To stage a mutiny

After Blythe explains her devious plan, you ensure her that you’re absolutely on board. You’ve spent long enough in this trial waiting for leads to come to you. It’s time to seize the reins and find the Elemental yourself. You could have Blythe continue to flirt with the captain, and have her manipulate him into making whatever moves you want, but Blythe clearly wants to put an end to the charade with Witterel. Whether she knew it from the start or not, Blythe has been toying with the captain’s heart this whole time. His constant attempts to sneak glances at her cleavage excited her, and his innocent reactions to her teasing were fun for everyone to watch. The man probably ended up developing real feelings for her — as real as an NPC is capable of, anyway — but to her, it was nothing more than a game. Now that talk of love and marriage is circling the ship, it’s time for the game to end. And Blythe wants to go out in style.

The first step of the plan is to get Lia on the same page. Hoping that she isn’t too mad at you both for being late, you finally head across the hall to meet up with your catkin companion. Luckily, she is too absorbed in a book to realize the time. You don’t recognize the book, and when asked, Lia tells you that she ‘borrowed’ it from one of the officer’s quarters. Then, unprompted, she goes on to tell you that she can actually read and understand most of it. You try to call her bluff, mostly just to tease her, but she surprises you by launching into storyteller mode. She spends the next couple of hours regaling you with the tale of a dying ocean goddess and her devout followers, who will see her restored at any cost. She messes up the order of events twice, and sometimes asks Blythe about a word or two she doesn’t understand, but altogether Lia’s retelling of the story makes for pleasant entertainment until it’s time for bed.

When that time comes, you bid the girls adieu and head back across the hall. Alicia welcomes you, helps you disrobe, and tucks you into her bed. It could be your imagination, but the mattress feels a bit more comfortable than it did last night.

She was so into that story that there wasn’t a good time to bring up the plan, you think as you’re drifting off to sleep. Hopefully Blythe talks to her.

…

For the first time in weeks, your sleep is uninterrupted by the angel’s power. You dream of many pleasant things, but the most pleasant feeling of all is waking up to your noblewoman cum sex **** tending to your morning wood. Alicia’s lips slide up and down your erect cock slowly, barely putting any pressure on the shaft while her tongue pokes at all of your sensitive spots. Once she notices that you’re awake, she stops teasing your dick and searches your eyes for permission to continue. You give her that permission, of course, and she starts earnestly trying to get you off: her lips form a vacuum seal around your rod, and the pace of her mouth-fucking increases considerably. As you feel yourself getting close, you order her to drink every last drop of your seed. You can tell that she doesn’t like the taste of your cum like Blythe seems to, but anticipating the bad taste only adds to the experience for your masochistic ****. Before long, you explode inside her mouth, and she eagerly gulps down your load. Then, like the trained slut that she is, Alicia sucks the remaining semen out of your dick, licks it clean, and tucks it away into your boxers.

Not long after that, you’re out the door and on your way to morning practice. Blythe and Lia meet you on the main deck as usual, with the latter pulling you aside to whisper in your ear that Blythe told her what she needs to do. From there, you tackle the day’s routine with your mind laser-focused on the evening meal. Somehow, with your thoughts even more preoccupied than the day before, everything goes without incident until the evening comes. Once the chef comes around with your ration, you make your way to the captain’s quarters. That room where you first met the elven ship captain, where you spent your first minutes in this trial, is where he, Blythe, and all of the officers usually take their meals. This evening, it’s only Blythe and the captain. And soon, you.

You knock on the door.

Blythe doesn’t keep you waiting more than a few seconds before she opens the door and welcomes you inside. The room is mostly the way you remember it: windows spanning the length of the back wall, flanked by doors on either side leading to a rear balcony; the finely carved desk in the center of the room, covered in sea charts and various documents relating to the cargo of the vessel, and all the other furnishings which you subconsciously noticed but didn’t pay any attention to the first time. Blythe leads you towards the back, to a rectangular dining table large enough to seat all of the crew’s officers. Despite its size and the number of chairs, only two plates are set out at the moment: one at either end. Captain Witterel currently sits at one end of the table, watching you with equal parts annoyance and confusion written all over his face.

“Mr. Reynolds,” says the captain. “I am afraid we are predisposed at the moment. I am sure whatever business you have—”

“I invited Evan to eat with us,” says Blythe, pulling out the chair at the other end of the table and offering it to you. You take the seat, admiring the luxurious meal laid before you. The freshly caught fish, stuffed with greens, coated in butter, and giving off a hint of garlic, is leagues above the cured meat rations offered to the rest of the crew. Not even Alicia gets meals like this. Blythe then confiscates your cured meat for herself and takes the seat next to yours. Witterel watches you take a bite of what was undoubtedly meant to be Blythe’s meal, utterly dumbfounded by this turn of events. The fish is as delicious as it looks and smells, sending your taste buds on a journey through paradise.

“W-wait, that is…” says the captain, his eyes flicking between you and Blythe. You savor the flavor for as long as you can, then go for another bite. Blythe told you last night that the officers ate better food than everyone else, but you didn’t think it’d be this much of a jump in quality. As you enjoy the meal, you start to feel more and more assured of what you’re about to do.

Someone who saves all the good food for themselves doesn’t deserve to be captain, anyway.

While you feel more confident, Witterel has a very different change in feeling. “Enough of this farce,” says the elven ship captain, setting his palms on the table in a display of thinly veiled anger. He levels a stern glare in your direction and says, “That meal you are devouring was intended for Ms. Nesimilia. Mr. Reynolds, I humbly request that you leave—”

“Allow me to clear up a misunderstanding,” you say, stopping the flustered elf in his tracks. “I had Blythe set up this private meal with you. I did it because I wanted to talk to you without the other officers around.” That’s actually a lie, you think. This is all Blythe’s idea, after all. “Before we get to that, though,” you say as you turn to the elf beside you, “don’t you have your own misunderstanding to clear up?”

Blythe looks at you, eyes sparkling, and sets down the chunk of cured meat that she was inches away from putting into her mouth. She then turns to Witterel and says, “It seems my behavior has allowed some rumors about you and I to surface among the crew. For my part, they are not true. I am sorry if it seemed that way. It has been my pleasure to work with you, but my heart already belongs to Evan.” Blythe turns to you and smiles warmly, making it absolutely clear that her words are genuine.

You watch the captain carefully. A million questions pop into the elf’s head as his eyes flick between you and Blythe, yet none of them reach his lips. Not a word of denial, nor an attempt to bargain is uttered by the man as you see those thoughts clearly written on his face. It takes almost a full minute for him to process it all and regain his composure. Once he’s calm again, he takes a bite of his own gourmet fish dinner, dabs his mouth with a cloth afterward, and then addresses you with ice cold formality: “I do not appreciate the underhanded manner in which you brought about this private audience, but, seeing as we are here now, I should like to hear the point. State your business, Mr. Reynolds, so that we may be done with it.”