Limitless seas book 2, p.20
Limitless Seas, Book 2, page 20
“Captain, my people, are we also part of the ship’s crew now?” Ghonen, the gnoll leader, asked.
“I haven’t kicked you off yet. You and your people are welcome aboard as long as you behave and keep working as hard as you have been. I’m even open to signing on more of your people, if you can spare them,” Larson confirmed. With all the concerned crew candidates taken care of, Larson had time to disembark and start on his other business. The first stop was Felicia’s smithy so he could have his armor looked at.
“What did you do to my work? No, scratch that. What did you do to yourself?” Felicia exclaimed as Larson approached with the battered armor in hand.
“I had a bit of a change while I was out, and I’m sorry to say I needed to make some alterations in the field,” Larson replied, handing over the armor.
“Nothing I can’t fix. It’ll take some time, though.” Felicia looked him over. Larson could see the gears moving in her head; she was already figuring out how to make the necessary adjustments to equip someone with two sets of arms.
“Good. We’ll also need the weapons and armor for the crew. Have you made any progress on that while we were gone?” Larson asked.
“Yep, not quite finished yet, but you can send someone over to collect what I’ve completed so far.” She showed him a corner of her shop where spears, swords, and shields were stacked up. Several bits of armor were also on hand, but it didn’t look like she had made much progress on that front.
“Good work, but what’s with the armor? We’ll need that done as well,” Larson asked, a bit disappointed in the progress, but given that she was working on her own, it was actually quite impressive how much she’d accomplished in the short time they had been away.
“Before I dug too deep into getting new armor ready, I wanted to show you something and see if you wanted to make any changes.” Felicia searched beneath the counter and pulled out a hardened leather vest.
“What’s so special about leather armor?” he asked. It was good work, but nothing revolutionary enough to have halted his order for equipping the crew.
“It’s what’s in between the leather that counts. Look.” Felicia unfastened several tie-downs and pulled out a white armored plate of some kind. After looking at it, Larson could see it was steelwood, just like the rings on the armor she had made for him.
“Is that steelwood?” he asked.
“That it is. I had a breakthrough and figured out how to hammer it into shape without destroying it. The process takes a lot longer to complete and get the right shape compared with steel, but when it’s forged this way, it’s stronger than steel, won’t corrode from the seawater, and weighs less than half of what a metal plate would. I figured you might want to change out your order to include some of these instead of the ring armor we had planned.” Felicia handed over a dagger so he could test the strength of the plate compared to a similar steel plate she had on hand.
As she had told him, the steelwood held up as well as the steel plate and was considerably lighter than he had figured it would be. The leather armor shell was a nice touch, and though it would leave some gaps in the armor, it would enable them to swap out damaged armor plates with fresh ones. It turned out that steelwood would shatter and crack rather than dent and deform as a metal plate would have. Felicia assured him she could reforge any damaged pieces, which would be cheaper than forging new ones.
“I like it. How much will it cost and how long will it take you to turn out enough of it to outfit my crew?” Larson asked.
“Well, it’s not cheap, but I can keep the cost down if I use standard leather rather than more exotic materials for the shell. Still, it’ll cost you a bit more than double what the other armor would have. This new design takes a lot more time and material,” Felicia said. The cost was steep, but with their last haul, he could afford to do it and not leave the ship’s coffers empty.
“Get to it, then. Let me know if this won’t cover it. Oh, you should also see about hiring some help. I’d like to have this done before I sail again, and you never know how long that will be,” Larson said, handing over a good chunk of his available coin.
“I’ve been trying, but not many want to learn their trade from a halfling,” Felicia said.
“Hmm, if you’re willing to work with unusual sorts yourself, I may be able to find some help for you. We’ve taken in a few strays that are staying here in town. Why don’t you get together with Lucian over at his shop? I think he’ll have someone that’s more than happy to learn a trade from you,” Larson said, thinking about the gnolls. They were strong enough for the task, and it would mean more income for the pack while the others were away at sea. He was also curious if Felicia would be willing to work with the gnolls. Sure, she was annoyed at being looked down on because of her race, but was that enough to overcome what seemed to be a natural aversion of the people of this land to the gnolls?
“I’ll do just that. I can use the help. I’ll start on your armor later today and then get to work on some for your crew, along with the last of the weapons,” Felicia said.
Larson made his way to Lucian’s shop. The man was glad to see him and had started to turn a small profit now that he had more help. The gnoll warriors had signed on as guards and did a good job at scaring off any troublemakers and thieves when the shop was closed. The warehouse they had rented to store goods had also been used as housing for the rest of the gnolls, and many of the ones not taking care of the children were helping to organize and move stock from the warehouse to the shop.
Lucian, thankfully, didn’t make a big deal over Larson’s new appendages, but Millie couldn’t stop staring at them, finally declaring that his new arms were “neat.” They had arrived in port during the afternoon, and now it was starting to get dark. With most of the shops, including the clothiers, shutting down for the night, it was probably time to head back to the ships. There was a lot to do still, not the least of which was finding out what was going on with Lord Mox.
