The first half of this chapter is new, while the second half includes pre-existing scenes that have been greatly altered. I'd also like to mention that the story is finally starting to progress beyond where I left off all those years ago when it got abandoned. Isn't that exciting?
Chapter 10: Red-Hot Terror of the High Seas
Of all the exciting things that Gascon had fantasized about doing ever since he was a little boy, ruling an empire had never been one of them. Wealth and authority had never held supreme interest to him, nor did the long and unwelcome lectures his father had subjected him to on all the many responsibilities that came with ruling a vast city like Hamelin. His future duties all sounded painfully boring, and in a way, it provided the young prince with some possible insight into why his father was so serious all the time.
Many would say that royalty had anything they could possibly want. And in a lot of ways, Gascon would have to admit that this was unequivocally true. But if there was one thing that those of higher breeding sorely lacked, it was freedom.
While he had once looked forward to his future as the next Emperor of Hamelin like one does the pulling of a tooth, Gascon had practically begged Jameson to allow him to join the crew on one of their more exciting jobs. Every time, he had been told that he was still too young, too inexperienced, along with the apparent need to protect "Gascon's noggin", for he was the only member of the team, save for the old man himself, in possession of any sort of mechanical abilities.
After several weeks of pleading, Jameson had finally conceded. They would be leaving for a bounty hunt before sunrise the next morning, and Gascon was welcome to come along.
The fact that Gascon normally slept in later than most residents of Lari was irrelevant this particular morning thanks to a very important loophole. The sheer excitement alone was enough to prevent him from sleeping too soundly that night at all, meaning he was awake and ready to rush out into the brisk morning air before Jameson's ship, the Stalwart Orca, could leave without him.
After he had made a complete and utter fool of himself during his failed efforts at becoming a fisherman several months prior, Gascon had not believed himself too eager to be back aboard a boat of any size in the foreseeable future. But this time, he would not be responsible for any of the sailing or heavy lifting. This time, he was here for adventure, plain and simple. And any opportunity to use his gun for more than mere target practice was certainly a welcome change of pace, as well.
It would take the better part of the day to arrive in the general location where all manner of mysterious sightings had originated. Something had been heating up the water and killing off all the fish in a several square mile radius. The whole trip had been funded by the richest man in Lari, Jameson had explained to him, who owned an entire fleet of fishing vessels and didn't wish to see his particular fishing grounds spoiled by the monster.
Jameson had speculated that this was the secret spot where the man's fishing fleet caught a particularly rare variety of fish called the ruby snapper, the very same that had made him so rich. If this was true, it would have been a highly coveted piece of information in Lari, and the old man had only told him this in the strictest of confidence. The secret was certainly safe with him. Gascon couldn't care less about fishing, though he knew of one fishing captain in particular whom he'd love to tease with said information. At least, that would have been the case if the man in question didn't look as if he could snap Gascon in two.
Gascon spent a good portion of the voyage listening to Jameson tell story after story of his previous adventures, both on land and on the high seas. The only monster of comparable ferocity Gascon himself had ever encountered was the haunted candelabra on the Tombstone Trail, but he had played the smallest role out of anyone in taking it down, with Marcassin himself dealing the fatal blow. Not to mention Gascon could provide no reasonable explanation as to how he had even visited such a place, which so happened to be clear across the ocean on an entirely different continent, so he settled for listening to the old man's tales in stunned silence. If he managed to experience even half as much as Jameson had in his lifetime, he'd count himself to be quite accomplished indeed.
Jameson even had a special harpoon gun at his disposal that could launch harpoons much farther, and with much more force, than any other. Like Gascon's pistol, Jameson had made the modifications himself, the already impressive weapon remaining to this day a work in progress. It was no wonder the man was considered a legend.
Once they had drawn close to the last place where the monster had been spotted, far enough out to sea that the coastline was but a distant smudge on the horizon, Jameson had gone off to see to the final preparations for the impending encounter, leaving Gascon with little else to do but wander about. The old man had already made it quite clear that he was exempt from the usual responsibilities of the rest of his crew. While the former prince could only speculate as to why Jameson had seemingly placed him higher than that of a common laborer, he thought he knew why.
