Morning brought a fresh headache. Roy tried to avoid Keeper altogether, but a different crisis strolled in through the northern gate. A wagon caravan full of half-beastfolk. Sharkfolk, foxfolk, catfolk, all rumbled into the outer courtyard, their wrists chained together. An unknown band of armed slavers accompanied them, all swagger and sneers. The lead slaver hopped down, declaring they were just passing through, goods already sold.
Roy clenched his teeth at the word "goods." He recognized that hollow, hopeless look in the prisoners' eyes. He stepped forward, pushing past onlookers.
"Name a price, I'll pay," he said, voice tight. "I want to free them, all of them."
The slaver shrugged. "Thanks, but no. Already sold. If you want to negotiate, go talk to the buyer in Noctara. We're just stopping here to water the horses before we reach the next rest spot in Midmoon."
The wagons rattled further in, beastfolk staring out with a flicker of desperate hope as they noticed the city's free ex-slaves sporting healing scars from where their chains used to be. Roy turned and locked eyes with Lutrian and Eryndra, both having quietly approached.
"We're not letting them vanish," Roy growled. "We track them to Midmoon and then to Noctara and do whatever it takes. Buy them, trade, I don't care. But no way in hell I let them ride off without even trying."
Lutrian exhaled, raking a hand through his hair. "Noctara's the Umbral Consortium's capital, my hometown. Midmoon is the satellite town close by it. They'll love seeing you waltz in, trying to upend their deals. Prepare for trouble."
Eryndra just shrugged, eyes glinting. "All the more reason to go, if you ask me."
Takara trotted up, gauntlets clacking. "I'm, uh, I'll be there for support..." She gave a lopsided grin. "I'll do what I can."
Roy nodded firmly, snapping open a portable communicator. "Washington, get the Super Elites and Elites ready for immediate departure. Teddy, Lincoln, be at battle readiness, but we keep it peaceful unless absolutely forced."
He glanced around, half expecting Keeper's smug face. Nothing. Good. He had bigger priorities right now.
By midday, the slavers rolled out, heading inland toward Noctara. Roy planned to follow by the wide river that goes far inland now that Serenity has mastered navigation. Lutrian mentioned that Midmoon has a small port to dock at.
Roy watched the chained beastfolk drift away, remembering all too well what it felt like to be powerless.
"All right, people," he murmured, turning to his crew. "We move out. One way or another, we're getting those folks out of chains."
-
Roy leaned on the Nightshatter's bridge railing, watching the rolling riverbanks drift by. The morning sun glinted on the water, reflecting back in golden ripples. Hard to believe they'd maneuvered this battleship—something meant for open seas—so far inland. But here they were, plowing upriver with steady determination.
Lutrian stood nearby, absently spinning a small orb of light between his hands. A breeze ruffled his hair, and he let out a slow breath. "Those beastfolk we saw? They're not criminals or debtors," he said, breaking the silence.
Roy glanced over. "Huh?"
Lutrian's brows drew together. "I mean, they weren't captured because they broke laws and are not sold into slavery. In Noctara lands, most times, bandit chiefs target villages, snatch whoever they can, then sell them. No trials. No debts. Just pure misfortune."
Roy felt a burning knot of anger in his gut. "So they're just innocents?"
"Pretty much." Lutrian extinguished his light-orb with a flick. "I've met a few who escaped. It's messed up—some never even see it coming."
Roy's jaw tensed. "We'll help them," he said quietly. "That's a promise."
"Lame, but admirable," Takara blurted out.
They had a few days before reaching Midmoon at this snails pace, which meant life on the Nightshatter drifted into a kind of surreal, almost-fun routine.
Day Two found Eryndra and Lutrian engaged in a ping-pong duel of doom on the main deck. They needed to use a rubber ball as the plastic ones kept shattering. Roy had zero clue who initiated it, but soon enough, the rubber ball zipped around in a blur.
Eryndra grinned, deliberately toning down her absurd strength, but still slamming serves hard enough to rattle the table. Lutrian retaliated with a flicker of light magic in his eyes, maybe a small reflex boost, barely managing to return each shot.
Roy watched from behind a cowering Presidroid, half-expecting the table to spontaneously combust. "Uh, net's probably not gonna make it, right?" he muttered.
Serenity's calm voice drifted from a nearby speaker. "Odds of net survival: near zero, Captain."
Sure enough, one final smash from Eryndra ripped the net clean off, the ball whizzing past Lutrian's cheek. He ducked just in time, hair flipping dangerously close to the swirling projectile.
Eryndra smirked. "That's game. You missed your shot. Dork"
Lutrian exhaled, tension easing. "I call that a draw," he joked, face alight with adrenaline.
Roy just shook his head.
