To the normal observer, the Deadheart is a dirty ship covered in moss, barnacles, and decaying wood. The ship looks derelict. Filthy, blackened sails hang, sloppily reefed, from its three masts. Seaweed twines through the fouled anchor chains. All but the highest leveled [Captains] would scoff at the notion this ship could sail.
“You can't be serious,” Abernick scoffs, “It looks like it should be in a scrapyard. I can't even believe it’s floating. Couldn’t the [Empress] have offered us a better ship?” he looks to the [Attorney General] that brought them to the vessel, “Where’s the ship’s [Captain]?”
Aforus stands firm with hands behind his back. He glances around the port, displeased with the many laws getting broken in front of his eyes.
“[Captain] Jenah Jones is currently still in custody until all the protocols of her release are fulfilled. I expect her full release tomorrow, sometime in the evening,” he extends his hand to the ship, “Regardless, she has already signed a binding contract of temporary ownership of both herself as a [Captain] and her ship, the Deadheart, for an entire year. As for the ship, though it may not look impressive, it is indeed one of the more capable vessels in port.”
Abernick frowns skeptically, as do the women. The ship really doesn't look that impressive to them. The [Grand Necromancer] turns to the leader of the group, “Bone, what are your thoughts about the ship?”
Quasi frowns. The ship looks like shit, but not unfunctional shit. Though the wood looks aged, rotted, and old, it seems to be watertight. The sails are dirty but intact. The shrouds and stays are grimy but not frayed. Its ram is rusty, but not pitted or cracked.
As for the inside? Well, he can’t sense anything because the whole ship is smothered in enchantments, and not weak ones, either. Whoever enchanted the ship is as high, or an even higher level [Enchanter] than himself.
“I need to check something before I can give a proper answer.” He looks to the [Attorney General]. “Aforus, do we have permission to board the ship or do we have to wait for the [Captain]?”
“The ship is legally your property for an entire year,” he promptly answers.
Quasi clasps his hands with a delighted smile. “Perfect! Let's go aboard and test something.”
The group strolls up the plank and onto the ship's deck. Like the hull, the deck is a dirty mess of fish corpses, bones, and decaying wood. Really, it looks like someone dunked the whole vessel underwater.
After a quick survey, Quasi’s eyes find the one thing that will determine the true worth of the shabby vessel. Nay, it will decide on whether the ship is even worthy to be allowed as his vessel!
Aforus extends a key ring to Quasi, but the [Hero] shakes his head.
“I doubt I will be needing that,” he says.
He scrutinizes the weathered wood planks bound together with tarnished brass straps. They hang surprisingly squarely on equally tarnished hinges. A simple knob with a lock keeps the unhinged side of the apparatus in place and bars the way to the uninvited. It’s a ceaseless guardian that protects everything at its back.
But, like all creations, the manifestation of a thing does not always achieve its ideal. Thus, like the great [Philosopher] Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, it comes down to a single man, a solitary human, to break the illusion, to seek out the genuine article, and bring truth to the masses. His task is thankless and oft reviled, but he must continue forward so that one day men and women both may step forward through the broken splinters of a ruined gateway and see the true light beyond the shadows.
The [Door Gentleman] slowly walks up to the cabin’s entrance. He gazes at it, evaluating it in detail, and finds it lacking. Old, grayish black wood, a bronze knob, and an adamantium reinforced steel latch; its looks are not exemplary, and would garner a low score, but the worth of a door is not primarily in its looks.
Appearances, like shadows, may be deceiving.
The [Door Gentleman] doffs his hat, showing respect to that ancient, weathered sentinel.
Then, ever so slowly, he raises his leg back. He feels his mana churn as his skills activate. The world dwindles as he focuses.
Then his leg snaps forward with the crack of a thunderclap. His boot strikes the door with an even louder boom. A glowing ripple washes down the ship as enchantments disperse the ferocious impact for Quasi’s kick. The ripple hits the water line and the ship bobs as the energy of the kick is delivered to the water, dousing the dock and everyone nearby in a sheet of spray.
The [Door Gentleman] retracts his foot and assesses the damage. At the spot he struck the door, the wood is bent inward and cracked above and below the divot. Damaged but not defeated, the door holds fast.
“Seven out of ten,” Quasi calls out, impressed. Then his eyes widen, “Wait,” he exclaims with interest.
