Setting Sail 16 - Temper, Temper

Another crate full of fabric bolts was placed according to Erik’s plan as Wilkes set it among the others. He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow after dusting his hands. The back twenty feet of the lower deck was stacked floor to ceiling with products. The sorting space was still open enough to allow sorting of fish for the day to day and brining thankfully. Captain Tellish would’ve had a fit if their immediate trade was slowed in the name of future trade promises. Not that he was short sighted, but rather… impatient seemed an apt enough word to Wilkes. Smiling at the verifiably massive quantity of goods he nodded towards the empty room. A snort behind him let him know he wasn’t entirely alone like he’d thought. Dortas was carrying a smaller crate down now, using his same rope harness method he’d discovered early on.

“Heard you talked to papa- er my dad. Do you need a new bit of furniture for your place?” Dortas asked him while still hauling his current load. Wilkes got a firm grip and lifted, taking some of the weight off his apprentice’s back.

“Yer gonna give yerself a hunch back hauling like that all the time. Then ye’ll be doing half yer usual work. No shame in askin’ for help, lad.” Wilkes admonished him. A grunt was the only response he got. The crate was hefted up and over onto a stack of similar sized ones. Judging from the outside, this one contained nails, horseshoes, and perhaps a few pairs of tongs. Not like he was going to search through each and every crate to triple check that. Obsessive detail orientation like that was best left in the hands of Erik. Being the muscle to get the brainiac's schemes off the ground was much more his wheelhouse. “But mentoring aside, aye lad, broke a bit of furniture and needed a replacement before I set sail. Last thing I want after we finally return here is to come home to a broken bit of furniture.”

“Right, a broken bed would be terrible.” Dortas said, Wilkes slowly turned to him. The young lad went paler than the sails up above. He stammered something as Wilkes closed the fifteen foot gap in less than three seconds. A firm hand on each shoulder, he sunk down to be eye to eye with Dortas.

“I never said anything about a bed lad. How’d ye know that? Ye been snooping in me or yer pop’s affairs?” His voice was icy. This was one of few chances to genuinely spook some sense into the cheeky lad. He had to seize it as firmly as he seized the lad himself now.

“W-well Svend overheard you mentioning slats and came to ask me. So y’know I’m not, I’m not uh the one who was snooping. Svend just had a question.” Dortas explained calmly. The stutter from his nerves was the only part of him that seemed tense. Wilkes pulled him into a noogie and ruffled his hair until it was a disheveled mess.

“Right then. Keep it between the three of us that my bed broke. Or else I’ll give ye much worse than that. Understood?” Wilkes kept his voice even, but his gaze sharp. Any hint at the embarrassment and humor he found in the situation was kept under lock and key.

“Understood Wilkes.” Dortas snapped off a salute. Wilkes playfully swatted the hand down. The pair of them grinning like always.

“Now go check with Erik if it’s time for us to take lunch yet.” Wilkes barked another order at his apprentice, who quickly scampered up the stairs to find the other sailors. Chuckling to himself he rapidly ran through the series of possible reactions. Rangpar would likely be confused or welcoming to the idea of Wilkes having such a vibrant sex life. Erik and Barry would tease him endlessly about it, calling him more muscle than brains with renewed evidence. The real issue would be the captain. A man with a hair trigger figuring out one of the lads he practically raised was sleeping with his daughter had been hard enough to navigate originally. Having the angry old captain learn Wilkes had broken a bed with how hard he was pounding Beatrice. The very thought sent a chill down his spine.

There was no way for that to blow over peacefully in his mind. Pacing down there, Wilkes ran a hand through his hair. Cracking his neck, he decided to warm up for a fight just in case. The captain was still absolutely scrappy enough to kick Wilkes’s ass. The gap in experience would prove more than troublesome. Cracking his neck and knuckles his body felt even lighter. A few quick jabs and whirling movements let him stretch out the muscles. Admittedly his hips ached slightly from the night’s exertion. Hopping in place, he tried to shake it out. Dortas came back down the stairs and gave him a funny look.

“Was thinking about sparring with Rangpar for old time’s sake. No holds barred, bare hands. Magic welcome.” Wilkes explained quickly, the gnome beamed up at him and pumped a fist excitedly. “Don’t get too excited, there’s still a good deal of work to do lad.”

