Alastair leant against one of the ship’s sides, strategically placed so that he could lean over and puke if he suddenly had the urge. The wind was fairly soft that morning but carried with it a surprisingly cold chill despite the open skies. Typical sea weather. It actually felt quite nice to Alastair, with the breeze on his skin giving him a slight feeling of sobriety. He let out a nasty burp and held his stomach, but luckily nothing appeared to follow it up. “Definitely not drinking again… not anytime soon anyway.” He grumbled to a nearby sailor, earning the slightest of smiles in response. With the sudden appearance of Emilio and the young man’s body, Alastair quickly straightened up his stance. He watched quietly as the captain performed the ceremony for Pablo, and felt a rather overwhelming sense of empathy. He knew all too well the pain of losing others – he had lost his family and, over the years, most of his friends. He felt his stomach sink and knot as he held back his own tears, forcing his memories back down into the recesses of his mind.
“We’ll make those responsible pay tenfold for the blood that was spilt last night.” Hissed the nearby sailor, thankfully interrupting Alastair’s thoughts. This time it was Alastair’s turn to give a slight smile in response. He might have thought of something to add but instead his attention was turned back to Emilio and his speech.
He was fascinated by talk of the monster from last night, this
’Harbinger’. He had heard the name before, but never attached to a being of this description. A being of spiritual and corporeal energy? That went some way towards explaining why it looked so fascinating through his Raven’s Eye, but still left him with far more questions than answers. He wished there was some remains of the Harbinger for him to study, but either others had quickly cleaned it up or it was entirely destroyed by the magical blast. In fact the mage who destroyed the Harbinger was just as fascinating to him. He looked over to the young woman who was now warning the crew of the impending pirate attack, and wondered what her origins were. She clearly possessed a kind of magic that he was entirely unfamiliar with, and he pondered whether or not she would be familiar with his. The only thing worse than not knowing a potential opponent was a potential opponent knowing you. Not interested in getting to work on repairs like many others, Alastair then considered sneaking back off towards the lower decks. He would go and try to seek out Leonard and make sure that his fellow Brit hadn't passed away during the night.
As he waited for Artemisia to return, Omero took in his surroundings. The burnt bitch had sustained heavy damage during the fight with the harbinger but the crew had done a good job with repairs. The various crew members were preparing themselves for the imminent pirate attack and were rushing to and fro to make sure preparations were complete. However Omero sudden realisation of the intense heat from the sun distracted him from his observation of the ship. Omero silently swore to himself. Perhaps if the monks and nuns had allowed him outside more often has a child he would be able to cope with the sun better. Though Omero could deal with the heat he knew that his very pale skin would not endure well in this sunlight. Given his current circumstances the last thing Omero wanted was serve sunburn and the only thing that had prevented this previously was his cloak and hat. Both of which had been left down in the ship’s make shift surgery. Omero begrudgingly decided it would be best to collect them now rather than later. At that moment Artemisia approached him and handed a bread roll which she had been carrying in her hand. Once Omero took the bread Artemisia started to speak.
"Here, you are. I ran into a funny man downstairs in the galley there. I'll tell you later about it as I noticed that the captain is on deck and I want to go speak with him while I have the chance." Omero didn't even have a chance to respond before she had made her way up to the main deck to where the captain was. Clearly something had gained her attention. Omero started to eat his bread roll as he slowly made his way down to the surgery.
As Alastair carefully crossed the deck he caught sight of another man walking with equal caution and stiffness. The man ahead of him seemed to be suffering from injury rather than a hangover though. On closer glance it appeared to be the inquisitor whom Alastair had been content to avoid so far. "Better him than me." he grumbled under his breath, finding it hard to feel any sympathy for the man. Alastair had seen first-hand what the order, and any religious zealots for that matter, were capable of. He took a deep breath and forced his mind to block out various memories from surfacing, yet he could still feel a tearful glaze fill his eyes regardless. Not wanting to slowly overtake the man and risk a conversation, Alastair unintentionally followed
'Omato' (or was it 'Ormelo'?) from a short distance. It was an uncomfortable walk and Alastair was dismayed whenever the inquisitor took a turn that he himself wanted to make. Unfortunately the two of them clearly had the same destination and Alastair found himself reluctantly entering the surgery after him.
As Omero made his way down to the surgery he took note that his wound was certainly getting better, he was now walking again without much difficultly. Omero breathed a sigh of relief; if the pirates were to show up then Omero was confident that he would still be able to fight. As Omero continued on his way down, he quickly realised that he was being followed. Whoever it was, they were carefully keeping behind Omero and trying not to be noticed. Unfortunately for them, Omero had a lot of training and experience for identifying when he was being followed. As Omero entered the surgery he sharply looked behind him giving a cold stare to the man whom had been following him. The man looked like he was in his mid-forties and had grey hair with a somewhat neat beard. His presence made Omero suspicious, as far as Omero knew he had no purpose being here.
“And why are you here, if I might ask?” Omero spoke politely, yet he also placed a tone of authority behind his voice.
Alastair let out a long internal sigh as the inquisitor confronted him. It was inevitable though. "I've come to check up on Leonard," he replied with a nod in the aforementioned's direction, his tone slightly dismissive. "I believe he took a beating in the fight last night. Just wanted to make sure he was ok."
"He's out at the moment. I'll be able to better evaluate his condition when he comes to." Interjected the Surgeon. Alastair eyed up the large mutton chopped man, slightly surprised at his appearance. The surgeon did not say anything more however, seemingly too busy with other matters to stop and chatter to the pair.
