Heavy footsteps emanated from down the hallway as a familiar voice filled the air.
”Yes, I’m afraid the captain has his own duties to look after, as do we all…”
Vargas entered from the hallway and made his way round to the head of the table and sat as Jonesy opened a small window just behind his seat. A bit of ventilation to keep the room from becoming too stifling.
”Sir.” Ba'ku said, bowing slightly as he entered the room.
” Yes, thank you Ba’ku. That will be all.” Vargas said as he spread out his silverware and placed his napkin in his lap. Ba’ku nodded and bowed slightly and then made his exit. ”Right. Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?” he said as he began slicing into the Cornish hen and taking a healthy bite. It was quite good, but like always Jonesy had perhaps used a pinch too much pepper. Vargas visibly made a note of this as he paused his chewing briefly, though he continued to slice at the carcass for more.
Maréngo stopped dead and eyed their employer up and down with no small amount of surprise. The veritable feast in front of him lay forgotten as he stared at the rather unexpected addition to the table.
”I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely honest with all of you, and for good reason, mind you.” he said, shoving a quartered russet into his mouth. He gave himself a moment to process it before continuing on. ”My apologies for that, but I had to make sure that we were well away from prying ears before I could disclose any further information as to our true purposes here.” Y’Vanna’s brow raised with great inquiry
”But I thought...” Y’Vanna was quickly cut off as Vargas continued.
”Yes dear, I’m quite sure you did… but this matter was of the utmost secrecy, so I hope you will overlook this deceiving obfuscation. It was most pertinent that none of you know the true efforts of this venture.” he said as he continued to enjoy his fowl. Jonesy began to go around the table to fill everyone’s glasses. There were choices of the spiced rum, sherry, or white wine. Vargas had the white, of course, and as Jonesy made his way next to Y’Vanna she was quick to lift her glass as her mouth frothed for the rum. She then remembered Solange’s scolding from earlier.
”Sherry please..” she said flatly, and without a lick of glee as she glanced at Solange with sharp eyes. Jonesy filled her glass and continued around the table to Solange. Y’Vanna sat her glass down and started in on her hen as well. Her gut was usually full with grog or worse and was now left a gaping hole that needed filling.
Maréngo shook his head glumly as Jonesy made his way over.
”In fact, I haven’t been honest about a great many things, and who I really am and what I do are among those things.” he paused, taking a sip of his wine. ”This is something that I shall remedy immediately. I am Lord Vargas, my name is in fact Vargas, and I am a Lord. Not in the same sense of the silly title you all like to think I project upon myself. No, not at all… I am not a well to do fence who is well connected and well cultured. Well, that is to say that I am not just that, but that it is, or was, but a means with which to perform my own duties as a Lord in what is simply known as The Order..and we are the most capable, and trusted servants appointed by The Keepers themselves. Most of our duties are clerical, and much of our time has been spent studying old histories and accounts therein. One most specifically… but some of our other duties are much more laborious. Vargas paused once more to wet his lips and tongue once more with the wine.
”Might I ask, are any of you familiar with the story of Merrick, The Virtuous? It’s our most common story and the birthing of our religion. Now I know you all aren’t the most religious lot I’ve ever run across, but I’m sure you’ve at least heard it mentioned before.” he said, as he sliced one of the scallops in half before eating it.
"It rings a bell," Maréngo replied hesitantly, but what does any of that mess have to do with us and our job?"
This was starting to sound like a very complicated situation instead of a simple errand pilfering lost ruins. Things had already gotten rather messy before the task had even really started.
”I’m so glad you asked. You see, it turns out that Razmu’dai was in fact real and Merrick did defeat him and all of his dark lords. Over the ages there have been attempts to raise Razmu’dai by religious zealots and cultists alike, but to no avail. Their attempts have been thwarted thus far but there has been a gain in traction as there have been some… recent developments.” he said, still carving at the carcass on his plate. ”Which brings us to you, The Party. Had there not been such a time constraint I could’ve perhaps prepared a bit better, but here we are. It has come to the Order’s attention that The Black Hands have been enlisted by a cultist group, mostly unknown, and there are also concerns that The Black Lion Trading Company is also on the hunt. There are certain artifacts that we, The Order, have gone to great lengths to keep hidden and out of reach. One of these items was a book that had a bit of useful info on how to find it. They are trying to find the pieces of Razmu’dai’s Gauntlet of Power, which was separated into six pieces. If they find all of these pieces and can put them back together then they will be able to summon Razmu’dai back from his bannishment, and that is bad news for all of us.”