Chapter 22
~
“Bug Bartholomew, are you two okay?” Larson asked as Gilroy served the evening meal to the remaining crew that wasn’t out on leave. The ogre had tucked into his meal, rapidly cleaning out the first trencher of fish stew he was served, but now the ogre only picked at the second plate, and the two heads were quietly muttering to themselves. If the loss of appetite for the ogre was unusual, speaking quietly was even more so.
“Uh, sorrys, Cappin Larson. We’s gots stuffs in our brains,” Bartholomew mumbled.
“What my brother means is that we’re having quite the time deducing the nature of the knowledge imparted to us by the artifact. From what I have been able to glean, it contains a portion of the history of our people, back from when ogrekind possessed a greater mental acuity. Apparently, those such as ourselves were held in high esteem and not cast out as a bad omen, very much unlike what we faced with our tribe,” Bug said, gesturing toward the two heads.
“I can’t say I know anything about ogres, but why would your kind being treated differently long ago make you two lose your appetite?” Larson asked.
“It’s not that. It’s an image we can’t see clearly and something else our minds aren’t able to grasp,” Bug said.
“What was the image?” Larson asked, worried about what was going on with one of his officers.
“The image was of ogre warriors carrying great weapons that slew their foes in droves and secured a great empire for my people. Ogres such as us were key to these weapons, but I can’t figure out how. It has something to do with the sand, that sorcerer’s sand we keep running into. I can almost grasp the final piece of the knowledge. It deals with alchemy, but it eludes us and causes pain every time we try to focus on it,” Bug lamented.
Larson thought about the sand. He had found a small pouch of it aboard the sunken vessel on the very island where he had met Bug Bartholomew. They later liberated several dozen barrels of it from the Lost Soul’s holds. Could the two have some kind of connection? From what the alchemist had told him, the sand was pretty and had an interesting name, but it didn’t possess any type of magical power. Maybe having the ogre talk to the alchemist would solve their mystery, or at least they could find a way to alleviate the distraction so Bug Bartholomew could get back to work. He needed to have the ogre create several siege engines and go over both ships for any lingering problems after their last refit.
“Why don’t you go into the city tomorrow and see the alchemist Sarvo? He seemed to know about the sand and even bought a sample of it from me,” Larson offered.
“Okey dokey, we’ll see Slobbo and asks about the sands,” Bartholomew agreed.
“Good. While you’re there, see if you can negotiate a deal with him. We need healing potions for the crew, and maybe we can work something out through Lucian’s shop to feature Sarvo’s potions in exchange for a discount on our purchase,” Larson added. He didn’t want to needlessly lose any of his crew if a few silver spent on a potion could have saved them.
With a dopey smile posted on each of his faces, the ogre found his appetite once more and began to eat with gusto. Hopefully, the talk with the alchemist would set the ogre at ease. He needed Bug Bartholomew back at work, crafting the weapons they would use to defeat any pirates or beasts they needed to fight at sea. The ogre ate as much as twenty of his other crew, and Larson would go broke feeding him if he wasn’t contributing to the fleet.
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and Larson enjoyed spending time on watch. A bustling city had a strange appeal late at night when everything was quiet and peaceful. He knew the place would be a riot of activity in a few hours, but he enjoyed the quiet and the quick conversations with the others on watch. A few guardsmen patrolled the docks. Many of them were new faces, recent recruits hired to make up the losses that Stratwall Harbor had taken during its fight with the makon. Larson still had a makon figurine in his possession but had no idea how the ritual functioned to summon forth the creatures. It might be best just to give it to Lord Buxton to add as additional evidence against Mox.
When morning came, the officers and crew went about their day. Shada and Tarley would take turns heading out to recruit new crew members and testing them to see who would make the cut. With two successful voyages under their belts, they could finally afford to be a bit more choosey in whom they signed on. At least that was what Larson hoped would be the case. For his first stop, he was going to head to the tailor. He needed clothing that fit properly if he was going to present himself to the lords of the city with the results of his voyage.
On the way to the tailor’s, he checked in with the smith, Felicia, but as he suspected, his new armor wasn’t quite ready yet. The tailor was in a nicer part of town, and going about with four arms and a tattered shirt garnered more attention from the guards than he wanted. One or two recognized him from the battle against the makon and confirmed he was welcome in this part of town. The tailor’s shop, Francine’s Finery, was as he remembered it, and even though he had a good experience with Francine in their earlier meeting, he still was no fan of shopping for clothing.
“Welcome to . . . Oh my, oh dear, what in the name of the gods of haberdashery have you done to that garment? Francine! Francine! I need you!” Hamilton Purdue shouted after realizing the customer entering the shop was Larson. He seemed less aghast that Larson had four arms and was more concerned about the hack job he had done on his shirt to accommodate his new body. He ran into the back, which was fine with Larson; he didn’t exactly want to deal with the stuffy tailor and would prefer dealing with Francine directly, as he had done previously.
“Stop that, Hamilton. A shouting employee is not exactly what our clients expect from our shop, is it?” Francine said as she emerged from the back. “Ah, Captain Larson, good to see you again, though it looks like the short time you’ve been away hasn’t been kind to my work, has it?” She pulled out a measuring tape and began to take new measurements, mumbling numbers to herself. Larson let her have at it, knowing from his previous visit that she would be totally focused until she was done. That was fine with him; the quicker he could get this over with, the better.
