Iver nodded to Hunter as he instructed Viktor what to do and followed the man below deck, still carrying the Heavy’s massive polearm. The smaller of the two men quickly found a hammock of his own to sprawl out on and leave his traveling sack under. After making claim to the hammock, Iver made his way over to where Acele was now lying down. He handed Viktor his polearm back and pulled a crate over to sit down on next to Acele’s hammock. The least he could do was watch over her while she was asleep and make sure she was alright after her collapse.

The Marine positioned his makeshift chair against a wall so he could lean back a little and rest a bit after the brawl he had been through. He sat there and began to feel the ship start to leave the docks with a sudden shift into a swaying motion. He heard yells of wine from above and allowed a smirk to overcome his face. Of course there would be plenty of alcohol on the ship; they were not actual soldiers under any certain land’s laws, they were mercenaries and only had loyalty to one another.

“Viktor, where are you from again? I’m sorry, but my memory fails me.”

It was true, with the brawl and everything that had happened since the tavern meeting Iver forgot where Viktor said he was from and what his story was; he remembered why he had joined though. Iver allowed his mind to drift, wondering where they were headed or what they were to do once they got there.