Lanson’s footsteps stopped at the hatch. Many more filed behind him. Armed, by the weight of their movement.

  Below, his three new followers knelt in the frost. Their eyes tracked him, waiting. Jimmy’s expression held something resembling awe. Pook’s was a blank slate. Lou hadn’t blinked since the cold took him.

  (Bob)

  The captain comes. The captain must make a choice.

  “Yeah, he’s good at that.” Ainmire rubbed his chest where the belaying pin had bounced off. A memory of an impact.

  “Below!” Lanson shouted in command. “I’m coming down. If anyone strikes a light or draws a weapon, I’ll have them keelhauled myself. Understood?”

  (Bob)

  Keelhauling? And they think we the monsters.

  Boots on the ladder were followed by murmured assent from the crew above. Lanson descended alone.

  He carried no lantern or cutlass. Just himself, his fancy coat, and the careful expression of a man walking into something he desperately wanted to understand. When his feet touched the hold, he paused, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

  Ainmire saw the moment Lanson registered the three kneeling figures. The frost on their skin. They way they didn’t move, didn’t blink, no longer breathed.

  “Oh my word.” Lanson looked between the three of them. “Jimmy. Pook. Patrick…” A pause. “I assume that is Patrick. Hard to tell right now.”

  Ainmire shrugged. “I just call him Lou. Kid didn’t introduce himself proper.”

  “No, I would think not.” Lanson stepped closer to the kneeling men, studying with the same intensity he’d given Ainmire on that first day. “They came down here to kill you.”

  A statement of fact. Perhaps the recognition from a pattern.

  “Armed. While you were…” He gestured vaguely at Ainmire’s general existence.

  “Just sitting here, actually. Being right peaceful.” Ainmire patted his stomach. “This is on them. Lit a fire and everything. Kids these days.”

  Lanson’s jaw tightened. “Fire in the hold?” He looked at the scorched planks, the shattered lantern. “Damned fools, of course they did. Jimmy never had as much sense as he had courage.” He turned back to the three again. “Can they hear me?”

  (Bob)

  They cannot hear him. But they hear you. They do not think. They obey.

  “Don’t think so. Not to you, anyway.”

  “I see. Can they work?”

  Ainmire blinked. “What?”

  “Work.” Lanson pointed above them. “We’re still a distance from Levelle with a skeleton crew as it is. Eighteen hands on a brig this size means every hand matters. Now down to fourteen if they can’t work. Jimmy was a competent rigger. Pook could handle the jolly boat. Patr—Lou…” Hesitation. “Carried things when told. Not bright, but strong enough.”

  Savvy check…

  Savvy success

  He is not asking out of cruelty, only necessity. No one wants to be lost at sea or sink to its bottom. Not even you.

  Ainmire looked at his new crew. At the way they knelt, waiting. “No idea, pal. This is new for me too.”

  (Bob)

  They will work better. The dead do not tire. The dead do not complain. The dead does not mutiny.

  “I get a feeling they’ll work just fine.” Ainmire nodded his approval.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Lanson absorbed this. His expression shifted—not fear or anger. Something more complicated. The costs and benefits of a man’s soul.

  “Shouldn’t have come to this,” he said quietly. Then, louder: “Can they follow orders? Mine, I mean. Not just… yours.”

  Empathy check…

  Empathy failure.

  The question matters. He’s not asking if they obey you. He’s asking if he is still captain. He’s not.

  Ainmire understood. Fragments of a life floated up—the weight of command, the loneliness of it, the way every decision crushed you. He was in no hurry to share that burden.

  (Bob)

  There is time. The ship must survive. The deep can share. Within reason.

  “I’ll make sure they take orders from you.” Ainmire relayed. “Long as they don’t contradict me. And as long as you don’t try to turn them against me. Which, honestly, fair enough if you’ve considered that.”

  Lanson closed his eyes for a moment. “The thought crossed my mind, yes. Before I remembered you took a shot to the head and bounced right back.” He circled the frozen three, examining them like cargo. “Jimmy. Can you stand?”

  Jimmy rose.

  His movements were as frozen as the fluid in his body. Each join seemed to require conscious effort. But he stood, found Lanson’s eyes, and waited.

  “I need you to go aloft. Can you handle the top sail in a blow?”

  Jimmy’s head tilted, frost crackling at his neck. After a long pause, he nodded once.

  Lanson shook his head. “Well, that’s something.” He turned to Ainmire. “I assume this is permanent.”

  Grit check…

  Grit success

  You can endure anything. Including the truth that you have just condemned three men to something worse than death.

  “Couldn’t tell ya,” Ainmire said, voice holding no humor for once. Just the weight of a man who had done something he couldn’t undo.

  “A fine mess, this.” Lanson watched him. “Jimmy’s mother lives in Levelle. She runs a chandler’s shop near the dock. Has a scribe write letters and she sends them. She can’t read. Neither can he. Mason takes care of that, reading to him. Three copper pieces per letter, takes months to save.” His fist clenched at his side. “What am I supposed to tell her?”

  (Bob)

  No answer exists that would suffice. Either you are alive or you are dead. And humans prefer only one.

  Ainmire stared at the frozen men. At Jimmy, who wanted to be a hero. At Pook, who only acted because he was afraid. And Lou, who might have had a mother waiting somewhere, too. Or a sweetheart. Or maybe even just a dog that waited for him somewhere.

  “I can’t answer that either,” Animire said. “I’ll figure it out. If I don’t? Just say he was lost to the sea.”

  (Bob)

  It won’t be a lie.

  Lanson studied him for a long moment, then nodded in his captainly way.

  “Two and a half weeks still,” he said. “You’ll have to figure it out by then. In the meantime, my crew needs to know what happened here tonight. They’ll hear versions of it, I’m sure. I’ll tell them the truth—that Jimmy, Pook, and Lou did something foolish and you defended yourself. It’ll take some adjustment.”

  “That’s it?”

  “I think we can both agree that for tonight, it’s enough.” Lanson moved toward the ladder, then paused. “One more thing. The ice along the hull. It is getting worse and we’re losing speed. If it keeps spreading, we may require ice breakers. If that becomes the case, we won’t make it to Levelle before supplies run low.”

  Aura of Cold (Minor) has escalated to Aura of Cold (Major)

  “I’ll… see what I can do about that.”

  “See that you do.” Lanson climbed two rungs, then stopped again. “Ainmire. Whatever you are now. Jimmy was my crew. And he is still my crew, even now. I expect you to remember that.”

  Then he was gone.

  The hold fell silent. Above, the same voices, then footsteps dispersing. The ship settling back into its nightly rhythm.

  Ainmire looked at his followers. Jimmy stood where Lanson had left him, waiting for orders that had never come. Pook hadn’t made any move from kneeling. Lou had finally blinked, once.

  (Bob)

  The meat-thing must be proud. He has finally made friends. Soon you’ll become the object of worship. Or will it be fear?

  “Right now, I need to be something that can figure out how to tell a mother I helped her son slip from this mortal coil.”

  New quest received!

  Tell a mother you helped her son—

  Ainmire waved a hand dismissively in front of himself. “Yes, I get it! Now let me have some peace.”