Right before his eyes, he watches the wood return to its place. The cracks heal and recover in a way that almost seems alive. Within ten seconds, the door is back to its original integrity, albeit with a clear sign that a wound had occurred before.
“Belay my last score. This door is an eight out of ten.”
He turns to his team. Each member shows a markedly different reaction. Abernick smiles cheekily, Jessica cocks one eyebrow skeptically, Naunet looks confused, Fiona shakes her head, and Aforus… nods approvingly. The [Attorney General] fully understands the need to properly test and ensure safe standards for all objects, even doors.
Test completed, Quasi grabs the keyring and opens the door into the ship. As the door opens without a squeak, the [Hero] is struck with the smell of death and decay.
“What the hell?” he coughs out as he steps back in surprise. His team, though farther away, covers their noses from the smell.
“Damn, smells like something died in there, and then just kept dying.” Abernick grimaces.
Quasi nods and gags. “Yeah, looks like we’re going to need to clean the whole ship before we can make ourselves at home.”
He leans down, reaches into his shadow and retrieves three bags of coins. Then, he throws one at Naunet. The [Head Slave] panics with a squeal as she barely catches the sack.
“Naunet, go hire some cleaning help. This entire ship is going to need a good scrubbing.”
“Yes Master,” she replies immediately before running off.
He throws another bag at Fiona, who catches it with a single hand.
“Fiona, we’re going to need a lot of food. Whatever’s down there is probably mush. If I need to, I’ll apply a [Preservation] enchantment to one of the ship's holds to keep it from spoiling.”
“I'll get to it,” she says before also running off.
Quasi throws the last bag at Jessica, who doesn't even move to catch it. Instead, a glowing tentacle of golden light sprouts from her shadow and catches the bag for her. The tentacle then calmly places it in her open palm.
He raised an eyebrow. “When did you–actually, nevermind,” he cuts himself off. “We can talk later. Jess, I need you to get a lot of paint. Enough paint to cover the whole ship.
“What color?” she asks.
Quasi smiles deviously.
“Red.”
_____________________________________________________________
As Naunet counts the fortune in her hands, she can't help but think her Master must want something more than merely cleaning help. A mere thousandth of the funds would be enough to hire an entire team of [Maids] to clean the ship. Cleaning is cheap and inexpensive, and Naunet doubts her master would be giving her a literal fortune for no reason.
“Unless!” Her eyes pop open with her epiphany. Her master is an [Emperor]. He doesn't require a single cleaning. He requires a team dedicated to keeping the ship as clean as possible at all times!
Finally understanding what her master truly wants, Naunet rushes to the Royal Maid Academy.
The Academy is situated right next to the palace and is one of the most prestigious organizations in the entire empire. There, young [Maids] and [Butlers] are trained to properly serve in any royal household. They learn reading, writing, etiquette, cleaning, cooking, and all the myriad other tasks that might be entrusted to them. The very best and brightest graduates of the Academy may even be hired to work in the palace itself.
As Naunet enters the academy grounds, she can't help but envy the students of the academy. When she was young and her parents died, she’d thought of selling herself to the academy to become a [Slave Maid], and eventualy a [Royal Slave Maid] after a decade or two of training. Instead, Naunet had to take care of her younger sister until her sister was old enough to enroll. Then, she sold herself as a [Slave] and payed for her sister’s entrance into the academy.
Naunet walks up the steps of the administration building and shoves away the cloth covering that her master detests. When she enters, a young [Footman] training for his [Butler] class greets her with a bow.
“Welcome to the Royal Maid Academy. I am [Footman] Jonathan. What is the reason for your visit?”
Naunet curtseys. “I am [Head Slave] Naunet. My master is in dire need of trained [Maids]. To whom should I inquire?”
Jonathan nods. “Ah, then you will want to speak with one of the [Maid Traders]. Please follow me.”
Naunet nods and follows the [Footman] deeper into the building. As she walks through the hallway, she glances into the classrooms where classes are currently ongoing. [Butlers] and [Maids] are teaching students their ways; how to speak, how to walk and move, how to control emotions, most of the skills that took Naunet years to learn through sometimes painful experience are taught to these students in mere weeks in a classroom. Granted, they aren't going to gain as many levels this way, but they will still be at an advantage.
Jonathan leads Naunet to a door marked Contract Negotiation. The [Footman] opens the door and waves her in with a slight bow. Naunet enters the room and is met with a desk and a shawled woman sitting behind it. The woman glances up and freezes. Her eyes go round.
