A Gamer's Guide 199 (Patreon)

It takes a second or so to reel from the realization that I won’t actually have to kill him, at which point I hastily blurt out, “I need you to agree to join the Evil Claw pirates.”

“To join the—” Turning back to me, he stares me right in the face, waiting for me to drop the act. After a few seconds of staring at me, he chuckles bitterly. “You’re actually serious. And what then, genius?”

Strange question, but… “And then, you remain a pirate.”

“And you, me, and all your barbaric pirate friends go adventuring, pillaging boats, killing women and children left and right, stealing life and limb from innocent civilians until we’re eventually killed in turn; or better yet, die on this sea from which the Gods have turned Their eyes?”

“Yes.”

He laughs bitterly and begins pacing back and forth across the hold, leather soles clacking against the hard wood. “This is sick. You’re sick. No—no, I’m being too generous. You’re a human. You’re all sick in the head. Ungoblic monsters, the lot of you.” He turns back to me, pausing only to give me a glare. “Are you really that naive? To think that I would join you? That I would somehow be able to spit over my shoulder and not think about how you killed my captain, my friends?” A sudden scowl usurps his lips. “And you spare me. They were all a hundred times better than me. Did you think about that? That maybe sir Tynus was anxious to try to get that disgusting human acquitted? That my senior, sir Franze, who died bravely at your hands, was as good a father as anyone to me? And my captain—oh, my poor captain! What do you think he was to use the money from this mission for? Did you justify your actions by falsely believing that he would spend it all on snailspit and liquor? That he didn’t have a wife and two children at home, anxiously awaiting his return? Dreading the day when he would not return?” He spits on the floor in front of me. “No. No, I can see it in your face. You didn’t think anything. Because if you took the time to think of them as people, then you would no longer have been able to slaughter them. And that’s why you spared me. Because unlike with them, you couldn’t delude yourself into seeing me as a hunk of flesh to be carved for the amusement of your barbaric overlord.”

I watch him carefully, my fingers folded atop my lap tenderly. I let my eyes fall to look at my claws, and then to rise again to meet his burning gaze. “Yeah,” I say, simply. “You’re right.”

Still standing in the same place, he takes a few shallow breaths, filling his chest with energy before speaking again. “You agree, then?” An air of doubt hangs in his words, almost demanding I show my true colors, maybe by disagreeing or making it clear I’m only doing this to get him on my side. But there are no true colors. What I’m saying—what I’m telling him—is the truth.

I nod. “Yeah. It’s as you said.” I speak softly. Gently. I’m talking to myself as much as I am to him, but it feels right. I just hadn’t let myself hear it before. “If I’d known the people on your boat for even a single day, I would have spared their lives. And if I’d known them for a week, a month… I would have trusted them not to tell anyone about what happened. In a different world, we could all have shared a meal, and there wouldn’t have been anything foul between us.”

“But that isn’t how it turned out,” Vann snarls. “You killed them, and now they’re dead, and you expect me to move on.”

My eyes fall to the floor again. I don’t know what I can say to that. After a little while, a few quiet words fall from my lips. “If you don’t, they’ll kill you.”

“Or you will,” Vann says bitterly, almost sarcastically. As though I wanted this. An uncomfortable silence falls between us. Striding across the room, he plants himself atop a barrel I’m pretty sure we’re using to salt fish. There, he huddles a bit, pulling the furs covering him closer around him. He scowls at me from across the hold. “So, that’s your ultimatum. Either I join you, or I die.”

“Yes.”

He looks away from me, tentative. I can’t read his body language at all. “I need some time to think about it.”

“Okay.”

He turns to look at me again, and we share a silence staring at each other before he breaks it with a simple, “Alone.”

“Oh,” I say. “Y—yeah. Of course.” Standing up, I move for the door. Placing my hand on it, I chance a quick look back at him where he sits covered in pelts. “Do you need another—?”

“No,” he says sharply. “I’m fine.”

I don’t think he is, but it isn’t my place to tell him. I nod at his reply. “I’ll be back in half an hour to—”

“An hour,” Vann says. “A full hour.”

“...Yeah, okay. An hour.” Mentally noting down the time—ten to twelve—I pull open the door and leave the hold, only pausing to say, “I’ll knock on the door when I come back,” and to receive his answer before I close the door and bolt it behind me. That was… a bit draining, I suppose. It wasn’t horrible, though. Really, it could have gone a lot worse. Hell, if he’d actually asked me to kill him, I would probably have had to eat him to keep up the cover story, which wouldn’t have been very—

“There was really no need to make up that ridiculous cover story,” Coda says where he sits in the stairs leading up. I freeze in place. Shamefully, a tiny part of my brain hastily tells me that it would take less than a minute to kill and dispose of him. I push it down alongside the urge to run away and adopt a new identity.

I muster a smile, though it’s clearly as false as they come. “Oh, hey Coda! How long have you been—”

“Long enough,” he says, casually interrupting me. His head is leaned in his metal claw, but at the facial expression I make, he removes it, sitting up straight. “Why did you think that you would need to lie about this?”

