Attention to detail was essential in his work; without it, a map was inaccurate, a journey would very likely be led astray, souls had the potential to be lost forever. As she searched for the name, a name he knew was Williams - Kendrick Williams (there was no one else in Costa Duba who had such talent) - Ishaan's gaze flickered over the red dots. They were significant in the desert, by the mountains - no man's land. Potential leads? Past pursuits or missions? Failures?
He looked up as she did and watched as she turned and began to pour the drinks. A second alcoholic beverage, and it wasn't long after lunch. Did he look like he needed one? His jaw was slightly swollen, he had developed some significant dark circles beneath his eyes, and dark stubble had appeared across his cheeks. But was it enough to warrant day drinking? Perhaps.
Her question, a rather innocent question that avoided the elephant in the room, well, it reminded him of their first meeting. A smirk appeared across his lips and he watched her intently, taking the glass from her once offered. "Can't complain," he responded, taking a sip of the rich liquid. "And yourself, Captain?" The man asked, deciding to play along.
"Can't complain? Really?" Klaire narrowed her eyes, taking another sip of her drink and holding it up. There was also a smile on her lips; if he was in a good enough mood to dance around the subject, there was still hope for her.
Klaire changed the weight on her legs, her fingers trailing over the edge of the textured table. There were a million ways she could go about it: If her father was captain he would quickly bring up the contract, her uncle would likely offer Ishaan more money. Klaire had been coming up with a strategy of her own, but her gut told her to improvise.
"Yes really. Today I can't complain." Again, ignoring the mental and physical fatigue, the swollen jaw, the slight headache...
Her next words were quite forthcoming, though obvious. His smirk faltered, turning into something less sly, and more bittersweet? "I know you do. And I know that I said I would." That I'd signed my name, that I'd promised. He paused, trying to find the right words, and unable to do so. "But..." The dreaded word. "I don't know if I'm built for this."
"Why did you say yes?" Klaire asked, and her expression hardened. "I told you it'd be dangerous, you know where we are going. A couple punches and it's not worth it anymore?" It wasn't supposed to come off as an offense, but if Ishaan took it that way, Klaire wouldn't apologize for it. She needed a reason, and she knew money wasn't the only one.
Now that was a response he hadn't been expecting. A perfectly valid, assertive response from someone he hardly knew, and yet he was still caught off guard. Not that he'd let it show.
His smile faded, and he placed the glass firmly on the table, allowing silence to fill the room. Tense silence.
"The money, naturally. And the contract, of course. One that clearly outlined my duties, and yours, as my employer. And yet you were unable to uphold your end of the bargain." He paused, gathering his breath, before continuing. "Now, I do recall you mentioning that it'd be dangerous - you are correct. I also recall mention of ten highly trained officers that would ensure my safety. Ironic, isn't it?"
"Captain Byrn, I try to be a fair and honourable man. So no, it's not the punches that have deterred me, but rather the inability of my employer to uphold the contractual agreement."
His voice was assertive, his words were sharp, and if he hadn't been listing all her most recent shortcommings Klaire would have found it attractive. She downed the rest of her liquor, placing the cup on the table as Ishaan was done speaking.
"I promised I'd get you home - and I will. I never said you wouldn't get hurt." Despite her attempt at apathy, resentment leaked through her words. Ishaan was right, about all of it, but she was prepared to hear it and she was done with the self pity. "I'm ready to die for you if it means bringing the thousands of pirates hiding in Armadilla to justice. I know you care about that, and it's not just the money." Klaire walked around the table to reach his side, leaving her glass behind.
"We can do something big, Ishaan." Klaire said, softer, but still far from being a plea. She searched his eyes, trying to speak to his heart. "You're at risk, and I'm sorry. But you can help me with this or go back to your shop, knowing there are innocent people being murdered for coin every day and you did nothing to stop it."
He spoke of fairness and honour, yet why did he feel like the villain in this situation? Why was she making him out to be the villain? The coward who wanted to chose self-preservation, who suddenly felt like he'd taken his boring life for granted?
A villain or a savior. Safety and security or the opportunity to do something greater. The opportunity to extinguish the fire that'd been set fifteen years ago.
He was fortunate that he could still picture their faces. He still remembered their smiles.
"Don't put this on me," Ishaan replied quietly, taking a step away from the table. "Three days ago, I knew nothing of this. My greatest concern was making sure I remembered to lock the door."
"You absolutely flipped my life upside down. I am no hero. I am not responsible. Please don't paint that picture."
Ishaan sounded defeated, but Klaire didn't get any satisfaction from it. She leaned her hip against the table, watching him create more distance between them.
"It's not fair, I know." She said, staring at the back of his head while hoping to meet his eyes again. "It's not fair that you lost your parents and became the disciple of the most brilliant astronomer in the world. It's not fair that he died, and you're the only person he shared his knowledge with." Klaire's hands held tightly to the edge of the table, holding her back from once again invading his personal space. "You are not responsible, but you can be a hero. And that's something only you can do."
A pause, a moment of consideration, despite the inevitable decision. Not for her, or anyone else on this blasted ship, or even the thousands of victims. Not directly for himself, but for those he had lost. Once he'd made his decision, silently within himself, Ishaan turned to face Klaire, hands joining together behind his back. "And how long will we be staying in Brimstone before departing for the desert?"
Finally, victory. Klaire bit her lip to stop the smile from showing, while a heavy weight was lifted from her shoulders.
