a ward, but if I did that I know she’d lead a life of misery. All of us chose to be here of our own volition. I love this life, but to force this upon another would be against all I stand for. I knew I needed to get the lass back to Grutala. The captain would deny that request in a heartbeat, and if I portaled there in secrecy, the waves would have carried El Arcanum too far away to find again. Besides, I couldn’t let me crew continue down this path. For a moment I considered lettin’ it slide. After all, El Arcanum was the only place I’ve ever truly called home. That moment was all it took for the shame to pierce my body like a thousand blades. I knew what had to be done. I needed to make amends. I needed penance.

I was quiet for most of the evening, waiting until nightfall to make my move. I had hid the girl behind the powder kegs earlier, it was the only place I could think of at the time. I crept around the lower workings of the ship. I needed to spread the crew throughout the vessel. I slowly placed kegs of gunpowder wherever I could below decks, leaving a thin trail of powder to carry a spark of flame. I had to levitate, so as to not risk my footfalls waking anyone. I had no relative motion in the air, so I had to carefully time my movements between doorways. The waves shifting El Arcanum back and forth could easily send me crashing into the hull had I not been so careful. Unfortunately I had not been careful enough, for when I went back to the cargo hold for more powder I was met with Captain Stoneheel starrin’ me down. His face looked weathered, his eyes were watery and his face gaunt.

“Why do ya hurt me so, Sahale?” He said in a pained voice. “I accepted ye as me own, gave ye everythin’ yer heart ever yearned for. Me eyes saw a son, but before me lay a stranger wearing the veneer of what was family.”

“When were you gonna tell me, Cap’n? That we be eatin’ children? Murderin’ children?” I questioned, tears running down my cheeks like waves on the shore.

“Do ye expect us to let them drown? It be a fate far more painful than the one we provide.” He retorts. It was a fair point objectively speaking, but that didn’t stop the rage I felt. We did not give them a painless death, we forced them to watch us butcher and consume their family and friends for sustenance.

“Murray’s a mystic, I know for a fact he could see if a vessel carries children from miles out!” I try to argue but I am cut off before I can articulate anything more.

“We would if ye had just asked, boy,” he shouted, a deep pain rang through his words. “We would have done everythin’ for you! We loved you, I loved you!” He paused, as if a chronomancer had sealed this moment in time.

I felt so much guilt. I assumed they would never listen to me. I had become so disjointed from the crew that I just betrayed the only people who I could trust. I lowered myself to the floor and grabbed the girl, before fallin’ onto my knees. I deserved to be killed right then and there, but I had to commit for the sake of this girl, and any other child whose fate would be sealed should I die.

“I’m sorry.” I pathetically muttered, starrin’ up at the captain who had readied a spell for my undoin’. I let out a ring of flame, setting fire to everything around me. The captain shot off a bolt of lighting that began to weave itself into my veins just as I cast a quick teleport 100 meters upwards. I weeped as El Arcanum violently exploded before my eyes. The sunder of its hull will echo in my head for an eternity. Its blazin’ wreck will stain my memories for a lifetime. I could not shake the feelin’ I had just made a horrible mistake. The girl’s face still echoed tragedy. We had not spoken a single word to each other and yet, our lives are forever changed.

I portalled myself and the girl to Grutala, gave her to the local guardsmen in exchange for a quick death. I am to be hung at dusk. It is from within this cell that I write this confession. I do not respect the King, nor his punishment. I have performed a ritual which will reincarnate my soul into a worm. My time as a worm will allow me to ruminate on my actions. Their lives are fragile, easy, and simple. When life be simple. Life be good.