In the span of about five seconds, I go through all seven stages of grief, from denial to anger, to finally settle on acceptance. Coda isn’t someone I can lie to. If anything, lying to him just makes things worse. “You said we had to kill them all, so I assumed that… But I didn’t want to have to kill someone I knew…” His facial expression says everything for him. “And I didn’t want anyone else to kill him, so…”

“So you concocted this plan, hoping that if he chose to join us, then we’d spare him.”

No point in denying it. “Yes.”

Coda takes a deep, careful breath. “I couldn’t hear exactly what he said down there, but would I be incorrect in assuming that he has yet to show any real intention of becoming a pirate?” I nod. “And if I said that it seems like he hates us, would you agree?” I nod again. He takes another breath. “And you still want to try to recruit him?”

“Yes.”

He pulls his lips into a thin line. “I see. Alright. Alright…” Using his clawed hand, he scratches at the back of his bald head. For almost a full minute, he sits there, thinking. I let him think. I’m in no hurry anywhere. Still, if only because it feels like I’m about to be scolded, I feel fidgety. Once the minute is up, he nods to himself and looks back at me, his eye shining clearly. “I’ll give you a month.”

“...A month?”

Coda nods again, affirming it. “If you haven’t been able to convince him to join us within the span of the coming month, then we have to do away with him.” I feel like saying something in defense of Vann, but Coda stops me, holding up one hand. “It will be painless and quick and—most importantly, you won’t have to do it.” He smiles wearily. “More importantly, though… I’m sorry. I acted hastily in putting you in charge of doing away with the hostages. Next time, I’ll be sure to heed your opinion beforehand.” I’m not sure how to respond, so within my silence, he continues. “However, for now, we have to deal with this situation. You act best with clearly defined parameters, so…” He scratches his chin for a moment. “He has to agree to join us of his own volition. If we dock and he bolts as soon as his feet touch shore, we will capture and punish him, and you’ll have to sleep in the hold for a week.

“During this month, until he either chooses to join us or leave this mortal coil, he may not leave this ship. He is your prisoner. If you want to treat him like your friend, then make it quick and painless.” His eyes hold neither cruelty nor dishonesty. He’s being fully serious. “My only advice for you is to remember that whether or not he joins us is one thing; whether or not the rest of us will accept him is another.”

“Yes, of course,” I reply numbly. He’s right. Still… “Do you really think he’ll be able to stay in the hold all that time? Won’t he get frostbite and die?”

Coda tilts his head at me. “Of course, he will?”

I stare at him. He stares at me. “What are you—”

“Clearly,” he enunciates, “he will need to stay somewhere private.” Continuing his musings, he says, “Someplace where you can lock the door. A room with a suitable bed. Preferably with a window, so our dear prisoner can see the sun and avoid going mad.” He taps his chin exaggeratedly, like a schoolteacher baiting their brainless students for an answer. “Someplace like…?”

“Like…?”

He waves his metal claw. “Like… my…?”

“Like… your…” I stop myself. I swallow dryly. Is he really…? “But we can’t possibly keep a prisoner in your room! Where would you sleep?”

Coda shrugs. “We have extra hammocks.”

“But for him to stay in your room…”

He watches me. I watch him. After a few seconds, his eyes narrow. “I’m not going to offer it.” He stands up, suddenly shadowing me. “If you want it, you’ll have to ask for it.” In the darkness, his one eye shines like a moonlit topaz. “However, you have to remember that this is far more to ask for than the life of a mere prisoner.”

I stare silently at the silver lining around his silhouette. A dry swallow claws its way down my throat.

Lowering my head, I say, with all the gravity I can muster, “Please let me keep my prisoner in your room.”

A hand falls on my shoulder and I look up to find his face once more in the light, wrinkles creasing by the width of his smile. “Granted.”

That day, I felt more need to celebrate than I had upon joining the Evil Claw Pirates.

At the time agreed, I returned to Vann and told him the good news. He told me that he had decided not to join, and that a month, even if spent in the greatest luxury among the best possible company, would not be able to change his mind. I didn’t pay his words any heed. A month wasn’t a very long time, but I felt confident that it would be enough. I myself had been convinced in only a week or so.

So, without waiting, I brought him to the captain’s cabin, explained the new rules of conduct, and asked him kindly not to mess up Coda’s room too much. I don’t know if he heard me or not though, as he spent most of the time I was there staring at Coda’s wanted poster collection. Or maybe it was at my wanted poster; it was hard to tell. I felt like bragging about how good the art was since Simel was such a good artist, but then I realized he probably didn’t care all that much, so I restrained myself.

Since it was almost lunchtime, I quickly brought him his meal. I wanted to eat with him, but he refused, so I left him to his business. This, in turn, gave me the horrific pleasure of explaining the situation to my crewmates. I had naively hoped that Coda would do so for me, however, since this was my situation, he left it to me to explain why he’d be sleeping with us in the common room all of a sudden.

It would be a lie to say they were happy to hear about how I’m keeping one of the sailors as a pet, but I also can’t say that I didn’t notice Nazzo breathing a sigh of relief at the declaration that he wasn’t my lunch. At that, both Farallo and Cir patted him on the back. So maybe Vann living isn’t all that bad.

The day passed quietly, and then the evening too, and my tenth month with the Evil Claw Pirates came and went almost eventlessly.