It was obvious, really. Gascon was going places. His abilities weren't commonplace outside of Hamelin. And if his skills weren't common, then why should he be treated like he was?
Of course, it was only natural for others to question that. It hardly surprised him that Reese, as Jameson's second-in-command, would often direct stern looks at the newest crew member's idleness, to which Gascon would return a smirk that demonstrated strong will in equal measure. He was here for the bounty hunt. That was all.
Eventually, all they could do was wait. Even if the monster was still around, the area in which they had to search was not exactly small. With nothing else to do, Gascon retreated below deck for a much needed nap. Well, it was not so much a true nap as an opportunity to rest his tired eyes before the impending battle. Looking back, he should have probably forced himself to get more sleep the night before, but the anticipation of hunting down a giant sea monster had made that all but impossible.
He had hardly been gone for more than fifteen minutes when Reese found him lounging in a hammock in the crew's quarters. Through half-lidded eyes, Gascon watched with growing irritation as the older boy marched towards him and planted both hands on his waist like a parent about to dish out divine punishment.
"Whatta ya think yer doin'?"
Gascon barely tried to suppress a yawn. "What's it look like I'm doing?"
"I know this is your first bounty hunt, but that's no excuse for slackin'. Everyone needs to pull their weight. No exceptions."
"Jameson said I didn't have to."
"Get back up on deck, Gascon." It was clear by the tightening of Reese's jaw that he was losing his patience.
Gascon tucked both arms behind his head, as if to further drive home the fact that he wasn't budging. "Look at it this way. I'm going to be the only one well-rested, while you lot will be tired and unprepared. So why don't you stop worrying about what I'm doing and mind your own business?" With that, he turned his back to Reese and closed his eyes.
Behind him, he could hear the older boy muttering to himself under his breath in defeat, the sound of footsteps indicating that he had given up. The way he saw it, as long as Jameson wasn't the one complaining, he could do whatever he pleased. It would be easier on them both if Reese just accepted this fact as soon as possible.
Gascon couldn't help but fall in and out of slumber as the boat rocked on the waves, even as the footsteps of the other crew members pounded overhead. The novelty of his current situation was already starting to lose its earlier potency in keeping him alert, but if this monster really was as vicious as everyone feared, he couldn't imagine its arrival would go unnoticed.
He was proven right when the sound of yelling jolted him upright, just in time for him to be thrown bodily to the floor as the boat was nearly shoved all the way over onto its side. Whatever possessed the strength necessary to almost capsize their ship, it must have been truly massive indeed. Heart pounding, Gascon clung to the closest semblance of solid ground as the ship righted itself beneath him. Even in the dim lighting, the air seemed to be filled with a strange mist, and he could only wonder if he was still fuzzy-headed from his recent nap. Only once he had confirmed that he would not be knocked off his feet again did he dare to pick himself up and dash for the stairs leading back above deck, his pistol already in hand.
The sight he had assumed awaited him was entirely absent. The expected monster was not in sight. Instead, the very sky itself was obscured by a thick haze, the sun reduced to a distant and foggy light that Gascon feared with growing unease was not responsible for the increasing temperature of the air around him.
The other crew members were divided between staring into the water or pacing in idle agitation, harpoon guns, crossbows, and other assorted weaponry at the ready. A reluctant glance over the railing to see for himself what had the others so enthralled caused Gascon to retreat backwards with enough speed that he nearly tripped over his own boots. The ocean water was boiling with about as much vigor as a pot of stew over a fire. He, for one, would have felt much better had a single person here known how to wield magic.
By the time it had become clear to him that what they were dealing with was no ordinary sea monster, everyone had opted for gathering in the center of the deck, as far from the agitated waters as possible, while Jameson called for everyone to remain calm. Finding Herman to be his nearest ally, the two exchanged concerned glances, while the former prince tightened his grip on his pistol. The object felt much too small, painfully inadequate for the job at hand.