“I assume we’ll need to make alterations to everything I made for you earlier, including the formalwear?” Francine asked as she worked.
“Yes, please. Can they be altered, or will I have to buy completely new outfits?” Larson hoped that altering would be a cheaper option than remaking everything from scratch.
Francine ignored the question for a while, lost in her work as she pulled Larson this way and that to get his measurements. “Well, I can alter everything, which is cheaper than buying new, and it won’t take as long. Your torso grew a bit, as well as the second set of arms, but nothing I can’t handle. When can you get me the garments to fix? This one is garbage, so I hope you didn’t do that to everything or I really will have to start from scratch.”
“This shirt’s the only one I butchered. Here are the others.” Larson pulled them from his void storage, which he could tell surprised the tailor. He resisted asking her to hurry because he needed to meet with Lord Buxton, but he had a feeling that, just like him, the woman wouldn’t take well to being rushed.
“Give me a moment. This won’t take long.” She swiped the clothing and headed toward the back area where she worked. Hamilton made another appearance, handing out some wine and finger foods while Larson waited. He was hungry so he jumped into the refreshments, the cost of which was no doubt going to be added to his final bill.
True to her word, Francine didn’t take long to make the alterations. Larson had access to magic as well as special abilities based on his species and class. No doubt the tailor had used something similar to alter his garments in such a short time. His formalwear retained the same bonuses as before, and he was happy to see it fit perfectly, allowing plenty of range of motion for all his arms. The simple clothing was just as well made, and while it didn’t have any of the magical properties of his formal outfit, it was comfortable and should last a long while. At least it would if he didn’t keep growing additional appendages. As he was leaving the shop, one of his crew hailed him.
“Captain Larson, they sent me to find you, sir,” said the sailor, one of the newer crew members, a man named Simon.
“What’s going on, Simon?” Larson asked, readying himself for trouble as he scanned the street for threats.
“It’s Bug Bartholomew, sir. He’s caused some kind of problem over at the alchemist’s shop and the alchemist is demanding you show up with funds to pay for the damages or he’s going to call the guard,” the sailor said.
“Ugh, fine. I’ll head there now. You can return to the ship.” Larson tried to remember the way to Sarvo’s shop from where he currently was. It wasn’t too far from the clothing store and he arrived only a few minutes later to find an angry ogre outside the shop. He was shouting at the shop’s owner, Sarvo, who was shouting right back. The scene would have been comical with the diminutive alchemist shouting at a huge, two-headed ogre, but it wasn’t funny since he was the one that had to deal with it.
“What’s going on here?” Larson said in his best command authority voice.
“Oh, Captain Larson, your ship’s officer made a shambles of my shop. He not only refuses to pay for the damage, but he also keeps trying to get back inside where he’ll, no doubt, wreak even more havoc upon my wares,” Sarvo said, the older man’s face turning beet red with anger.
“Okay, I know your shop is small. Let’s see what the damages are. You,” Larson said, pointing to the ogre, “wait out here until I get back.” He followed Sarvo into the shop.
The door was still on its hinges, but just inside, several display cases had been toppled over, leaving a noxious pool of broken glass and brightly colored liquids scattered about. This wasn’t going to be a cheap or easy fix. Sarvo was running on about the various potions that had been destroyed and how difficult and perhaps even dangerous the cleanup was going to be.
“That is a mess. I’m sorry for my officer’s clumsiness. I’ll take care of the damages, so calm down and deal with this reasonably,” Larson said.
Sarvo turned from the potions and began to rant at Larson once more until he noticed the changes on Larson’s body. “Well, what have we here? Still a water naga, but with enhanced physical modifications. Tell me, Captain, was this a result of some curse, a hidden racial talent, or merely a temporary magical effect of some type? I’ll just have to get a sample. How long ago did the transformation take place? I do hope it was recent. There might still be some of the reagent causing the change to be present in your blood. With the proper care and distillation, I could make a marvelous elixir out of this.” Sarvo, apparently having forgotten the debris around him, rummaged about at the sales counter and came back with a scalpel and several empty vials.
“Woah, hold on there. Let’s have a chat before you come near me with anything sharp.” Larson backed away and narrowly avoided crashing into another display case. He righted the rocking display case, preventing further damage.
“We can discuss restitution for the damages, and as part of that restitution, I’ll need some of your blood and perhaps a few skin, bone, and hair samples,” Sarvo said. Larson summoned his shield and spear. The sudden action caused the alchemist to reel back.
“They’ll be no samples taken until we talk about this. Not only that, my ship’s engineer, the ogre, has some questions for you as well. Hey, now that I think about it, why aren’t you interested in him as much as you are in me? He has two heads and all,” Larson asked.
“Bah, his kind is documented extensively in Berikinian’s dissertation on the ancient ogre kingdoms. Sure, there were many unanswered questions in that work, but the conclusions were accurate and showed little to no alchemical use for any of their bodily components. The old wives’ tale of ogres exploding was put to rest long ago.”
