Kagome was nervous. She was being guided to the captain's quarters, and an uncertain destiny. She had long begun to regret her complicity with the escort's instructions. It was still a complete mystery to her why the guard gathered up her other clothes and brought these with them. Kagome was further unnerved by the gruff commands the escort would blurt out whenever they would come to an intersection in the ship's passageways. Simple, "left" or "right", commands issued from over her shoulder would steer her to their destination. The macabre nature of this journey greatly worried the young girl. Eventually, Kagome and her guard reached the flight of stairs that would take them above deck. As soon as Kagome was at the top of the stairs, she was assailed by loud cries.

These howls from foreign throats were completely alien in language to her. But, she could discern that these were sentiments being articulated by men who had been without female companionship for an unknown time.

"Ha! Lookit 'er! Lil' 'eathen almost passes fer a real woman!"

"Old Marlowe knows how to pick them, don't he lads?"

"That he does!"

"Think 'e'll fancy a lil' dip fer someone else?"

"Ho-ho! He hasn't let us down before!"

The snarling dogs frightened her. From various angles she could see the dripping fangs flashing at her. A surge of relief flooded her heart when she was finally brought to the small cabin door. Anywhere was better than on the main deck with dozens of eyes leering at her. Stepping in front of her, the guard proceeded to knock.

"Enter!"

The guard swung the door open and both he and Kagome walked in. Upon entering, Kagome was somewhat impressed.

While the two foreigners had a small exchange of words, Kagome glanced around the room. The broad windows along the back of the room had a bench with a few cushions atop it. In a far corner, a standing desk with maps and books gave an air of a businessman's abode. Along the wall opposite to the desk a simple bed was neatly made. A series of shelves were anchored to the wall next tothe desk. Prominently situated in the center of the room a rugged tabled presided with four chairs in attendance. Kagome continued to scrutinize the room, checking to find any details that might inform her as to what kind of host had invited her here.

Her search led Kagome to take notice of a small portrait at her immediate right. The painting was of a woman, a grand woman at that. Her dress was a luxurious gown that was stitched with a multitude of pearls lining its exterior. These baubles were highlighted by the golden threadwork that bore out the pearls, like small buds ready to bloom. The material was a beautiful white satin that billowed out at the shoulders and hugged the torso tightly. From the waist, down, the gown gracefully widened into elegant dimensions, eventually reaching the floor.

The woman herself was impressive, to the point of demanding the viewer's attention, perhaps more. Her eyes, windows into a powerful and defiant soul, held a gaze that dictated that the viewer recognize her forthright personality. A shocking red mane, a well kempt flame of passions, compounded this. There was a contrast, however.

These eyes, and hair, that issued forth such prominence were set in soft, white, flesh, speaking of the tender existence of the subject. The woman's skin was very pale, with credit, undoubtedly, due to heavy cosmetics. This spoke volumes about a life where physical exposure to the sun was limited, and labors that were done, were done behind closed doors. Her lips, thin and effeminate, belonged to a soft speaker. The only other visible trait belonged to this woman's slender hands, which were unsullied by manual labor. These hands wielded other talents.

In her left hand, a regal walking stick had aided the subject to stand for a long period of time, perhaps for the amount of time necessary to stand for a portrait. Her right hand clutched a sword, long and tapering, with its tip gently resting on the ground. The way she held the sword was, apparently lax, but - one could imagine - this didn't make the sword any less dangerous.

The door's closing took Kagome's focus from the painting in time to realize that she was now alone with whatever kind of man had forcibly requested her company back at the castle. This man, in spite of her short-lived effort to discern that he kept a tidy abode, still was a mystery. He was presently walking towards the standing desk, her school attire in his hand. Once he reached the desk, he tossed the bundle on the bench. He then turned to the desk and a large leather-bound book. Producing a quill from a nearby inkwell, he began loudly scratching the implement across the pages.

It was at this time that Kagome, in a less panicked state, began sensing a familiar force. A few moments of honing her mind to the aura, she quickly deduced that some Shikon jewel shards were nearby. There, in a hip pocket on her captor's breeches, she saw the jewel shards, glowing like tiny stars.

One, two, three… Wait. Those are my jewel shards!

Kagome watched his pocket with a fervent interest. She dared not to make immediate mention of them. The less she said, the less she'd be accountable for.

How did he get them? Probably got them from that nasty character that captured us. He sure moves quickly for a kidnapper. Oh well. No use crying now. Good thing he's not from around here. He doesn't know what those jewel shards can really do. …I hope.