Jameson, on the other hand, was the only one unperturbed, even as sweat shone on his brow in the humid heat. "A conflanguilla," the old man said and shook his head as if what they were really dealing with was no more dangerous than an unruly child. "Haven't seen one o' them in over thirty years." The man clapped his hands together, his voice rising in volume. "All right, boys. Get ready."
The old man drew a curious sort of pipe from underneath his jacket. Sucking in a breath, he blew into the instrument with as much force as he could muster, producing a piercing whistle that made Gascon wince.
"What the heck is that?" he asked under his breath.
Herman answered in equally hushed tones. "The Horn of Discord. Drives sea monsters mad."
"And we want that?"
Never one for conversation, his bulky lump of a comrade merely shrugged.
Sure enough, a screech rang out that put the horn's own din to shame as a monstrous form erupted from beneath the waves. Staring them down through the thickening shroud of steam was a massive eel, its fearsome head reaching nearly to the height of the ship's highest mast. Its slick, ebony body pulsed with red-hot heat that could have put the very sun itself to shame.
His fellow crew members sprang into action, weapons at the ready, their years of experience propelling them to run towards the source of danger rather than the direction Gascon himself would have chosen had he not found himself glued to the spot, his limbs quaking so thoroughly that any attempts at precise aiming would be utterly futile. The creature hissed and spat as several arrows lodged into its thick hide, their size the equivalent of splinters in comparison. He had actually asked to do this, hadn't he? He reckoned it was too late to eat his words.
By now, Gascon had managed, through sheer idleness, to elude the sea monster's notice, as he silently willed himself to stop being a bloody coward and do something already. Blimey, his little brother had dealt the finishing blow to the demon inhabiting the Tombstone Trail. So what, he tried to tell himself. Unlike him, Marcassin knew magic. He'd certainly be a lot braver, too, if he possessed even half his younger sibling's abilities.
But what was it he had always tried to remind himself when these doubts arose? Who needs magic when you have a gun? Well, his current situation blew that theory out of the water. Ha! What an idiot he was.
As if spurred by fate, the monstrous eel took note of the one person who had thus far failed to fight back and zeroed in on its next victim, its eyes blazing with an unnatural fire. Gascon swore, his earlier inaction set aside when he aimed his pistol at the monster and fired several times through the fog. Whatever bullets had managed to find their target were miniscule in comparison to the arrows already jutting from its side. If anything, he had only succeeded in identifying himself as easier prey. The eel opened its narrow jaws wide, revealing jagged and serrated teeth, and lunged for him.
The rest of the battle was a blur, which Gascon could barely recount even if he tried.
He meant to dive out of the way, though whether or not he had was up for debate. His successful evasion was more likely due to the quick thinking of Jameson himself, who had managed to lodge a particularly large and barbed harpoon from his own gun into the creature's side, while the other end of the thick cord attached to the harpoon's tail was tied without delay around the ship's largest mast.
With the monster subdued, the rest of the crew finished the job within moments, before the eel could even think about snapping the mast or, even worse, capsizing the entire ship and sending everyone on board into the boiling waters below.
The thick steam enveloping the ship had just begun to dissipate, a clear sign that no further danger would be presenting itself. With no further need of his own meager assistance, Gascon had found himself limping below deck as they set sail back to Lari, his mind numb as he attempted to recall what had just transpired. Bruises, along with burns from any hot water that had managed to splash onto deck from the eel's wild thrashing, were the main injuries that needed tending to, while Gascon's sprained ankle was an anomaly considering how little he had contributed. It had probably happened when the eel had lunged for him. If he was to be wounded in battle, he only wished it could have been in a more heroic fashion.
Now that his first real adventure since the Tombstone Trail had come to a close, there was one truth that had become painfully obvious to him. Though he had spent a good portion of his life looking after his little brother, out of the two of them, it was clear that Marcassin was the more capable by far. The irony was not lost on him one bit.
Gascon was jarred awake early the next morning by a firm knock on his door, followed by the innkeeper's vague message that "someone" was here to see him. His injured ankle was still sore from yesterday's altercation, the bandage he had received shortly afterward doing little to help with the throbbing pain that had thus far failed to let up. As much as he would have liked to remain in bed all day, a second knocking at the door was enough to assure him that this would not be allowed.