“Naunet,” the woman utters in surprise.
Naunet smiles as she intuits the tone and voice. “Malaka! It's been a long while. Seems you’ve done well with your studies.”
Malaka stands up from her desk as tears start running down her cheeks. She rushes around the desk and nearly jumps into Naunet’s arms. Naunet pulls her sister close with a hug.
“You’re back!” Malaka cries and nestles her head into her sister's neck. Naunet smiles happily as she rubs Malaka’s back. “It’s good to see you too, Mala.”
After a good minute of crying and embracing, the two disengage from their hug. Naunet reaches into her pocket and grabs a handkerchief to wipe Malaka’s tears. “I’m not a child anymore,” Malaka complains but she doesn't try to stop Naunet.
“You’re not,” Naunet agrees, “but you’re still my little sister.”
“Always,” Malaka sniffs with reddened eyes. She blinks the last of the tears away and smiles. “Come, sit!” She drags Naunet into a chair. “We have so much to talk about.”
Naunet complies and sits down. She watches Malaka rush behind the desk and do the same. She glances out the open door. “Jonathan,” Malaka calls, “close the door and make sure nobody bothers me for the rest of the day. I’ll be busy.”
The [Butler] bows and closes the door.
She then looks, truly looks, at her older sister. Naunet is older, but still as beautiful as she ever was. Her hands are calloused, but her hair flows freely down her shoulders. She wears a dress, modest to be sure, though with a slight reveal of a bare ankle. In truth, she looks more like an eastern peasant taking taking a rare day on the town than a [Slave].
But her level 75 [Head Slave] class speaks for itself.
“You shame your master with the amount of skin you’re showing,” she states with a disapproving look that somehow still looks like a smile, which it probably still is. Malaka can't very well frown at a sister she hasn’t seen for an entire decade, and might never have seen again.
Naunet chuckles softly. She’d agree if her master was almost anyone else. A [Slave] should allways be covered up as much as possible to show their low status in society.
“My master is an [Emperor] and currently the consort of [Empress] Cleopatra.” Naunet declares proudly.
Malaka’s mouth goes agape. “You… Then the rumors are true, the [Empress] has found a lover.” she frowns, “But an [Emperor]? Here? Does it have anything to do with the crystal vermis outside Luxor?”
Naunet sighs. “It's complicated, and I wish I could explain everything, but I’m in a bit of a rush.” Naunet raises and places a sack on the desk. It makes a heavy metal noise as it impacts the surface. “My master is in dire need of as many [Maids] this will buy me. He needs them now and may retain them indefinitely. Also, they can’t get seasick.”
Malaka reaches forward and opens the bag. Her eyes go round at the quantity of golden drachme. “Why would you need so many–Ahh, Right. An [Emperor] would need many servants.”
Malaka lets go of the bag and leans back into her chair. “Do you want contracted [Maids] or permanent [Slave Maids]?”
“[Slave Maids] are prefered.”
“You’re leaving the continent?”
Naunet nods.
Malaka squints. “And you will be leaving with him.”
Naunet straightens her back and nods again. “It is a [Slave]’s duty to follow and support their master wherever he may go.”
Malaka sighs. “Very well, I can have the [Slave Maids] purchased and ownership transferred by tonight,” she raises a finger, “but while that’s being done, you’re going to tell me everything that’s happened to you, understood?”
Naunet opens her mouth to explain that she’s in a bit of a rush, but one look at her hopeful sister changes her mind. Naunet sighs with a smile. “Understood.”
To the normal observer, the Deadheart is a dirty ship covered in moss, barnacles, and decaying wood. The ship looks derelict. Filthy, blackened sails hang, sloppily reefed, from its three masts. Seaweed twines through the fouled anchor chains. All but the highest leveled [Captains] would scoff at the notion this ship could sail.
“You can't be serious,” Abernick scoffs, “It looks like it should be in a scrapyard. I can't even believe it’s floating. Couldn’t the [Empress] have offered us a better ship?” he looks to the [Attorney General] that brought them to the vessel, “Where’s the ship’s [Captain]?”
Aforus stands firm with hands behind his back. He glances around the port, displeased with the many laws getting broken in front of his eyes.
