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Limitless Seas 2, Chapter 6.
🕑 Added 2021-12-20 15:18:22 +0000 UTCChapter 6.
“I’m sorry, sir, weapons are not allowed to be worn at the estate,” the coachman advised as Larson and Ibn walked toward their ride. Larson’s weapons were stowed in his inventory, but Ibn had an ornate scimitar belted to his waist as well as a long, curved dagger. He must have spent some of his prize money on weapons upgrades. Whether Ibn’s upgrades were functional upgrades or cosmetic remained to be seen.
“I am the leader of the Fangs of the Serpent, and as such, am required to be armed at all times,” Ibn said, looking toward Larson who nodded his agreement. The man had earned the title in Larson’s eyes, proving himself in battle, and while he had more to learn about life aboard ship, Ibn had led his marines well. The strange system that controlled this world seemed to agree as a prompt appeared.
The officer in charge of your marines, Ibn Hasma, has met the final requirement for the unique class, First Fang of the Serpent. This class will unlock new combat abilities for him and any Marines under his command, which will now be known as the Fangs of the Serpent. The class will be active for as long as Ibn remains in service to Captain Larson.
It didn’t give him more details of Ibn’s class, despite Larson’s hand in bringing it about. The fact that it was a unique class led him to believe it would give Ibn some powerful skills and abilities, but he would have to deal with that later, for now, he had the overdressed servant of Lord Mox to deal with.
“I’m sorry, but Lord Mox insists that you both are unarmed,” the coachman said.
“That’s not a problem, Ibn, I give you permission to be without your weapons for the duration of the event,” Larson said. He waved a sailor over, placing Ibn’s weapons into his void storage and pulling a basic sword from his inventory, turning his back to the coachman to hide the exchange. The coachman didn’t seem to notice the weapon switch, waving the pair aboard once he saw the sailor running back toward the ship with what he presumed was Ibn’s weapon.
“Thank you, sirs, we are ready to depart at your convenience,” the coachman said, waving them aboard.
This coach was not quite as ornate as the one that had dropped off the invitation, in fact, it appeared a bit worn out. Larson figured it was Mox’s attempt at a slight, but Larson could care less what kind of coach he rode in on. While the coach was less than impressive, Lord Mox hadn’t skimped on an entourage to escort them, the driver sat at the head of the coach, with an assistant driver next to him. Two footmen clung to steps on the rear, ostensibly ready to tend to the passengers’ needs, should any arise.
“That was a neat trick, I meant to ask about your ability to produce items from nothing, I’ve heard of such storage devices, but they are rare and sometimes dangerous,” Ibn said as they made themselves as comfortable as they could on the thinly padded seats of the coach. They both went silent as the footmen closed the drapes over the window to prevent any curious onlookers from gawking at the passengers and the coach lurched into motion.
“It’s a rather handy item I picked up before our last voyage, it wasn’t a pleasant experience, but it was worth it,” Larson replied, remembering the horrific pain he had experienced inside the alchemist’s shop.
“I assume my weapons can be produced at will, and that they won’t be lost to nether? I am rather attached to my newest additions, I have to say,” Ibn asked.
“They’re fine, just let me know when you want them,” Larson replied, pulling the weapons from inventory for Ibn to inspect. They went back into void storage once Ibn was satisfied they hadn’t been damaged or altered by the experience.
“I have several new candidates for the Fangs of the Serpent, shall I assume I need to provide marines for both ships? I hear Tarley hasn’t made much headway in finding a buyer for the Lost Soul. The ship has an unsavory reputation, and he thinks some of the buyers fear that the pirate Fontaine will suddenly appear to wrest control of the ship from them,” Ibn said.
“I think we’ll keep it and though it makes finding crew and officers more of a challenge, the benefits of a second vessel outweigh the hassles.
“Very good, one of my men, Samir, is ready for a command of his own, may I have your permission to place him in charge of the Fangs assigned to the Lost Soul?” Ibn asked.
“If you believe he’s ready, we’ll give him a chance to prove himself on the upcoming voyage,” Larson said.
He was reluctant to accept Samir as the marine leader aboard the Soul without getting to know the man better, but he had to trust the people he placed in charge. Trusting his officers, and their judgment was the only way he was going to grow his empire from more than a single ship. The system limited the number of officers he could recruit, so he didn’t want to use his available slot on a marine officer when he still needed to find a captain for the Soul, he was leaning toward promoting Tarley, but wasn’t sure if the man wanted the job. None of the others had the experience necessary for the task.