That didn't mean he couldn't take his sweet time coming downstairs, his slight limp serving as the perfect excuse for his current apathy. Even so, it wasn't long before he discovered that the "someone" who had come to visit him was none other than Katrine's older brother, Reese. After their brief chat below deck yesterday, he was the last person Gascon wanted to see.
The older teen had awaited his arrival with crossed arms, his greeting coming in the form of a silent nod. "I just thought I'd come to check on ya. Make sure ya didn't get hurt too badly yesterday. Jameson feels real bad for allowin' ya to tag along on such a dangerous hunt."
Gascon lifted his arms from his sides in a shrug, his eyes squinting in the bright morning light. "Well, I'm still alive, aren't I?" He adjusted his weight to rest more thoroughly on his uninjured foot. "Just a sprained ankle. Nothing that shouldn't heal up in a week or two."
"Sure, it was just a sprained ankle this time. But next time, ya might not be so lucky. This is why ya need to take these hunts more seriously. People die, ya know. Even Jameson's been known to lose a few over the years."
Gascon rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I get it. I don't need you to lecture me."
"And furthermore," Reese continued, shaking one finger at him in admonishment, "I don't like the way ya've been takin' advantage o' Jameson's good will. The old man's always been lax when it comes to discipline. The least ya can do is show a little more respect."
The former prince placed his hands on his waist and huffed. "Are you through? Because I'm really not interested in being scolded today. If Jameson sees fit to show me special treatment, then I figure that's his business. I bet you're just jealous-"
Before he could finish, Reese asked a question he really hadn't been expecting, but probably should have. "Why've ya been lyin' to people, Gascon?"
Gascon stiffened. Shortly into the conversation, an uneasiness had taken root in the pit of his stomach that had since grown in strength the longer the older boy's stern expression had failed to soften. Now that he thought about it, he had no idea how Reese had managed to track him here. No one was supposed to know he lived anywhere other than what he had told Katrine, with his quaint fisherman of a father in some obscure corner of Lari whose exact whereabouts were specifically chosen to remain elusive even to a lifetime resident of the seaside fishing community.
"And what have I lied about?" Maybe the sudden accusation wasn't referring to what he thought it was.
Reese advanced several steps forward. "Katrine told me that ya moved here with your father. So why are ya livin' at the inn? You get in some sort o' trouble? If ya think you can come to Lari an' hide from yer problems, then ya'd best think again."
Gascon scoffed at these wild speculations and crossed his arms. "You have a lot of nerve accusing me of things you know nothing about. I run errands for the innkeeper in my spare time. It helps my father and I pay the bills. What, do you want me to write my entire schedule down for you? It'll make stalking me a bit easier."
Reese tried multiple times to interrupt Gascon's tirade, but was only successful when he opted instead for simply raising his voice. "Don't insult me, kid. The innkeeper told me ya live here, all by yourself. Maybe it's none o' my business why ya did it, but if ya ran away from home, ya'd best return there. Lari's a small town. We don't appreciate troublemakers here."
Oh, she had, had she? Add her to the list of people who needed to keep their noses out of things that didn't concern them. With his secret out in the open, it seemed he had no choice left but to defend his honor. "What makes you think I'm a troublemaker? I have my reasons, and I can assure you, they're perfectly good ones."
Reese nodded his head, though it was clear he wasn't really listening. "Look, I'll make a deal with ya. I know work can be hard to come by. I won't tell Jameson, but only if ya stay away from Katrine."
Gascon's eyes narrowed at the apparent change in topic, and he voiced as much, "And what's Katrine have to do with anything?"
"Because she's engaged, that's why. To my friend, Herman, if ya really must know. And it wouldn't be such a problem if she didn't have a habit o' fallin' for the wrong sort." At his next words, Reese jabbed Gascon in the chest with one finger. "I don't appreciate ya givin' her the wrong ideas."