“[Captain] Jenah Jones is currently still in custody until all the protocols of her release are fulfilled. I expect her full release tomorrow, sometime in the evening,” he extends his hand to the ship, “Regardless, she has already signed a binding contract of temporary ownership of both herself as a [Captain] and her ship, the Deadheart, for an entire year. As for the ship, though it may not look impressive, it is indeed one of the more capable vessels in port.”
Abernick frowns skeptically, as do the women. The ship really doesn't look that impressive to them. The [Grand Necromancer] turns to the leader of the group, “Bone, what are your thoughts about the ship?”
Quasi frowns. The ship looks like shit, but not unfunctional shit. Though the wood looks aged, rotted, and old, it seems to be watertight. The sails are dirty but intact. The shrouds and stays are grimy but not frayed. Its ram is rusty, but not pitted or cracked.
As for the inside? Well, he can’t sense anything because the whole ship is smothered in enchantments, and not weak ones, either. Whoever enchanted the ship is as high, or an even higher level [Enchanter] than himself.
“I need to check something before I can give a proper answer.” He looks to the [Attorney General]. “Aforus, do we have permission to board the ship or do we have to wait for the [Captain]?”
“The ship is legally your property for an entire year,” he promptly answers.
Quasi clasps his hands with a delighted smile. “Perfect! Let's go aboard and test something.”
The group strolls up the plank and onto the ship's deck. Like the hull, the deck is a dirty mess of fish corpses, bones, and decaying wood. Really, it looks like someone dunked the whole vessel underwater.
After a quick survey, Quasi’s eyes find the one thing that will determine the true worth of the shabby vessel. Nay, it will decide on whether the ship is even worthy to be allowed as his vessel!
Aforus extends a key ring to Quasi, but the [Hero] shakes his head.
“I doubt I will be needing that,” he says.
He scrutinizes the weathered wood planks bound together with tarnished brass straps. They hang surprisingly squarely on equally tarnished hinges. A simple knob with a lock keeps the unhinged side of the apparatus in place and bars the way to the uninvited. It’s a ceaseless guardian that protects everything at its back.
But, like all creations, the manifestation of a thing does not always achieve its ideal. Thus, like the great [Philosopher] Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, it comes down to a single man, a solitary human, to break the illusion, to seek out the genuine article, and bring truth to the masses. His task is thankless and oft reviled, but he must continue forward so that one day men and women both may step forward through the broken splinters of a ruined gateway and see the true light beyond the shadows.
The [Door Gentleman] slowly walks up to the cabin’s entrance. He gazes at it, evaluating it in detail, and finds it lacking. Old, grayish black wood, a bronze knob, and an adamantium reinforced steel latch; its looks are not exemplary, and would garner a low score, but the worth of a door is not primarily in its looks.
Appearances, like shadows, may be deceiving.
The [Door Gentleman] doffs his hat, showing respect to that ancient, weathered sentinel.
Then, ever so slowly, he raises his leg back. He feels his mana churn as his skills activate. The world dwindles as he focuses.
Then his leg snaps forward with the crack of a thunderclap. His boot strikes the door with an even louder boom. A glowing ripple washes down the ship as enchantments disperse the ferocious impact for Quasi’s kick. The ripple hits the water line and the ship bobs as the energy of the kick is delivered to the water, dousing the dock and everyone nearby in a sheet of spray.
The [Door Gentleman] retracts his foot and assesses the damage. At the spot he struck the door, the wood is bent inward and cracked above and below the divot. Damaged but not defeated, the door holds fast.
“Seven out of ten,” Quasi calls out, impressed. Then his eyes widen, “Wait,” he exclaims with interest.
Right before his eyes, he watches the wood return to its place. The cracks heal and recover in a way that almost seems alive. Within ten seconds, the door is back to its original integrity, albeit with a clear sign that a wound had occurred before.
“Belay my last score. This door is an eight out of ten.”
He turns to his team. Each member shows a markedly different reaction. Abernick smiles cheekily, Jessica cocks one eyebrow skeptically, Naunet looks confused, Fiona shakes her head, and Aforus… nods approvingly. The [Attorney General] fully understands the need to properly test and ensure safe standards for all objects, even doors.
Test completed, Quasi grabs the keyring and opens the door into the ship. As the door opens without a squeak, the [Hero] is struck with the smell of death and decay.
“What the hell?” he coughs out as he steps back in surprise. His team, though farther away, covers their noses from the smell.
“Damn, smells like something died in there, and then just kept dying.” Abernick grimaces.
