Chapter 13: At Captain's Table

It almost wasn't half bad.

Contrary to what Castorius might have expected, the rest of Captain Malaney's crew did not appear to be quite as uncouth and repulsive as the man himself. This was not the first run-in Castorius had had with members of the Blood Horkers, and he'd long ago come to understand that just because a man was a pirate, it didn't mean he was necessarily rotten through. A little rotten, most likely, but then Castorius was yet to meet a man who did not more or less fit that description.

However, the overall character of the people on board the Brinehammer mattered less. The crew might just as well have been every bit as off-putting as their captain, right down to the last man. It still wouldn't have dimmed any of the glory of their finest feature: their food was excellent!

Castorius was eagerly sucking at his fingers for the remnants of the pepper-and-honey sauce that went with the roasted quail. It had been a good while since he had last gotten to eat that particular savory dish, as the bird did not live this far north. These individuals in question had come all the way from southern Cyrodiil, and had been preserved in salt-barrels. Raiding ships from all across Tamriel was apparently good for more than simply gold.

In addition, there were many courses of more familiar foods: beef—which came roasted, spiced, as well as stewed—mammoth steaks in mammoth-cheese, venison—roasted and in a stew—many different cheeses, grilled vegetables, fresh garlic bread . . . Castorius could not even taste them all before his stomach started to object. It wasn't looking likely he was going to make it to the desserts.

And not only had he been left to eat in peace without being hassled by any attempted conversation, he was also quite pleased that, unlike he'd expected, nobody commented on him skipping the swilling of mead everyone else was hard at. Neither had he gotten any second glances when he'd instead chosen for his beverage a jug of milk that stood on the table, and which everybody else was passing by. Why was it even there in the first place? Whatever the reason, Castorius was happy to drink it, and even happier not to get any of the heckling he usually had to tolerate when he did that.

"Milk-drinker!" they liked to mock, the Nords. It was really quite rich coming from a bunch of butter-gobblers!

Castorius saw Captain Malaney staring at him from across the long trestle table, smirking. He replied with a courteous little simper, hoping the other man would simply continue to leave him be.

No such luck. The Captain leaned forwards, raised his voice over the general chatter. "So, Castorius," he said, "enjoying our humble cuisine, I see." The man's loud voice, dripping with some venomous kind of irony, silenced the commotion. To his displeasure, Castorius found all the pairs of eyes around the table directed at him. Careful, now, he though.

When the man had said "humble" he had obviously not intended his words to be taken at face value.

Castorius took care to finish up his chewing and to swallow before replying. "Oh, yes indeed!" he exclaimed—using all his acting abilities to show keen excitement in place of the inquietude the strange captain's attention actually caused him. "I daresay it has been quite a while since I've last had such a fine meal."

It once again helped that what he said was at least not too far from the truth. He did, however, stop to wonder if he was overplaying it a tad.

Stop thinking!

He looked around, saw the milk-jug in front of him, and since there was nothing more appropriate at hand, picked it up and raised it to the Captain. He only felt mildly stupid doing so, but nobody seemed to make anything of it. Only Roggie was smirking, but the damned bastard was in the habit of doing that anyway. "Thank you, good Captain, for inviting us! It sure has been a pleasure so far." He took the jug to his lips, sipping carefully so as to not acquire a milk-mustache.

Everyone else around the table similarly grabbed their glasses and bottles, and drank—including the Captain, grinning still.

Why do you always have to act like such a damned fool!

Then, as if to spite himself, he put down the jug and continued, "It must be pointed out, however: I would never have expected food this fine on a pirate ship!"

I give up—you're hopeless!

Quiet stares on him now, Castorius began to suspect it had been the wrong thing to say. Compliments were one thing, as virtually everybody enjoyed those, but it was a whole different matter to be told to your face you had proven yourself better than expected. A more sensitive man might take that in all the wrong ways.

Surely lives had been lost over more trifling matters.

Castorius cleared his throat, ardently probing his brain for a way to dress up what could be interpreted as a poorly veiled insult. Unfortunately, he was running on empty.

Much to his relief, then, the Captain burst out laughing— raucously too, as if he'd not heard a better jest in a while. The faces around him were uncertain at first, but ultimately, as if judging it better to humor their leader, his lackeys pitched in with some halfhearted chuckles.