That same night, Teddy and Lincoln decided to hold a bizarre wrestling match by a makeshift barbecue pit on the fantail. Smoke from grilled fish and peppers curled into the night air, while the two Super Elite Presidroids hammered each other in comedic body slams. Sparks flew whenever metal joints collided, and the occasional clang echoed off the hull.
Takara, perched on a crate, stuffed her face with spicy skewers. "C'mon, Teddy, you absolute chump—throw him off the deck!" she hollered, mouth half-full.
Roy grabbed a shrimp off the grill and ambled closer. "Are they… having fun or trying to murder each other?"
A small console screen lit up next to him, Serenity's monotone filling the humid air. "Multiple units now display more complex emotional subroutines now, not just simple ones like before. This wrestling match is believed to be an expression of their budding camaraderie."
Roy couldn't help but laugh. "Sure. Let's call it that."
Next morning, Roy found himself roped into a game of dodgeball on the deck, courtesy of Takara's unstoppable enthusiasm. Teams: Takara, Lutrian, and Eryndra versus Roy, Teddy, and a handful of advanced-model Presidroids. Roy started confident, he was the "Captain," after all. How bad could it be?
Bad. Real bad. Within minutes, the deck turned into a warzone of rubber balls whizzing by like bullets. Roy dove behind a supply crate as something whined past his ear. From the clang it made against the hull, it might as well have been a cannonball.
"Time out! I'm out—I'm so out," Roy gasped, clutching his side. He peeked over the crate just in time to see Lutrian lob one with a graceful arc that pegged him in the shoulder. Roy toppled back, wincing.
Eryndra reared back for the next throw, her aim somewhere between "accidentally lethal" and "why is this allowed?!" She launched the ball so hard, it shot off the ship entirely. A tiny shriek echoed from the distant shore as a random fishing kid crumpled into the mud.
Roy's eyes went wide. "Ah, crap. Crap!" He grabbed the first-aid kit, scribbled "Take two pills every 6–8 hours for pain" on a scrap of paper, stuffed it into a bag with some pills, and carefully lobbed it near the fisherman. They all ducked to avoid the fisherman's father hurling furious curses. Takara and Lutrian huddled behind the railing, cringing. Roy just prayed they wouldn't spark an international incident over a stray dodgeball.
Later that night, Lutrian wandered the dim corridors of the Nightshatter, yawning as he headed to the small shower room. He was sweaty and coated in river mist after hours on deck. A quick rinse, then bed, simple plan.
He flipped the light switch, revealing a puddle-speckled tile floor. At a glance, the place looked empty except for a battered wooden stool in the corner. Then Lutrian did a double-take. Sitting on that stool was… a skeleton in a worn baseball cap, not moving an inch.
At first, Lutrian wondered if it was Roy had some sort of sick humor. Then the skeleton craned its head around, sockets glowing.
"Evening, young man!" it said in a cheery voice. "I, ah… just finished my shower. Care for a rubber duck? Squeaks if you bite it, quite the wonder!"
Lutrian stiffened, mind whirling. A walking skeleton was rattling off about squeaky ducks?! The skeleton flicked the duck at Lutrian's chest, and it bounced harmlessly. That was all it took. Lutrian's vision tunneled, and he fainted on the spot, towel slipping off as he hit the wet tiles with a thud.
The skeleton hopped to its feet in alarm. "Oh no—my good-luck duck, was it cursed? Captain Gunn will be furious if I broke his friend!" Hastily, it scooped Lutrian into a bridal carry, stepping out into the corridor and nearly bowling over two startled Base Model Presidroids.
"Make way—official skeleton business!" it hollered, water dripping from its ribcage as it clattered toward the bridge.
On the bridge, Roy was nursing a late-night coffee, half-dozing through some farmland reports. The doors slid open, and in came Father Skeleton, lugging a naked, unconscious Lutrian. Roy nearly choked on his drink.
"Wha—?! Why is Lutrian— And you— Father Skeleton, what the hell, wear are his pants?!"
Father Skeleton's jaw clacked apologetically. "He fainted in the shower, Captain Gunn! I fear my squeaky duck spooked him. Also, sorry for the puddles. Didn't have time to get him dried off…"
Roy set his mug aside, face burning. "Put him down, for crying out loud, you're dripping everywhere. And, I mean, he's dripping too—why is this..., can we get him a towel?"
The skeleton gingerly laid Lutrian on the floor, bowing his skull. "Yes, Captain Gunn. So sorry. Shall I fetch pants? Towels? Maybe a hot cocoa?"
"Just—go," Roy groaned.
Father Skeleton saluted, bony fingers rattling, and scurried off, leaving watery footprints across the deck. Elite Presidroids rushed over to help Roy wrap Lutrian in some towels. Roy knelt, checking for a pulse—still strong, just unconscious.