Y’Vanna’s eyes grew wide. ”Feckin hell.. Don’t you suppose that’s a bit more than we are qualified for? I mean, don’t you think we’re a bit outmatched here?”
”Yes. You are outmatched and outmanned, by men that are better suited than yourselves. We don’t have the luxury of picking our opponents, nor do we have the time to do better. You may all think that greatness is an unobtainable virtue for a bunch such as yourselves, but is it? Or perhaps has your environment merely impeded your progress in becoming great? At any rate we do not have a choice. I mean, if any of you would like to take up in Raven’s Cliff and drink away humanity’s last days, you’re more than welcome to do so. But if we do nothing our fates will surely be sealed, as well as everyone else's.” Vargas said encouragingly. ”And you’ll be happy to know that you do not owe me a single coin for this, and what I have given to you is but a sign on payment for your services. I had to keep all of this secret back in Guillan, and I had to make sure that I had at least some measure of character when trying to put together a party, so I wanted to see if you’d still seek riches if it first costed you, and further that you would agree to pay it back. Though it isn’t much, it’s what I had to work with in the time I had been allotted. We had to do something soon as I’ve already gotten word from a trusted liazone that The Black Lion Trading Company has already landed on Gnok and have begun excavating the temple so time was of the essence.”
Skarsat had taken place at the opposite head of the table from where his frame not only bulged over the wooden seat, but also filled out the width of the table they were seated at with relative ease. Unlike certain other individuals who had apparently decided to dress up with what looked like the finest clothes reasonably available and who had fallen victim to his gaze tracking them from pretty much the earliest possible moment onwards for exactly that reason, the Tork had decided to keep things in simple linen. Fresh linen, that was. Even he had not wanted to come to the Captain's dinner as a stinky, dirty fish from below.
If it only had been a Captain's dinner...
By the time Vargas had made his entrance, Skarsat had already piled up a quite staggering amount of meat on his plate. Now he left it to cool down while he could feel his own mood heat up. A large number of thoughts rushed into his mind, a plethora of negative emotions which he decided to summarize in a few, aggressively uttered words: "This is ridiculous!"
Skarsat dumped the fork and knife still in his hands onto the table to the left and right of his plate, then put his hands together and formed an interleaved ball of fingers that had enough pressure in it to make their knuckles crack. "No, I'm not talking about the possibility of some shitty trading company or unknown entrepreneur trying to wipe out everything. People have tried that one way or the other for too many reasons to count since forever, right ? I'm talking about you and whatever kind of organization you claim to represent."
”Ah, there it is.. Finally! Some genuine outrage.” Vargas said, setting his fork and knife to rest on his plate. He wiped the corners of his mouth with his setting cloth. He let his hands rest in his lap as he allowed Skarsat to get it all out.
The ball of Skarsat’s fingers exploded, one hand retreating to some point below the table where Skarsat started some frantic stress relief action with his fingers, the other utilized to count the items on the list by raising one of its long fingers after the other. "First of all, the whole business you presented us with did look like a criminal affair, right ? Secondly, we are criminals and you had to know that well before hiring us. Then, just in order to send us on that kind of challenge you've been speaking about, you happily accepted cannonballing the damn harbor as if that wouldn't raise plenty of attention to our cause. Oh and don't tell me you didn't happily accept or even order that: It's pretty clear the captain of this vessel eats straight out of your hands, otherwise he'd not miss his own dinner! And finally, just for good measure, you overruled the schedule and decided to let Neh'miah's body rot just that bit further while you talk about your own importance instead of just giving him the proper burial as soon as possible!"