Castorius himself only felt embarrassed. Though he did do his best to replicate a few desultory cackles for courtesy.

Captain Malaney slammed his fist on the table, then, and Castorius was not the only one to jump in seat. The Captain cast a knowing gaze across the table with those black pearls for eyes. "You have keen senses, my boy," he said, snatched a knife off the table, and started to pick his teeth with it. "But I'm no ordinary pirate."

"No?" asked Castorius, apparently unable to keep his mouth shut.

Malaney shook his head. "No, I'm not." He stabbed the knife into the table, and left it sticking up there, hilt quivering. Despite the quasi-violent motion, he was the picture of calm. "I'm much more, as I am able to think far beyond the usual 'where is the next loot coming from' -mentality so typical for my kind." His smile was almost pleasant. "And so I make sure my crew is beyond the ordinary as well. You enjoyed the food? Well, I'll have you know we have a professional chef working on this ship."

"Really?" Now that was genuinely interesting.

Malaney looked pleased. "Indeed. Have you ever tasted skeever meat, by any chance?"

Castorius would have to be pretty damn desperate to do that. He'd seen plenty of the enormous rats when they were still alive, and felt no more desire to go any nearer the beasts when dead. He was well aware that many soldiers were that desperate, however, or perhaps simply had lower standards for their nutriment. Likely it was the latter.

To answer the Captain, he shook his head.

Malaney laughed. "Well, if you had, you'd feel no qualms about doing what is necessary to ensure you'd always have better stuff around. Though I must admit: even skeever is pretty tasty when prepared by a professional."

Men around the Captain were nodding their heads. One of them said, "Well, I always rather liked their meat in the first place," drawing some concurring nods from around him.

"Was I talking to you?!" the Captain roared, and the man shrank back, shaking his head.

"I appreciate your ambition," Castorius put it to distract the Captain staring murderously at his poor underling.

Malaney turned back to him, and flashed another smile. Or perhaps "smile" was too kind a word to describe it. "And I appreciate your appreciation," he said cordially, clearly another man deeply in love with his own mirror image, and always eager to hear about other people sharing his enthusiasm. Men like that, Castorius had learned, were generally easy to manipulate, once one learned their weak spots. And with most of them, the search was seldom a long one.

This one might have been slightly different, though, and Castorius had still not entirely gotten over the odd feeling he was getting from the man. Fortunately there was nothing he wanted from Malaney, except to perhaps get away from him without getting caught in his games, whatever they might have been.

"I also keep a scribe, you know," the Captain said, glowing with self-satisfaction.

"Really?" We're never going to get out of here if you keep encouraging him!

"Oh yes," the Captain beamed, "abducted him off a ship from Black Marsh just last week, I did." He made it sound like he'd trapped a rare species of butterfly or something.

"Abducted?"

"Uh huh. And a good one too!" Again, like some species of animal.

Castorius licked his lips. Hard to come up with anything to say to that.

"Yes, indeed," the Captain carried on. "After all, one needs a good writer to pen down all the glorious details of one's adventures. I intend to live on long after this mortal coil finally craps out."

"An autobiography?" Castorius had met a few of those who had similar ambitions. Self-involved blowhards and lunatics, the lot of them.

Malaney nodded triumphantly. "Like I said, I'm no ordinary pirate."

Just as Castorius was weighing whether or not he should at all continue on the subject, and was indeed starting to think of ways he could derail the conversation, Roggie spoke, and managed to voice out exactly what Castorius had also been thinking. "You kidnapped the man, and you're going to force him to write about you?"

"Yes?" the Captain said, as if unable to see what ever could have been wrong with the presented scenario.

Roggie gave an uncertain smirk. "Perhaps I'm mistaken, but the way I see it you can hold a man hostage, but you certainly can't force him to write."

The Captain seemed almost delighted. "Oh, I can! And I have!" his grin was wider than ever. "He'll write, take my word for it. I have relayed to him in fine detail what will await him if he does not. Man of imagination that he is, I'm quite convinced the message got through to him. He's just dying to start!" The other pirates joined him in laughter. "I'm currently keeping him locked up in the cargo hold, reading some classics of history—y'know, in order to get the proper tone down."

