A joyous start is the best of guides, as the old adage goes. So far my plans have been failure after failure. All I want is a quiet retirement. Is that too much to ask for?
The first drops of rain fall as I trudge back through the woods. A spring shower soon becomes a downpour. It becomes increasingly difficult to see.
One careless misstep sends me tumbling down a shallow hill. The sky vanishes above me. I am plunged into a grey sea of undefined edges. For a moment I lie there, sputtering for breath as rain soaks through my bones.
My eyeglasses must have flown when I tripped. Scent and touch can only help me so far. Without sight, I am a crippled fawn in a quarry.
I kept my crew in line with three simple rules. One: no alcohol on board. Two: do not enter the Captain's quarters. Three: do not touch the Captain's eyeglasses. The third rule is crucial for my survival on that ship of sharks.
It is imperative I find my eyeglasses before nightfall. But the rain makes everything smell and feel like everything else. Groping around the flooded ground, I might have grabbed the same thing again and again and kept mistaking it for something entirely different.
At some point I can no longer feel my head. My hands go numb. Gnashing my teeth, I force myself to keep on searching and—
And I wake up to a blinding white light.
"I've never seen anyone devour a wild animal with such… gusto. No one's going to believe me when I tell them a human being was sucking on rabbit intestines…"
Movement brushes along my throbbing temples.
"You're pretty handsome. Like those dashing rogues who kidnap princesses away from their life of confinement. Will you be the villain who will save me?"
I feel for my eyeglasses and end up striking my eyeballs with the heel of my palm.
"Eeep! You're awake! Hold on."
A familiar, welcoming weight rests upon my eyes. Within the cracked lenses, I see a pair of gently curved lips. A shy splattering of moles across flushed cheeks.
"Your eyes—" she begins.
"—are that of an animal's," another voice finishes.
At the sight of another human being, I leap back in alarm—and ram my spine into the wall. When the woman from the underground dungeon leans forward, I bear my teeth in preparation to bite her fingers off.
"Easy!" she barks.
The abrupt rise in volume halts me in place.
"Sorry," she says, not sounding apologetic at all. "You shouldn't be jumping around after collapsing from exhaustion. Hold still for me."
Gooseflesh crawls up my neck when she grasps my face. Her skin is clean like her scent; a breath of fresh air in a damp castle. It feels wrong. Another human being should not be touching me like this. And yet…
I watch her ears redden as she dabs a cold, wet washcloth against the blisters on my cheek. Her hair is the color of a daisy's crown. The slightest change in lighting makes her entire head glow like treasure.
"How cruel. I can't imagine how bad cigarette burns must hurt. You're lucky I found you before infection set in."
Patting down a sterile bandage over my wound, the woman examines my face for the longest time.
"Your eyeglasses are too big. They don't fit you at all."
"Are they really yours?" is the unspoken question.
At the clap of her hands, people in sharply-pressed suits materialize into existence. The woman plucks a silver tray from their hands and holds it to me.
"Boiled coralline lobster," she says to my bewildered staring. "One of my daughter's favorite dishes. Consider this my thanks for rescuing me."
There are no free meals in this world. My howling stomach condemns my foolishness, but I know the moment this delicious poison touches my lips, I will have signed my life away.
The woman does not seem surprised at my reluctance. Rather, she laughs and introduces herself. A lady of a humble yet noble house in the East Blue.
"What is your name?" the Lady says.
"Kur—ah."
That first mistake is a slip of the tongue and nothing more. The second mistake is the result of catching the first within the nick of time.
I am usually much more cautious around strangers. Perhaps fatigue has dimmed my judgement.
"Kura?" she says.
My mind retreats beyond the walls of this ferry, across the seven seas, and returns to the present with the life of a man who never lived.
"Klahadore," I say with all the sincerity in the world.
The pause following my answer suggests doubt on her end. As though waiting for me to admit that I lied right through my teeth.
"You slipped out of that cage like a fish, paralyzed a man twice your size with a fishbone, and took out fifty goons all on your own. Who are you, Klahadore?"
No use feigning to be a poor, pitiful soul once my true nature has been glimpsed. However, if this noblewoman knows my true identity, there is no reason to be skirting around the heart of the matter like this…
"Do you have a place to go back to? If not, I want to bring you home with me."
This woman is not giving me time to comprehend anything. Why is she so interested in me? Aside from being briefly imprisoned together, we have never met. And I remember faces both alive and dead.
"I'd like to hire you for a job," she continues. "You see, I have a… rat problem." To my quip about hiring a pest exterminator, she adds, "I've already made up my mind. Of course, you'll be given a place to stay and all the hot food you can eat."
Well. I suppose I have time to kill before I perfect my plans of retirement. If shelter and sustenance are provided in exchange for menial labor on my part, I don't see why I should refuse. As long as I do not have to scrape and bow to those who think themselves higher than me.
If this deal goes sour, I can always plunge my claws down her neck.
I accept her proposal. At once, the Lady's dignified posture dissolves into one of immense relief.
"I can almost kiss you, Klahadore."
Leading me out to the deck, the Lady gestures to the archipelago in the horizon.
"There's Syrup Village. We're almost home."
Is that an undercurrent of bitterness in her voice?