Skarsat ventilated his lungs, probably enough that those sitting the closest to him had a chance to feel the stream of warm air gently touching their elbows. He only did so however in preparation for a final barrage of words: "I beg your pardon that I shall regard you as nothing more than the big fat scoundrel you've quite successfully pretended to be so far, and that I shall also regard your entire talk about 'The Order' or 'The Keepers' as nothing but just one possible truth among many others until you present me with a lot more proof than just words. Luckily however I do not see much change on the low level of our mission yet: Our destination hasn't changed, nor has the fact that others might not be hesitant to kill us for what we're attempting to do. If coin is only the secondary and saving the world is the real payment for our endeavor, then that's a quite positive thing. The only positive thing I can actually see right now..."
Apart from the food, of course. Skarsat now picked up his fork again and rammed it through the first piece of meat right until it hit the plate underneath. Knives were an expendable commodity if one had good enough teeth. And, quite luckily, good tasting meat was a globally understood standard much unlike religion. He was a Tork and not from this part of the world after all.
”Unfortunately for us, what you regard me as matters little to our plight as it stands to unfold as I’ve stated should we do nothing. As for my being in arms with criminals as the fence you all know me to be, I ask you… what better way is there to put an ear to the ground, hmm? If you were charged with keeping lucrative items out of the hands of evil men, then where, pray tell good Tork, where should one rub shoulders?” Vargas said. His tone was slightly condescending but he wasn’t overtly being rude either. He took another sip of the wine to wet his mouth. ”As you will come to find out, most of us who are tasked as being members of the Order are hardly righteous zealots nor are we criminals. I was chosen because I’m extremely resourceful.. And I’m relentless in all of my endeavors. I did not come from the chapel, I was not birthed into religion and placed accordingly, nor do I need any help acquiring revenue, and one must use unorthodox methods to get the job done. The Order is full of people like me, with a wide range of skills suitable for the tasks we oversee. But you are right my hefty fellow, you are free to perceive me as whatever you see fit, and I promise you… you will have your proof soon enough. Rest assured.”
Maréngo could only sit quietly and stare as his fellow scoundrel gave Vargas a verbal lashing. Partly because the sudden outburst caught him off guard and also because he was still weighing the massive ramifications of everything that had just been revealed. At the end of the day, Maréngo was a pirate. He took what he wanted at the point of a sword or the barrel of a gun and gave none back as is the way of his kind. He had never given much thought to the greater good or helping his fellow man beyond his immediate (and sometimes temporary) allies or the occasional beggar who looked just too pitiful to ignore. He wasn't one for righteous causes, but above all he loved adventure. He loved to tell and hear stories of grand successes and daring deeds from those he met on his travels. How could he pass up such a grand adventure? Not to mention he had more practical reasons.
"I dunno about you lot," Maréngo stood and placed his hand flat on the table as he addressed the room. "but I think I rather like the world not bein' ended. The world has all of me favorite things like drinkin', and gamblin', fuckin', fightin', sailin'... and... you get the point. Also, we still get paid." He turned to Vargas and raised an expectant eyebrow. "We still get paid, right?"
”Indeed you do.” Vargas said, raising his glass in return.
”And, as promised, there will be plenty of loot for your trinket loving fingers.. The Order only cares about our relics, the rest of whatever else you find is entirely yours to keep, no strings attached. To further explain my deceit, I needed criminals.. How else could I infiltrate such a well organized group as The Black Hands without looking and fitting the part?” He took another bite of the hen before addressing the Tork once more. ”Which brings me to our dearest friend Neh’miah…” Vargas said. ’There is a huge cemetery and catacombs at the temple on Gnok. You all will escort his remains to the temple burial grounds and lay him to rest there. Talk of necromancy has been coming from the island since the excavations started and we will need an excuse to approach the grounds. Neh’miah in his death has provided us such an excuse, and for that I am truly grateful. Once we get to Gnok we will acquire a wagon at the docks as well as a suitable box for his remains.. Ba’ku also wanted me to inform you that he and his men did in fact keep their word, and have prepared his remains with the utmost respect. They also took the liberty of removing his organs so that the stench of his rotting corpse won't be too much of a burden for you on the journey. Corpses don't fare all that well in tropical climates and Ba’ku and his men have gone to great lengths to make the journey as pleasant as it could possibly be for you all. It will take several days to reach the temple on foot so I hope you all appreciate their labors.’