If Castorius did not already have reasons enough to dislike this man, he now felt his distaste all the way down to his stomach. He was then perhaps partly spurred on by an unsound desire to give this obnoxious man even just the most oblique of slights, when he said, "Well, for such an outstanding individual, I'm surprised I've never even heard of you before."

Idiot! You utter moron!

Now it was truly quiet around the table. Not even Roggie was smirking anymore. This time Castorius was dead certain he'd crossed the line.

It was evident Captain Malaney had not missed the obvious subtext in Castorius' seemingly offhand comment. A certain darkness mixed in with his levity, but he did not for a second drop his self-assertive grin. "Not all of the greats are famed, my friend, and not all of those famed are great." He spoke with a touch lower note now, as if to make sure the implications of his words would not be missed.

Castorius swallowed, but decided to continue. He knew perfectly well the answer to his next question before he even asked it, but thought playing ignorance a good strategy at this point. He looked as deeply in the Captain's disconcerting eyes as he could, despite the eerie feeling it gave him. "So, you run the Blood Horkers, then?"

Malaney stared at him for a while, then shook his head. "Unfortunately, no." He scratched at his beard. "Well, actually that's rather a happy thing."

"How so?"

Malaney stood up, and started to walk slowly around the table. "Men, the easily fooled creatures that they are, generally imagine that in order to reach true greatness, they need to assert their own power over others. In short: they want to lead." He stopped, surveying his audience to see if anyone had objections or contributions. When they did not, he gave a satisfied nod, and continued pacing. "But, needless to say, in thinking so, they are greatly mistaken."

Not that Castorius didn't more or less wholeheartedly agree so far with the Captains argument, but it did come across as somewhat factitious from a man who in truth ran his own ship.

Malaney raised his index finger in the manner a lecturer. "See, while it is true that power is the key, what they forget is what power is. And what is it?" He stopped again, looking around. "Anyone?" In fact, exactly like a lecturer.

And, to complete the absurd semblance of a school class, one of he pirates lifted an uncertain hand.

The Captain grinned, pointed at the man. "Yes, Gunnar?"

"Well," the man said with some uncertainty, standing up. It was quite the sight: a big, burly, shirtless man like that, acting like a bashful school-boy. "It's the ability to do, is it not?"

Malaney gestured for the man to sit, who did as told. "Almost, but not quite," he said, continuing his walk. He tapped on Castorius' shoulder with his hand when passing. "Ultimately, power is mind's ability to shape reality after the image of its own desire."

He let his eye wander about the table to watch for the impact of his words. A pale and somewhat sickly looking man sitting between Roggie and Gunnar, the same one who earlier had mentioned his disposition towards skeever meat, coughed loudly, and the Captain gave him a furious glare.

He did not let himself be slowed down, though, but instead picked up pace, as if animated by his own speech. "See, it's this desire that itself makes things be. Things exist not because of mere chance, or by will of any god, but because they want to exist!"

This wasn't sounding like anything any authority of any established religion would say. After all, they all emphasized the role of deities in the creation process. Supposedly.

Malaney completed another round, then stopped behind Castorius, placing his hands on his shoulders. Castorius had to exercise tremendous power of will not to try to shake them off.

"Mind, my friends, is the forerunner," said the Captain, "and everything else follows in its wake. It is as I tried to tell the fool there at the shore. What limitations we allow for our minds, those we experience in our own existence. They become the boundaries of our world." Castorius couldn't see it, but supposed Malaney was grinning in his ominous way. "And while it is true leaders have a far greater chance of shaping the world as they wish—much more so than the average person—it is likewise true that they are themselves limited by the exact same things they are supposed to command."

He looked down and met Castorius' eyes, regarding him gently like a father might. A father that Castorius never had, but whom he hated nonetheless. "So that is why I don't run the Blood Horkers. Or, suppose I say, it's why I wouldn't want to. Too many limitations." He lifted his gaze, patting at Castorius' shoulder. " Too. Many. Limitations."

Then, when Malaney said nothing more but didn't remove his hands either, and when no one else seemed to know what to do, Castorius decided to break the silence. "Well, that is fascinating," he said. "But seems as it might be getting late," he looked at the wall where no clock was hanging, "it would probably be better we get on with our negotiations."

"Oh, that's taken care of," Malaney said, offhand.