“Well we’re good to head to lunch now, and the navy guys are joining us for it. I heard Pauline will be keeping a close eye on both of us as well. Think I stand a chance?” Dortas was actively fixing his hair now. A grin that was slowly growing as crooked as his mentor’s spread across the lad’s face. Wilkes folded his arms.

“Dortas, she looks to be in her early twenties. I doubt ye do at the ripe age of fourteen.” Wilkes squashed the kid’s dreams early. Better him than some seductress from the navy making googoo eyes to get him to enlist.

“I bet she has a sister. A younger one at that. I can get her to put in a good word for me if I win her over then!” Dortas slammed a fist against his open palm in a decisive moment. The confident grin on his face was as unbreakable as his spirit.

“Right, then we can go on a nice little double date.” Wilkes offered teasingly. The look of pure joy that came his way blasted the snarky part of his soul with pure radiance.

“Could we really?!” Dortas shouted, practically dancing with joy at the idea. Apparently he was more than just a mentor to the little guy. Some kind of role model or older brother. It warmed his heart in all honesty. Keeping a nonchalant exterior while inwardly fawning over his apprentice, he patted the lad’s head and pushed on. Walking up the stairs with a chatterbox shadow paired with his usual one. The sun’s warmth washed over him again, and a deep breath of fresh air filled his lungs. He’d never grow tired of the salty winds by the sea.

Lunch was, as usual, up to them to procure. Having not cooked anything the night before and gone without dinner in favor of ravishing two lovely women, Wilkes decided to buy lunch at the bakery again. Filling up on bread now and cooking something more nutritious with Beatrice later tonight was a better plan. Dortas snagged a lunch pail with his name on it and sat happily with the other apprentices in a triangle. They swapped bits of food amongst themselves. Somehow the gnome ended up with both half elves’ vegetables. A tap on his shoulder drew his attention away from the social circle.

Standing with her arms folded behind her back was Pauline. The redhead wore a lower-cut white shirt beneath her unbuttoned naval officer coat. Freckled cleavage on open display it was a retiarian effort not to stare. A simple pair of gray pants clung to her legs until they fed into a pair of boots. Her blue eyes pierced directly into his soul for a second as he found himself staring at her lips rather than hearing her speak.

“Sorry, what’d ye say?” Wilkes asked dumbly

“I asked where you were planning on getting something to eat because I am tired of hardtack and jerky.” Pauline repeated herself slowly. Enunciating her words like she was speaking with an oaf. A slight scowl worked onto his face.

“Right, I’m going to the bakery for some bread. Gonna eat one loaf and trade another for some fish or something meaty and fresh. Maybe gull. If you want to come with me?”

“I would love to join you Wilkes.” Pauline latched onto his arm with both of hers. Gently he pried the redhead’s grip off of his arm. She deflated some at that, and walked beside him. The rumor mill was busy enough with the three native women he had been seen having late night run-ins with. Adding a woman from outside Thellin would only make maintaining his reputation that much harder.

Leading the naval woman into town was an uneventful affair. He ignored the turning heads better than Pauline did. She stared some of them down like a hawk while walking past. He’d occasionally nudge her in the side and her attention would snap over to him instead. A sigh of relief escaping him each time. She glared at him before returning to looking dead ahead. The bakery finally came into view. The knot of nervousness in his stomach untied itself. Holding the door open for her he almost immediately smacked himself mentally. After spending a very passionate night with the resident baker, he now wandered in with another woman that he hadn’t even mentioned to either Hannah or Beatrice. There would be consequences for this.

The whole time he and Pauline were both ordering Alice glared daggers at him. She even stepped away from the counter to whisper something conspiratorially to Hannah. The older blonde walked up to him and crossed her arms. Her rolling pin was still in one hand. He could hear her foot tapping angrily behind the counter.

“I can explain-” Wilkes started

“Then start doing so Wilkes.” Hannah interrupted him sharply. The tapping of her foot grew louder. He had to admit, she was somehow more intimidating than Beatrice.

“This is Pauline. She’s with the navy. Having grown tired of hardtack and jerky she asked me to show her where else she could get food. I chose the best spot to get baked goods on the island.” Wilkes chose his words carefully, opting to be as concise as possible. The blonde seemed unimpressed.