“Have you lined up a new job for us?” Ibn asked.
Larson hadn’t had time to arrange an officers meeting to advise them of the deal with the Imperium soldiers, but Shada must have mentioned something since a detachment of the soldiers were already making themselves at home aboard the two ships. How much of Shada’s past he wanted to disclose to the others was uncertain, but he would have to explain why they were doing a job for no compensation. There was always the possibility they would run into a pirate ship to take as a prize, but that was unlikely, and he could only hope the portal at this island they were heading to had something of value he could loot.
“We have to ferry those Imperium soldiers you saw coming aboard to a small island. Some kind of portal to the hypogean realm is supposed to be there, and I’m counting on a place like that having some nice plunder for us,” Larson said.
“Hope for loot is a poor business plan, but I follow where you lead, Captain. While we are talking about leading, do you get the feeling our coach isn’t being led to our supposed destination?” Ibn said. It was true, they should have arrived at Mox’s estate already. Now that he stopped to listen, Larson could hear that the normal background noise of the city had faded away.
Ibn pulled the curtains aside, surprised to see that a large blanket had been draped over the windows from the outside preventing them from seeing out. Larson activated his Void Storage pulling his spear and shield, along with Ibn’s weapons. The two were preparing to kick open the door when the coach lurched to a stop. He could hear multiple people shuffling around outside the coach.
“Alright, you inside, I’m going to open the door, and I want you to out with your hands high. Cause us any trouble and I’ll make things much more painful. Cooperate, and I’ll make your deaths swift and clean, your choice.
“Oh, he really doesn’t know who he is addressing, does he,” Ibn said, readying his weapons as someone fumbled with the door’s lock.
The door started to creak open when Larson pushed forward, bowling over the orc that had been in front of the door. Ibn wasted no time, opening the orc’s throat as he followed Larson from the coach. Larson found himself eyeing a crowd of poorly armed thugs wearing ragged leather armor. Their ambushers closed in while the two footmen perched on the back of the coach leveled crossbows at Larson.
“Why did you let them keep their weapons, you fool! One of the thugs complained as the group charged forward, their attack led by the fire of the two crossbows. Larson caught one bolt on his shield before, activating shield bash at the nearest attacker. Ibn deflected the second bolt with his scimitar, the weapon already becoming a blur of steel as he laid into the nearest target. The group of thugs had likely counted on confronting a pair of confused and disarmed victims, not a pair of well-armed and well-prepared killers.
Larson felt the strange loss of control as the shield bash activated, the system guiding his movements as the nearest attacker was hammered in the face by the heavy, bronze-covered shield. The second charge of his ability targeted the next attacker, leaving both men on the ground, stunned and bleeding. Larson thrust his spear into the helpless attackers, keeping his shield between himself and the others who were approaching more cautiously now that several of their number were down in the first seconds of the fight.
With the coach at their back, the attackers could only get at them from the front and sides, but it was still a lot of territory to cover, and the attackers quickly got over their shock and pressed the attack. Ibn drew his dagger, adding its blade to the swirl of steel he had created, his arms moving in a complex pattern to keep the ornate scimitar flashing toward any that approached him. Larson felt the pull of mana leaving his body as he imbued his spear with slashing damage, watching as several attackers faltered when the weapon began to faintly glow with power.
Their hesitation give him an opening and he lunged toward a man, the assistant driver of the coach, who was creeping up on his flank. Larson’s spear skewered the man’s arm, the imbued magic activating to slash the limb off completely, leaving the assistant driver screaming on the ground as his lifeblood poured from the stump. A blow aimed at Larson’s head was deflected by his shield, while another attacker snuck past his defense to ram a shortsword deep into his tail. Pain radiated from the wound, but Larson ignored it, jabbing at one attacker as he flicked his tail at the one still digging his sword into the wound.
The powerful appendage knocked the man over, his fall causing the blade to rip from Larson’s tail, which bled profusely. He needed to tend to the wound, but there was no time as the attackers continued to press them. Ibn had taken out two more of the enemy, thinning their numbers down to eight. Larson adjusted that number down to seven when he realized the driver wasn’t participating and was shaking in fear, still seated on his bench.
If the enemy had coordinated better, Larson and Ibn might have been in real trouble, but most of their attackers were poorly trained based on the way they handled their weapons. They got in each other’s way, leaving Larson and Ibn time to engage them one or two at a time, which both could handle. Pumping mana to infuse his weapon with each hit, Larson turned even a glancing blow into a deadly strike. Ibn’s defense was impressive, his blades meeting any attack launched at the man, his scimitar and dagger countering the blows and replying with strikes of his own.