"It is?"

"Yes," Roggie chimed in, "we had our little talk while you were eating."

"Oh."

"Indeed," Malaney said. "It's all very simple, really. You get me Alessia's Trial, Ulfric will get his contract, and we can look forward to a hopefully successful future of doing more business together."

What the man said, and particularly the last bit, caused Castorius to raise an inquisitive brow at Roggie, but the Nord just smiled a sort of "we'll talk later" smile.

I don't really care, just let me out of here, Castorius thought. "Well, alright," he said, tapping the tabletop, and made to rise. The Captain's hands were still resting heavy on his shoulders, keeping him from getting up. Alright, then.

"There's something more," Malaney said. Of course. "Something about some 'commodore' was mentioned earlier, I believe."

"Ah," said Roggie. "An old associate of Ulfric's, looking to play a part in arranging his fleet. The thing with him is he used to command a warship for the East Empire Trading Company, and has certain misgivings about pirates. As, I'm sure, you might imagine."

"Is he going to be a problem?" As in: is he going to be my problem—and if so, consider him dead.

Roggie shook his head with pursed lips. "We can handle him."

"Good. See that you do." The Captain released Castorius from his captivity, making him want to sigh in relief. "I believe we're done for now, then."

Roggie stood up, smiling. "This is going to work out great, you'll see." In Castorius' mind, that was a textbook example of a foreword for certain doom.

"Thank you again for the splendid dinner!" Castorius said, giving the Captain a quick smile, then made to slip away.

The Captain, however, draped his arm around Castorius' neck, and started leading him in a gentle but determined way out of the dining room.

Damn—almost! Castorius did nothing to resist.

Once they were out of earshot, the Captain regarded him soberly. "I don't like you, you know."

"Oh?" What to say to that—that the feeling was firmly footed on the base of mutuality? "Sorry to hear that."

"No!" the captain brightened, pulling back his arm. "It's a good thing!"

"It is?"

"Yes! I don't trust a man I like, not for the life of me!" He waved an angry hand at nothing. "Unreliable bastards to a man!"

Castorius thought about it for a split second, and could see some kind of sense in Malaney's reasoning. Sort of.

The Captain jabbed his finger at Castorius' chest. "But you, I can see you're scum!" That was not the most flattering of flatteries ever to come his way. "A man after my own heart, eh?" Malaney grinned, punching Castorius playfully in the shoulder, and he stifled a yelp.

Malaney sat down, gesturing for him to do so also. "Tell me, what can you remember of your childhood?"

Castorius had to admit that was as unexpected a question as he might have anticipated given the source.

He shrugged, said, "Nothing much, to be perfectly honest," being perfectly honest.

Malaney gave a sympathetic nod. "Ah. Same here. I had a mother, of that I'm fairly sure." He gazed pensively into the distance. "She was a kind woman, she was."

Then he frowned. "Or, on the other hand, could be she was a mean-spirited cunt." The conundrum prompted Malaney to shrug. "Hard to say. Pretty sure I had father, also. Likely a drunk; a violent one at that."

The Captain then concluded the reminiscence of his family history by producing a flask out of his chest pocket. He took a nip, offered it to Castorius who replied with a shake of head, made nothing of it, took another nip, and set it on the table between them, lips smacking contemplatively. "It's really important, you know."

Castorius hated it when people did that, made vague statements to draw the other person to ask what they meant—just to keep them involved in the otherwise one-sided conversation.

"What is?" he asked.

Malaney smiled, as in "glad you asked"—the predictable bastard. He gave Castorius a grave look. "Remembering who you are," he said. "Where you come from. 'Cause if you don't, what does that make you?"

Was that a real question?

"I don't know," Castorius muttered.

Captain Malaney jabbed a finger at him. "Exactly! You don't know! And what you don't know you cannot control." He leaned back, though his chair had no back rest. "But it's not so bad."

"No?" Castorius was rapidly losing his taste for yammering madmen. And he'd never had much taste for them to begin with.

"No, see, what matters is not where or what a man has been, but what one has been made into, so to speak."

"Thought you just said it was important," Castorius pointed out. Why was he unnecessarily stretching this?

"Oh it is," assured the Captain, "it is. But it's not as important as what a man makes of that which he has been made into."