"Two, three days tops. I want to get going as quickly as possible." Other than the matter of the three replacements, there was no need for them to have a long stay at Brimstone. "Come here."
Klaire turned around, facing the map table. Ishaan had probably noticed the red tokens placed on the desert, but she wanted to show him. She wanted to let him know those failed missions didn't lead up to nothing. "This is what we have registered so far. These-" She pointed at the ones shaped like a cross. "Are the danger zones. Known ambushes, snake nests and so on." Most of the tokens were cross shaped, but two of them had a round edge. "These are water sources."
Once again by her side, Ishaan placed his hands on the edge of the table and leaned into it, eyes trained on the symbols she described. There had certainly been many ambushes; far more ambushes than water sources, though that was expected in the desert. "Any theories on where the city is?" Or were they truly going in blindly.
Klaire showed him everything - the area of the desert that had already been explored, the notes, the maps, every bit of information that had come from the failed missions. They had dinner at the tables covered in books and parchments, and split ways to each of their rooms when exhaustion took over.
It was easy for Klaire to fall asleep this time, a deep, dreamless sleep. She woke up at dawn without any sort of alarm and left to the main deck, meeting her quartermaster at the helm and dismissing him so he could get a few hours of sleep.
Spring in Brimstone was almost as cold as winter in Costa Duba. The colored dots in front of the mountain range turned into humble houses, surrounding a huge fortress that protected and commanded the area. It would take only one hour to get to port, and by the time the rest of the crew woke up Klaire would have already anchored the ship to their destination.
The Dragonfly had anchored in Brimstone when the powerful knock on his cabin door echoed throughout the room. It was the second wake-up knock since boarding the ship; he'd been expected to rise and join Rowan on his own accord after the first night. Today must be different. The voice on the other side informed him that they had arrived, that his training would occur later, but that he was needed in town. He rose and dressed himself, an uneasiness growing in the pit of his stomach. This was their last stop, their last safe stop.
Emerging onto the deck, Ishaan joined many of the others, gaze wandering over to the crumbling city that stretched beyond. He'd been three years old when his parents had journeyed through Brimstone and he remembered next to nothing about it. There was no doubt in his mind that it'd be ingrained his memory now; it could very well be the last city he'd lay his eyes on. And so he watched and took it all in, waiting for his command.
---
After waking the navigator, Rowan had descended into the depths of the ship with two other men to extract their prisoners. Shackled for their crime, the trio emerged slowly into the dim sunshine and towards the plank that connected the ship with the port. Beyond, there would be fellow officers waiting to escort the cook and his lackeys to their temporary home as they awaited their trial.
"Morning, princess!" Rob greeted with a smile, seeing as Ishaan had once again been the last to join the crew. Civilians weren't used to such a strict regimen so it was to be expected, but it was still fun to mock him for it. "Did you get your beauty sleep in?"
"Good, you're all here." Hofer said in a monotone, with the usual frown on his face. "Boxes marked with a red stamp go to the gun deck, blue stamp goes in storage." The plank was already in place, and the quartermaster led the way down to land. A group of Fir Bolgs waited for them by the pile of boxes, the only one wearing a uniform being a tall blonde woman, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes were vibrant emerald green and her sharp teeth welcomed the crew of the Dragonfly with a smile.
***
After making sure the knot tying the Dragonfly to port was secure, Klaire accompanied Rowan downstairs to retrieve the prisoners from the brig. Lucky for them, the time behind bars seemed to have served to humble them into compliance, making the process of getting them out the brig with hands tied behind their backs a troubleless one.
Coffelt had kept his head down all the way, and as good minions, the other two behaved similarly. Klaire looked back in time to see Ishaan join the officers, that had been left under Hofer's care while she and Rowan dealt with the criminals.
"Captain Byrn. Master Adfir." The Fir Bolg officer said with a salute.
"General Callahan." Klaire put her hand out for a handshake, looking up at the woman who stood at least 1 foot taller than her. Her shoulders were broad, broader than most men in her crew, but it didn't make her any less feminine. Her smile widened.
"Always do - you, on the other hand..." Ishaan jabbed back, a broad smile appearing on his previously downcast face. Joining the rest of the crew, the two crossed the plank, and for the first time in a couple days, the man felt the soles of his feet press into the dust-ridden earth. A small thing, but one he wouldn't take for granted given what awaited beyond Brimstone. Despite the task ahead - a rather labour intensive task so early in the morning - he felt his dark gaze gravitate towards the small gathering beside the boxes. At first, they settled on Coffelt and his lackeys, then on the Captain, Rowan, the towering general, and the rest of the Fir Bolgs. The woman they were speaking to was even taller than Rowan - not entirely surprising or out of the ordinary, but she certainly commanded attention. Grabbing one of the boxes, Ishann hoisted it up and began to walk back up, careful not to lose his footing or make a fool of himself otherwise.
---
The General's hand was firm and calloused, much like his own. With a slight nod, Rowan extracted his hand and folded it behind his back, joining the other. The man had been to Brimstone many times over his career, but it remained as bleak as ever. It certainly wouldn't be on his list of destinations to vacation in - that is, if he ever went on vacation. "Thank you, General."
He paused, sparing a glance towards the prisoners. "Apologies for the extra mouths to feed," he said plainly. The navy base, or rather, the buildings, were not far off from port. Given the severity of three naval officers being charged with assault, they would likely be processed there, and later detained while awaiting their trial. Fortunately, that wouldn't be their problem.