Munro walks quickly through the rusted hull of the ship, taking Charlie Davis down, down down to the bottom the ship . He's never been on a boat this big, it's practically as big as Melbourne was as a whole. The lights are strung along the walls. They're in the shape of lanterns that Charlie Davis is unfamiliar with. They don't seem to be candles, but he's not in the mood to inquire about what they are. Munro hasn't spoken to him since they started walking. Charlie Davis wants to know who Charles was, why Munro spoke of him like that and why he was not attacked but Lucien was beat within an inch of his life. He doesn't like being so curious about a cruel man, but he has to know.

Eventually, they reach a small metal door that leaves an orange smear on his hand as they push through it. They end up in a tiny passage. It's dark and smells like mold. Lucien warned him once about mold, it could kill you pretty damn fast if you breathe too much in. Similarly, it's dark in the passage and it takes his eyes a long time to adjust. The corridor is just wide enough for his admittedly quite broad shoulders to fit through. It's short enough that his head almost touches the ceiling.

He emerges from the tunnel into the most opulent room he's ever seen. Frankly, Charlie Davis has lived his life on Melbourne, or on the ocean. Melbourne, even compared to other floating cities, is poor. He grew up on a small boat he shared with two others, in and out of slavery. He supposes that in reality, he has no idea what opulence actually is. But this, he is sure, is not just him.

The floor is covered in lush carpets, only a bit damp and still soft under his feet. There's a wooden desk (Charlie Davis has never seen wooden furniture before) and a chair with a cushion. Wood, when they had it on Melbourne, was used to make paper so they could write things down, or they burned it. They never had enough to spare to make into things. All the furniture in the surgery had been made from metal and was uncomfortable. Hell, there's even a fireplace in the wall. That something that he'd only ever heard about in Matthew's stories of the place where he came from as a child. The desk has a candlestick with a shade and bulb in it, and more paper than he's ever seen. It's a room fit for a king. William stands in the center of it, presiding over his kingdom.

"I've waited a long time to meet you, Charles." Charlie Davis frowned slightly. He didn't even know who Munro was until his late twenties, and he did not return the feeling. He takes a seat behind his desk and indicated to the one in front for Charlie Davis to sit in. He does. "I suppose you have a few questions."

"Yeah."

"Then I guess I should start with your father."

"What about Lucien?"

"No. Not Lucien. Your real father. he was one of my top men. Richard Davis." Charlie Davis frowned deeper. All his life, he'd thought that his father was a slave, like him. He struggled to deal with the fact that he had been abandoned by choice. "He had your mother, and then when you were born, you were meant to inherit all this."

"What?" He asked, frowning deeply. He wasn't a smoker, he knew this deep in his heart. He didn't know what he thought of that statement, exactly, but Richard Davis didn't sound like who he had always liked to think his father was. It wasn't fair. Most people have one father. Charlie Davis has somehow managed to go through three.

"You were meant to be a smoker. But when your father was murdered, your mother was stolen, and you were taken from me." Munro actually appears to be sad speaking about this. Like he really had lost a son. Charlie Davis can't help but fiddle with the seam of his chair, trying to take all this information in. This sudden...Surprise, really.

"From you?"

"Your father and I intended to raise you. Together." Like lovers, but that stays unsaid.

"I don't understand." Charlie Davis said, finally.

"You don't need to." Munro said, "I have so much to teach you, Charles. So much to show you. This world will be yours for the taking."

"I don't want to be a smoker." Charlie Davis said, softly. Even to his own ears, he sounds like a lost child. Because that was tempting. He wanted to control his life, at least a little. Maybe he could bring Danny with him?

"Don't be ridiculous. I am your father, Charles." He blanches at the thought. "You should do as I say. I know it's going to be an adjustment for you, since you're used to running wild, but trust me, it's better this way." Charlie Davis doesn't think that he runs wild, not truly. He just wants his family to be safe, that's hardly a crime.

"No, you're not my father. Lucien is my father."

"No. He's not." Charlie Davis bit his lip sharply. Certainly, he wasn't Lucien's by birth, but he was in every other sense of the word, wasn't he? Certainly, he didn't address Lucien as 'father' but that didn't mean he wasn't, did it? Lucien had done his best to raise him, hadn't he? "He abandoned you, Charles. His wife died and his daughter died and he forgot all about you." Munro taunted, and Charlie Davis knows that he's right. Lucien had sort of forgotten about him for a long time. Everyone did. He was a shadow, who cleaned and cooked and woke people up, begging silently for scraps of attention.

"And Jean?" Munro continues,"She had three children of her own to care for, do you think that she really wants to take on Lucien's pet project as well? Mei Lin and Li died. Matthew left you, taking Rose with him. And Danny? He was going to go without you, on that boat, with Mattie. You love him, and all he wants to do is hurt you. No one wants you, Charles. No one pays attention to you. No one even remembers you exist. You're only useful to them, when you're being used."

Munro has a point. An excellent point. Lucien spent fifteen summers avoiding him. Spent fifteen summers locked away drinking and mourning. Charlie Davis worked. Before he fished he doctored, or he did odd jobs. Charlie Davis kept them afloat. Worked himself half to death to provide for them. Worked through his own grief until it felt like little more than an ache in his chest.

"But not me. I've been looking for you all your life, Charles. I want you. I've always wanted you." Munro said, standing and moving around to stand in front of him. "I've always wanted a son like you." He said, and held a hand out, to him. Upturned.

"What happens to them? If I take this?" He asked, thinking of his friends. Of Mattie, who only wanted his help to escape her father. Of Rose, who liked to write poems about the ocean. Of Jean, who wanted a better life for her children.

"They'll be killed."

"How did you know, about my life?" He asked, in a soft, dangerous tone afraid of the answer.

"It's amazing what people will tell you, when you hook them up to a generator. Take my hand, Charles. I'll be the master you need."

Charlie Davis stood, slowly, making eye contact with him the whole way up. He took the hand.

"May I ask you something, William?"

"Of course."

"Do you know who defeats evil sons of bitches like you, William?" Munro gives him a confused look. Above him, a pipe full of oil has a leak. Charlie Davis produced a smaller second pistol from the back of his pants. Munro's face drains of colour as he realizes what Charlie Davis intends to do with it. "Being an eviler son of a bitch." He raises his gun to the pipe. His mind offers him the image of Danny laughing as they danced on the boat. He doesn't need any more convincing.