"In that case I should probably take my leave." he said politely to them both, not wanting to be questioned further by the inquisitor. Besides from that, the surgery was not the most pleasant of places. The stench of blood and vomit forever lingered around the room, their sources forever stained on the wooden floors despite whatever cleaning efforts had been made. There was also something unsettling about seeing men cling onto life; it reminded onlookers of their own morality. For someone of Alastair's age, that was something that he needed no reminder of.
"How exactly have you come to know 'Leonard'" Omero said as he walked over to his hat and cloak that still lay in a crumpled mess on the floor. Though the man's excuse for being here seemed genuine enough, he suddenly seemed quick to want to leave once Omero had seen him. Though having thought that, Omero reflected that the Surgery wasn't exactly the nicest place to have to stay.
The dreaded follow up question. Of course leaving wasn't going to be that easy.
"We drunk and fought together last night." Alastair replied with a shrug, realising that he didn't really know Leonard. A few drunken stories hardly gave a full picture after all. "Besides from that, it's only right that we look after one and other... we're all on the same side after all?" It was a rhetoric question, but Alastair was still interested to see how the man would react. If he was going to be drawn into a conversation with this man, he would at least learn more about his intentions and demeanour. He glanced at the mans clothing, recognising the cloak. He was familiar with the attire, knowing it signified a specialist group within the Church, but knew little else.
"A fair point, though perhaps a naive one, afterall, wasn't Ceasar Luna suppose to be on our side"? Omero said as he let a small smile come to his face, "and we know how that turned out". Omero started to put on his cloak and hat, as he lifted them he saw that his rapier and crossbow were underneath them. It appeared that the sailor's must have brought them in here as well.
As Omero innocently picked up his rapier, Alastair found his own hand subconsciously reaching for his weapon. His hand settled lightly on the cold bronze pommel of his khopesh, ready to quickly draw the weapon should the need arise. A bead of sweat began to form on his hairline. It wasn't that he didn't trust the inquisitor (although he didn't), but he found himself cautious whenever anyone nearby drew a weapon. He had enough experience to know that even the most innocent of people could turn nasty in the blink of an eye.
"A fair enough point." Alastair admitted. "So what is your business aboard the Burned Bitch Master...?" he paused for a moment but did not give the recipient a chance to respond or give his name before light-heartedly adding: "Not conspiring with Luna to bring us all down I hope?"
Omero gave a light laugh before answering
"Certainly not, despite both of us being from the church, Luna strike me more as a man who is more interested in serving his own selfish will than he is serving the will of god”. Omero paused for a minute before continuing. “Unfortunately I find that description now seems to fit a lot of high ranking members of the church” a sudden pang of sadness hit Omero as he reflected over his last comment. Had his faith in the church truly fallen so far? But now was not the time to ponder such things. Omero had to answer the man’s first question and Omero had to come up with a good enough lie to convince him.
“My name is Omero by the way, and as for why I am here, I am simply a preacher trying to proclaim the word of the lord to the people of Sintra. Afterall their faith in god will now be low after the pain they have suffered at the hands of the dragon”. Omero paused before changing his demeanour to a more humorous one. “Or rather claws instead of hands or maybe talons…”
Alastair was slightly intrigued by Omero's apparent lack of confidence in his superiors, and wondered for a moment whether he was as spiteful as others in his order. Then again, his disliking of his superiors could just as easily be down to him finding them not zealous and punitive enough. "I'm afraid I didn't get a very close glimpse at the beast's feet. All I saw that day was fire and death." Alastair's somewhat grim response counteracted Omero's humorous tone, although it was not intentional. "...I did get a good look at the Harbinger though. Tell me, have you ever come across such a monster before?"
Omero had finished putting his on his cloak and hat and was now strapping his rapier to his side as he turned to face the man.
“I am Fortunate to say I have never come across such a creature before” Omero said. In fact that was the truth. Despite his many years with fighting against the supernatural the Harbinger had been something of an anomaly.
“Forgive me, what did you say your name was again”? Omero said trying to divert the attention away from Omero on back onto the man. Omero could tell that this man had a sharp mind and that if he continued to ask Omero questions he would soon realise that Omero was lying. That is if he didn’t know already.
"Alastair." he replied with a small smile. "May I ask what brought you to Sintra?" Alastair was as keen to divert the questions back to Omero. Alastair did not like lying, and in situations like this he simply tried to avoid saying much at all. As the inquisitor began to reply Alastair subtly moved back into the doorway, leaning up against the rough wooden frame. He felt a few splinters pierce his jacket as he rubbed against them. Not only did moving provide him with a bit more stability as the ship rolled over the waves, but it was his way of slowly creeping away from this uncomfortable encounter.
"A group of cultists were causing havoc around the Portuguese countryside. I was sent to help those who had been devastated by the carnage. Once the cult fled into Morocco I decided to stop off in Sintra before heading back to Rome”. Omero noticed that Alastair was slowly edging towards the door. It was clear that Omero’s presence made him feel uncomfortable. Did he who Omero truly was? If he did then it was suspicious how he was behaving. However Omero had more important thing to have to worry about at the moment, what with the approaching pirate attack.
“Anyway I am sure you have more important things to attend to rather than waste time talking to me” Omero said. “Hopefully we will be able to continue this latter considering we survive the pirates”.
There was a short but lingering pause.
"...Yes, I should begin getting ready myself." Alastair replied with a tiny shake of his head, as if he were suddenly awoken from a trance. There was a suddenly a new look his eyes, a mixture of both fear and curiosity. Without saying anything else Alastair rolled off the doorframe and begun silently walking away, deep in thought.
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