Gascon's heart skipped a beat at this revelation, and he swatted the other boy's hand away. "I'm giving her the wrong ideas? It looks to me like she is. I never knew she was engaged." And to a guy who could have been mistaken for a boulder, no less. He'd ask what Herman had that he didn't, but there was no need because the answer was simple. Nothing. Herman possessed absolutely nothing that Gascon didn't have in spades. Personality. Good looks. A functioning brain.
"Well, now ya know. So stay away from her, or there will be consequences." Reese turned and stormed off, the conversation at an end whether Gascon liked it or not, the younger boy's mind still reeling with how quickly his morning had declined. To think, he had just gotten out of bed not fifteen minutes ago.
Without thinking, the former prince stomped his foot, the injured one, and had to suppress a yelp at the sharp pain that shot up his leg. Just who did this guy think he was? He had a perfectly good reason for being here. It was just a shame he couldn't tell anyone.
Not that anyone would even believe him if he did. A former prince of Hamelin, eh? That would only create more questions than it answered. Such as why he was even sleeping in a drafty old inn that smelled like fish when he had a perfectly comfortable palace to return to. He used to be bloody royalty! Why was he even stuck talking to idiots like Reese in the first place?
Now that was the real enigma.
Seeing as Gascon had a habit of disobeying even the Emperor of Hamelin himself, he certainly wasn't going to take heed of any idle threats Reese decided to hurl his way. But there was some new information whose validity he needed to confirm, and he preferred to hear the truth from the source.
That morning, he had slipped a note under Katrine's front door once he was certain Reese would be away from the house asking her to meet him later that night. It was to be a secret meeting, and he had hoped she had found some decent excuse for being out at this hour.
It was now growing increasingly dark, with the sinking sun looming ever lower behind him. It was just as the stars began to peek out over the sea where the sky was darkest and most distant that he started to question whether or not his note had even been receieved. Even by footpath, it had been a tiresome climb to the grassy expanse high upon the clifftop. It was like an entirely different world up here. It was open and flat, the town below anything but. Up here, night time came just a bit later when there was nothing but the horizon to block the sun's exit.
The crunching of gravel was the first indication that someone was approaching, Katrine's head the first thing to make an appearance as she ascended the steps leading above town.
"I'm sorry if I'm late," she said, the rhythm of her breathing hardly any worse for wear. She had lived in Lari her whole life. It was no wonder the endless stairs didn't affect her. "Why'd ya want to meet me here?"
"I…I just wanted to see you," was his simple reply. He wasn't ready to get to the point. Not yet.
"I see." He couldn't help but feel that she wasn't convinced.
The pair sat on the grass, while the stars moved in to dapple the entire sky in their glory. At a loss for how to address what was really on his mind, their talk covered the many mundane things of life. Her mother's condition had declined over the past few days, but on the upside, her health was still better than it was two months ago. He told her about his most recent outing with Jameson and his crew.
He told her his fisherman of a father was fine. Apparently she hadn't heard the truth yet.
Eventually, their discussion trailed off almost in unison, and they listened to the slow cricket's song while he stared down at the grass and she pulled the petals from a flower she had plucked from nearby.
He supposed he couldn't put it off forever.
"There's actually something I've been meaning to ask you. About Herman."
Katrine looked over, the flower stem still held in one hand. By now, not a single petal had been spared. "Herman? Didn't I already tell ya about him?"
"I was curious how you knew him. That's all." It was a small town. The fact that she knew the boy, especially considering he was friends with her brother, made it no surprise. Nevertheless, he needed to find some way of making her elaborate on the matter.
"Like I told ya before, we've known him since we were kids. He has a lot of siblings, so he used to come over to our house a lot. It was the only place he was noticed and could eat a full meal without havin' to share it with his younger brothers and sisters. He spent so much time with us, he became like a member of the family. Even Mother saw him as a son."
That definitely wasn't the end of it. Not if what Reese had said was true. As if in confirmation, the flower stem, seemingly forgotten, was clutched even more tightly in her grip.
"And that's it, then? He's just a friend?"
Katrine frowned at him. "What are ya gettin' at, Gascon?"