The crossbowmen were going to be a problem as both finished reloading and were taking aim once more. It was going to be too hard to counter their attacks while fighting in melee with the other attackers. Larson didn’t want to use up his most powerful ability on this rabble, but it looked like it was time to pull out all stops to finish this fight. He flexed the muscles inside his mouth forcing venom through the hidden fangs, which launched a stream that splattered onto both crossbowmen. The pair dropped their weapons and began to scream in pain as the venom rotted the exposed flesh wherever it landed. Futile attempts to scrape off the venom only served to further the damage as the venom ate through the leather gloves they wore and began to rot the fingers underneath.
Instead of taking advantage while Larson sprayed venom on their allies, the other attackers backed away in terror, which gave Larson time to recover from the attack and go on the offensive. He charged forward, the imbued spear blasting apart the skull of one attacker with bludgeoning damage while another was tripped up by a flick of his tail, leaving him an easy target for Larson’s spear. Ibn was still in the fight but hadn’t gotten through completely unscathed, as blood leaked from several shallow cuts, staining his ornate robes.
“I’ll make this offer only once and only now, lay down your weapons and surrender or we’ll kill the lot of you,” Larson growled at the remaining three attackers. He could see the fear in their eyes, but for whatever reason, they didn’t give in, instead choosing to make one final, futile charge. Larson brushed a man aside with his shield, skewering another with his spear, the imbued weapon firing off piercing damage when it hit, blasting a hole in his victim’s gut. Ibn took care of the last attacker, while the one Larson had knocked down dropped his weapons and raised his hands.
“Who hired you?” Larson asked.
“I, I don’t know, Garret got us the contract, but he’s,” the attacker stammered, pointing at the assistant coachman whose arm Larson had severed. He had bled out during the course of the battle.
“Are you sure you don’t know anything?” Larson asked.
“No, I don’t, I was just doing my job,” the man promised.
“Too bad for you, if you had something to offer, I might have let you live. You missed your chance earlier, you should have dropped your weapons then, but you attacked me anyway,” Larson said, driving his spear into the man’s throat. The man twitched once before going still. Ibn made the rounds, making sure none of the attackers were playing possum, finishing off those who still had some life in them.
“You, you’re just killing the wounded?” The coachman said, shivering in his seat as Larson approached.
“If you attack me or my crew, you forfeit any chance at mercy. I make it a point not to leave an enemy alive to cause me trouble in the future. Now, what do we do with you? I take it you’re going to tell me you’re not part of this?” Larson asked waving toward the dead and dying attackers.
“No, they hired my coach and paid me not to ask no questions. That’s all, I promise. I don’t even have a weapon,” the driver argued.
“Who hired you?” Larson asked moving closer, using his imposing size, which had the intended effect of making the man even more terrified.
“He did, that one,” the driver said, pointing toward the man with the severed arm, the same one the other attacker had identified Garret, the leader of this group.
“Did he say anything else? Think carefully since your life might depend on it,” Larson threatened.
“No, he just hired me to drive you out to this spot. He was supposed to pay me after dropping you off, I had no idea about all this,” the man promised.
“I’m inclined to believe him, what do you think Ibn?” Larson asked, the first fang had finished off the enemy and walked over to join Larson.
“I believe he tells the truth and did not know about this attack, but on the other hand, he was hired to drive us to our doom. Do you want to kill him, or do you want me to take care of it, I’m good with either,” Ibn said, giving the coachman an evil smile that caused him to begin whining uncontrollably.
“What’s your name coachman?” Larson asked, reaching out to hoist the man from his seat, and quickly checking to verify he was unarmed. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that this coachman was some kind of failsafe assassin, ready to go into action once Larson and Ibn relaxed. He didn’t have anything on him other than a purse with a few scales in it, nothing to indicate was anything other than the hapless coachman he claimed to be.
“Calvin, sir, my name is Calvin Lox,” the coachman stammered out.
“Well Calvin, it’s your lucky day. You’ll not be harmed by us tonight, and if you take us to our next destination, I’ll see that you actually get paid for your work,” Larson promised.
“Where can I take you, gentlemen?” Calvin asked. He tried to pull himself together, but obviously wasn’t fully convinced that Larson was going to let him live, let alone pay him.
“We have a party to attend, and I think we’ll bring some uninvited guests along with us,” Larson said with a predatory grin.