"I have to assume you're talking about yourself here."

Malaney laughed. "Oh, yes indeed. You are clever." Hardly took a genius to decipher that. "But I'm also taking about you, my boy. See, men like us," Malaney waved his finger between them. "We are those who are able to steer things in the way we want it to go. We are captains of our own lives, as it were."

It hardly felt like things had been going where Castorius would have liked them to just lately. He gave a slow nod, as if he was thinking about what Malaney had just said.

From back at the table, there was the sound of the earlier gaunt man coughing, and the Captain's left eye twitched with annoyance. He quickly recovered, though, and grinned again. "It is as you so astutely put it earlier: nobody does know me—as of yet."

That wasn't exactly what Castorius had said, but since the captain did not appear to be upset by it, he didn't bother correcting the man.

"But they will," Malaney continued. "That's what the whole scribe business is about, too. Words create reality. They are the active will of the mind." he tapped at his forehead. "And mind, as I said is foremost. Mind makes the world; believe me on that. And I will use mine to shape a future into one in which I will be remembered. Will be reckoned." He nodded his head as if him just saying it made it so.

Afraid of the potential answer, Castorius asked, "And where do I fit in in all of this?"

Malaney leaned forward, breath rank with liquor and rot. "You and I can help each other," he whispered. "I could use a man like you. Roggvir back there," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, in the wrong direction. "He's a good lad, but this close to becoming entangled in this or that mental construction not of his own making. And that makes him a liability." He lay a hand on Castorius' shoulder. "You, on the other hand, I can see you will never let anything get in your way, to stop you from forwarding your own position."

Like as his did to pretend to the contrary, some of the things the unbecoming captain had been saying had resonated with Castorius. And now, at this last one, two thoughts ran though his head at once. First of all there was the disconcerting feeling he was not going to get rid of this man like he planned to. Try as he might, there was no denying that he was speaking as if he had seen Castorius' mind, perhaps even—gods forbid—shared some important qualities with him. Could he really be able to help Castorius in what he had so far failed at?

Secondly, what was it he had said about Roggie? A liability? Castorius was not perhaps that well versed in the lingo of hardened criminals, but that hadn't sounded too good to him. Did Malaney see Roggie as some kind of threat to him? He certainly did come off as the paranoid type, so it was a distinct possibility. And if that was the case, Castorius would need to warn his friend.

On the other hand, if he did so, would that even accomplish anything? Roggie would likely not believe him anyway, and might even take it to the Captain—then it would be Castorius himself in danger.

In any case, he was more certain by the second he was already in too deep to back down. He just barely stifled a sigh, and in its stead feigned a grin. "I can see that you're a very perceptive man."

The briefest flash of hesitation lingered on Malaney's face, as if he needed to judge whether Castorius was making a veiled insult. Based on the smirk slowly spreading on it, he the conclusion was negative. "Oh, you don't know the beginning of it!"

I believe that's a book I don't want to crack open, Castorius thought. "I'm sure I don't." He stuck out his hand. "You can rely on me. Me and Roggie will take of this. And then we'll talk more."

The Captain closed his large, clammy hand around Castorius' and gave an overtly vigorous squeeze. "Good man, " he growled. Oh, you don't know the beginning of it.

It was very difficult to resist wiping his hand once Malaney released it. Castorius focused on not letting his expression of complicity falter.

Malaney spread his arms. "And so we conclude our business."

Castorius nodded. And not a moment too soon. The relief he felt, however, was mixed with the dread from knowing their business was actually far from concluded.

Instead of waiting around for Castorius, the Captain sprung up from his chair, and stormed back to his crew. Already he sounded like he had spotted something very displeasing about them, and was barking from the bottom of his lungs. Accusations of improper sexual activities with the women who birthed them appeared at the forefront of his clamoring.

It took a moment for Castorius to gather his thoughts and himself before he could get up. He sought out Roggie. The man, as typical, was smirking his stupid smirk at him.

Castorius waved dismissively at the man. "Keep your mouth shut, unless you're looking to be punched."

Surprisingly enough, Roggie did as told. In silence, they climbed onto the deck of the Brinehammer, to get in the rowboat and back onto solid ground, and away from this teetering deathtrap.

Let's get this over with—whatever in gods' names it's gonna be.