Solange was thankful for her companions if only for the fact that their existence gave her time to process and unpetrify her body. From the moment Vargas entered the room, she’d found herself frozen in her seat, unmoving except for the frantic darting of her eyes away from the man in an attempt to hide the fact that she was panicking and then back to him to search his face for any of the nonexistent signs that he was lying. She had hated “Lord” Vargas, but the actual Lord Vargas had managed to completely fool her—that alone made him so much more dangerous. The things Vargas said about Razmu’dai did not help one tiny bit. In fact, she felt her throat run dry, but her hand still couldn’t find a way to move away from her knife to grab her glass of sherry.
These days Solange liked presenting herself as a hoity-toity city dweller who, with the exception of Voi, only invoked the gods when she publicly wanted to damn them or privately wanted a favor. However, her childhood in the country had given wandering priests and pilgrims of the All-Seer plenty of time to fill her mind with fears of the God of Darkness and Evil. Hearing someone she had thought of at once as at least mildly intelligent boldly claim that Razmu’dai was actually real instead of just part of some sort of allegory might’ve hit her fairly hard, except the person in question had just revealed himself to be either prone to grand flights of fantasies or exceptionally good at hiding the truth.
Solange found herself agreeing with Skarsat: this was ridiculous. Her agreeing with that awful, violent animal of a man was proof alone of how ludicrous all of this was. Lord Vargas was a liar and to trust him was to be an idiot. At first she couldn’t believe how the others appeared willing to continue with their journey, but then she realized the situation. Had the others realized it before her? The actual reason he’d kept the whole thing a secret while back in the city. They were on his ship surrounded by his crew, and on the off-chance that some parts of what he said were true then he wouldn’t let them leave the boat alive unless he believed they were still onboard with his plan.
She felt her fingers finally flex free of their stasis and grab her glass of sherry. She took a small, delicate sip, set the glass down, and began carving away at the cornish hen before her with her utensils. Solange hoped that the others had failed to notice her brief catatonic state and instead would only notice her now as she attempted to appear unphased, as if everything Vargas had revealed to them was old news. She gingerly dabbed at her lips with her napkin and turned in her chair to look up at Maréngo.
“You were promised a split of any potential treasure, my love. There was never any guarantee that you would get paid,” said Solange with a confident smile. She held up her hand to prevent any outburst as she continued. “However, you are now working for one of the wealthiest and most powerful organizations in the land. We’ll talk compensation in a moment, but first and foremost I would like to apologize for our little smoke and mirrors act. You see, I told my Lord that we should’ve been open about all of this from the start, but he was worried that the walls in the Faded Lantern might have too many ears.”
“I thought he was being too cautious, but then the Sheriff came for us.” She pretended to choke up, reaching out to place her hand atop Vargas’s hand. “You were so wise to keep this a secret from the others, my Lord. I can only imagine the amount of danger we would’ve been in if our actual plans had been known. Still, we are sorry for the dishonesty, aren’t we, my Lord?” The way she squeezed his hand felt as if she was issuing him a challenge to call her out as she turned back to the others. “Only the honest truth from here on out, loves.”
“Oh but your payment!” Solange acted as if she’d been so caught up in the apology that she’d forgotten about Maréngo’s question. She smiled, sat back in her chair, and peaked her fingers. “Due to the increased stakes of our journey, my Lord will generously be offering the four of us a daily stipend of gold to support us on our important mission.” She slowly turned her head towards Vargas. “How much was it again, my Lord? A hundred…a hundred fifty?”
”Indeed, Solange… no need to be patronizing or keeping up with charades any longer.” he said with a forced smirk. ”I’d be surprised if you lot could survive long enough to spend what’s already in your pockets… let’s work on surviving this ordeal before we get too far ahead of ourselves. Once we’ve survived we can discuss like fat pigs what to do with the slop, and you all can go back to whatever pettiness it is that suits you..” He looked dead in Solange’s eyes as he spoke.
”So long as there’s still a world to do it in, that is.”