“We’ll talk once I’ve closed up shop. And I’m going to be telling Beatrice should she stop by.” Her voice was dry. Wilkes decided to simply nod and offer a simple apology before leaving with the redhead in tow. The naval woman happily gnawed on a large cherry scone. Admittedly it looked pretty good. He bit into his loaf he’d bought for lunch. It was cold and incredibly dry. A small flare of anger rose in him at that. Keeping a straight face he chowed down on the bread. What he had done was stupid sure but giving him subpar food he still paid full price for was a cheap trick.

“That was great, thank you Wilkes. And sorry about getting you in trouble with your… courtship?” Pauline eyed him. She seemed to be scanning for any signs in his reaction. When he didn’t immediately respond she pressed on. “She seems nice enough despite the rolling pin.”

“One of my courtships. My first courtship, Beatrice, agreed to let me seek comfort in other beds while on the voyage. That was only after we invited Hannah, the baker you just met, into bed with both of us.” Wilkes responded drily. The redhead paled and began to spout a stream of apologies.

“I had no idea you were already spoken for by two women, I’m so sorry!” Pauline apologized to him until she was actually red in the face. He regarded her with a relatively cold indifference.

“Not your fault I’m a dumbass. I’ll see how much I can smooth it out.” He told her. Doing his best to sound bored. It was admittedly cruel to treat a woman that way, but if he hadn’t let his eyes wander like they had his mind would’ve helped him avoid this exact issue. He started to stretch his shoulders during the walk back. Loosening his joints back up. Words travel faster than he does. It’s entirely possible the captain would be waiting to beat him to a pulp.

“We were just out on a casual lunch, and I’m sure since you mentioned the navy being in town by now they’d understand you were undertaking a formality.” Pauline snapped her fingers at the sudden idea, a grin slowly blooming on her face. He just stared at her. Her cheery expression wilted under his gaze.

“Yeah. That’ll cover it.” He droned.

“Right. Thanks again.” Pauline tried to keep the conversation alive. He stopped dead in his tracks. She took a few more strides before realizing he had stopped. The same pit of anger and desperation that had been festering in his gut had begun to boil over.

“Do me a favor since I showed you where to get food. Stop walking with me. Stop making excuses to be near me. Stop pretending like you see anyone on this island as more than a yokel you can trick into trusting the larger navy. The navy that was too slow to save the people of this island when they needed it most. The navy that has taken sailor after sailor from this island as conscripts and sent most of them back in a wooden box. Stop pretending like we are going to be friends, or peers, or even acquaintances. The naval commerce of Thellin is the only thing keeping me attached to any of you blue coats. Do not forget that.” He ranted at her. “Especially since your higher ups that looked at me like a cut of meat were the same ones that used patrol routes as an excuse for me having to fight another band of pirates. After what was it again, oh yeah, it was patrol routes that let my mother die. The whole damn navy disgusts me.”

Or at least, he imagined he had. Instead he just scowled at her and started walking again. Keeping his entire list of grievances bottled up along with the anger. It’d burst at some point, preferably when he had a blade pressed to a pirate’s throat. As angry and bitter as he had grown, there was no point in lashing out at a young woman who was clearly just trying to make an acquaintance.

“If things go smooth…” He started, watching the redhead’s gaze slide to his lips then eyes. “I could introduce all three of you properly.”

She offered a soft smile at that. Walking back down the dock had the pair of them pushing through the sea of people. Her grip on his wrist as he ploughed through was the only thing keeping them physically close. He grit his teeth as he heard faint whispers about it. The rumor mill was already beginning to spin a new lie about him. Rage swelled, and he forced it down deeper within himself. No point in getting mad. Choke it down until it’s appropriate. Challenge Rangpar to a fight.

The ramp up to the gracious pearl was clear. The navy ship still bobbed on the opposite side of the dock. He let out a breath slowly. His day could still be saved. It was still mid afternoon. He only had to work until dusk. Some three more hours. He could plan out what he was going to say within that time. When his boots thumped against the deck, he found Rangpar staring him down. The massive orc had his arms folded across his bare chest, tattoos burning blue all over his body. His tusks poked out above a small smirk.