He shrugged. "I'm not getting at anything. I was just asking about this guy you've apparently known your whole life. But you said he's just a friend. So I guess that's it." When she didn't take the bait, he glanced sidelong at her. "Right?"
She sighed. "If ya really must know, my family decided, once I turn sixteen, that is, that I should…" she paused, her voice breaking, "I should marry him."
So it was true. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"At first, I didn't think it was relevant. It's not like I can't still talk to whomever I like, boys included. And then I eventually decided…" she shook her head, her lips pressed into a tight line, "that I didn't want ya to know."
"Isn't sixteen a bit young?"
"Lots o' girls get married at that age, Gascon. And it's not like I have much choice. He-he works hard, and if we got married, it would help us with our financial troubles. Mother could get the treatment she needs. My brother could move on with his life. And I…" her gaze fell, and she wrapped her arms about herself, "I wouldn't need to find work outside the house anymore." Her voice dropped further, until it was as soft as the whispers of the breeze. "So…ya see, it's a good thing. I…should feel lucky."
He continued to stare at her, but she made no sign she even felt his gaze. A lone dog howled in the distance, and his heart fell. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he said, though his words were devoid of any real strength. "There has to be other ways of taking care of your mother, and-"
Even now, she refused to meet his gaze. "Don't, Gascon."
"Why doesn't your brother take responsibility? Why is he allowed to just run away?"
"Reese has taken care of Mother. And me. He's done it for years. And soon, it will be his turn to finally live his own life and think about himself for once." At last, their eyes locked. "Ya act like this is such a terrible thing, like Herman's some mean brute or somethin'. I've known him my whole life. He's a nice boy. Just…"
"It's just that you don't really want this, and they're forcing you."
She shook her head, her long curls bouncing on her shoulders. "They are not forcin' me to do anythin', Gascon! This is still my decision. I care for my family, and sometimes that means makin' sacrifices-"
"Well, why don't they make sacrifices for you?"
Katrine pursed her lips, a dangerous fire newly kindled in her eyes that warned that one might be burned if they didn't watch their step. "Look, did ya want to hear the truth or did ya just want to start an argument?"
He looked away when it became more than apparent that this path, if continued, would take him nowhere he wished to be. He threw his arms into the air. "Fine, fine, I got it! Not another word."
Just like that, they fell back into an uncomfortable void of silence that felt so much more powerful at nighttime, whether or not the insects were chirping, and they always did here. There were no insect noises in Hamelin, nor birds, whether they be songbirds or the gulls with their harsh, screeching cries. And certainly not the breathing of the ocean waves as they crashed upon the rocky cliff base with a baffling rhythm only they could follow. Hamelin's song was closer to a cacophony, of voices and hissing steam and the groaning of great wheels. Even the artificial tinkling of fountains was soulless compared to the pure and wild life of the outside.
His home of fifteen years lay somewhere beyond the ocean, and he felt he had left it behind an equal number of years ago rather than a fraction of one. His heart felt heavy in silence like this, as much so now as when he was alone.
She was the first to go with a silent nod of farewell, while he remained for a time longer, to think under the stars while the rest of the world slept.
Gascon left the hill sometime later when not even a single window remained lit below and wandered along the meandering footpath leading back to the narrow streets of Lari. By now, even the night insects had fallen into slumber, and his footfalls left echoes in their wake that were almost jarring against the backdrop of silence. From out of the stillness, something he had said earlier returned to him with full force, like a specter swooping in out of the darkness.
"Why is he allowed to just run away?"
It wasn't until now that he became painfully aware of the hypocrisy of his words.
As I replayed Ni no Kuni for the first time in five years, I found it endlessly amusing that Swaine stomps his foot when he's particularly annoyed, something I had completely forgotten about. And it wasn't just isolated to when he was brokenhearted, either. There's childish, en't it?
For the name of the eel, I combined the words "conflagration" (a great fire) with "anguilla", the latter word being a genus containing freshwater eels. Sure, the creature in the story was clearly a saltwater eel, but…I doubt it matters too much. I'm not good at naming things, so I'll take what I can get.
As usual, please review and let me know how you're enjoying the story so far. Ta, mun!