“Wilkes. Fight Rangpar. Now.” The orc made an impossible to disagree with proposition. Wilkes took his shirt off and tossed it to Dortas. It was only fair since Rangpar was shirtless too. Taking only a half beat to stretch, Wilkes loosened himself up fully. Before he entered the carefully laid circle of rope, he decided to kick off his boots and socks as well. Rangpar raised an eyebrow at that and mimicked the gesture. Absolute parity was something he’d noticed in Rangpar’s traditions.

“I’m going to wager two teeth here old friend. You’ll find out why later.” Wilkes told him, a confused look crossed the gentle giant’s face. He nodded grimly and accepted the wager. Absent-mindedly Wilkes slid his tongue over the gap where he had lost one molar already to Beatrice. He could find a dentist to get him replacements on the mainland.

Stepping into the circle, he began to size the much larger man up. They’d fought dozens of times, maybe even approaching an even hundred now. This part was almost always the same, figuring out what plan the other was running and how to counteract it. The difference was, Wilkes was running an entirely new plan now. Stomping forward he planted himself and threw a series of punches against the orc’s guards. No gusts of wind. No dodging. Just a pure slugfest. He was angry, and he just wanted to slug it out. Whether he got teeth knocked out in the process or not meant nothing to him now.

Rangpar caught one of the punches in his fist. The dinnerplate sized mass of orcish might dwarfed Wilkes’s fist entirely. Yet, the younger sailor just snarled and yanked himself in closer, headbutting Rangpar hard. Just like Dortas had with him. A few staggering steps, the pair began to dance around the circle. Heavy fists caused the air to whip past his head as Rangpar swung blindly.

“C’MON BIG GUY! HIT ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!” Wilkes snarled, dodging another punch while crowding the larger man’s torso. His blows kept raining against his friend’s abdomen. Being so focused on his offense, he never saw the counter coming. A meaty forearm slipped between one of his punches. Knuckles connected with bone and pain surged up his arm. A feral snarl escaped Wilkes as he staggered back a step. Too busy making sure his wrist wasn’t broken. Rangpar launched his own assault while he was distracted. An open palm strike landed flat on Wilkes’s exposed stomach. His whole ribcage rattled inside of his body. His diaphragm folded like an old map. Gasping for air, Wilkes fell to the deck.

Rangpar paused to let him find his feet, not wishing to truly harm Wilkes nor sully their duel. For some reason that only made him angrier. Seeing the mountain of muscle patiently staring down at him stoked his rage. It felt like fire gnawed at his insides. Everything was so loud and sharp. His breathing returned to normal despite the blow. Raising a guard he weathered another heavy palm strike. He was slowly being driven back.

Wilkes stomped again. Instead of finding a new base for a punch or kick he intended to send a burst of wind in every direction, mentally picturing it like crushing a ball of wind under his foot. The resulting wind did not go according to plan. Instead of a small whirlwind fanning out from himself, he got an explosive force upward under only one foot. Thrown heavily off balance, he crashed back into the deck.

Dark clouds began to roll in. The otherwise clear sky suddenly obscured. Thunder rumbled distantly. The captain started barking orders, but Wilkes and Rangpar stayed focused on each other. More sloppy punches came from Wilkes. Rangpar redirected their momentum with open palms. At one point flipping Wilkes onto the deck for a third time. A third fucking time. Rain poured down on them now. Wet hair obscured his vision. He hadn’t been controlling his breathing at all and was actively panting now. Rangpar stared down at him, a growing look of concern on his face.

“Wilkes. This not healthy.” Rangpar spoke softly. His hands stayed up defensively, but an obvious look of concern washed over his orcish features. Ignoring his friend’s concern, Wilkes threw himself back into the melee. Punches landed hard enough that he heard Rangpar wince as the blow connected. He slipped on the rainy deck. Finally being fed up he glared at the sky and growled.

“For the sanctuary of those I hold dear. I make my body a bulwark in the storm. Sailors’ Shelter!” Wilkes roared upwards. A hole punched cleanly through the clouds. The rain stopped as suddenly as it had appeared. Each of the navy officers stopped and stared at him. Pauline’s jaw dropped.

“You did that with a two-sentence incantation?” Pauline questioned. She looked at him like a cash cow. The already boiling anger found another vent for itself. He turned on his heels and glared daggers at her.