Quasi nods and gags. “Yeah, looks like we’re going to need to clean the whole ship before we can make ourselves at home.”
He leans down, reaches into his shadow and retrieves three bags of coins. Then, he throws one at Naunet. The [Head Slave] panics with a squeal as she barely catches the sack.
“Naunet, go hire some cleaning help. This entire ship is going to need a good scrubbing.”
“Yes Master,” she replies immediately before running off.
He throws another bag at Fiona, who catches it with a single hand.
“Fiona, we’re going to need a lot of food. Whatever’s down there is probably mush. If I need to, I’ll apply a [Preservation] enchantment to one of the ship's holds to keep it from spoiling.”
“I'll get to it,” she says before also running off.
Quasi throws the last bag at Jessica, who doesn't even move to catch it. Instead, a glowing tentacle of golden light sprouts from her shadow and catches the bag for her. The tentacle then calmly places it in her open palm.
He raised an eyebrow. “When did you–actually, nevermind,” he cuts himself off. “We can talk later. Jess, I need you to get a lot of paint. Enough paint to cover the whole ship.
“What color?” she asks.
Quasi smiles deviously.
“Red.”
_____________________________________________________________
As Naunet counts the fortune in her hands, she can't help but think her Master must want something more than merely cleaning help. A mere thousandth of the funds would be enough to hire an entire team of [Maids] to clean the ship. Cleaning is cheap and inexpensive, and Naunet doubts her master would be giving her a literal fortune for no reason.
“Unless!” Her eyes pop open with her epiphany. Her master is an [Emperor]. He doesn't require a single cleaning. He requires a team dedicated to keeping the ship as clean as possible at all times!
Finally understanding what her master truly wants, Naunet rushes to the Royal Maid Academy.
The Academy is situated right next to the palace and is one of the most prestigious organizations in the entire empire. There, young [Maids] and [Butlers] are trained to properly serve in any royal household. They learn reading, writing, etiquette, cleaning, cooking, and all the myriad other tasks that might be entrusted to them. The very best and brightest graduates of the Academy may even be hired to work in the palace itself.
As Naunet enters the academy grounds, she can't help but envy the students of the academy. When she was young and her parents died, she’d thought of selling herself to the academy to become a [Slave Maid], and eventualy a [Royal Slave Maid] after a decade or two of training. Instead, Naunet had to take care of her younger sister until her sister was old enough to enroll. Then, she sold herself as a [Slave] and payed for her sister’s entrance into the academy.
Naunet walks up the steps of the administration building and shoves away the cloth covering that her master detests. When she enters, a young [Footman] training for his [Butler] class greets her with a bow.
“Welcome to the Royal Maid Academy. I am [Footman] Jonathan. What is the reason for your visit?”
Naunet curtseys. “I am [Head Slave] Naunet. My master is in dire need of trained [Maids]. To whom should I inquire?”
Jonathan nods. “Ah, then you will want to speak with one of the [Maid Traders]. Please follow me.”
Naunet nods and follows the [Footman] deeper into the building. As she walks through the hallway, she glances into the classrooms where classes are currently ongoing. [Butlers] and [Maids] are teaching students their ways; how to speak, how to walk and move, how to control emotions, most of the skills that took Naunet years to learn through sometimes painful experience are taught to these students in mere weeks in a classroom. Granted, they aren't going to gain as many levels this way, but they will still be at an advantage.
Jonathan leads Naunet to a door marked Contract Negotiation. The [Footman] opens the door and waves her in with a slight bow. Naunet enters the room and is met with a desk and a shawled woman sitting behind it. The woman glances up and freezes. Her eyes go round.
“Naunet,” the woman utters in surprise.
Naunet smiles as she intuits the tone and voice. “Malaka! It's been a long while. Seems you’ve done well with your studies.”
Malaka stands up from her desk as tears start running down her cheeks. She rushes around the desk and nearly jumps into Naunet’s arms. Naunet pulls her sister close with a hug.
“You’re back!” Malaka cries and nestles her head into her sister's neck. Naunet smiles happily as she rubs Malaka’s back. “It’s good to see you too, Mala.”
After a good minute of crying and embracing, the two disengage from their hug. Naunet reaches into her pocket and grabs a handkerchief to wipe Malaka’s tears. “I’m not a child anymore,” Malaka complains but she doesn't try to stop Naunet.
“You’re not,” Naunet agrees, “but you’re still my little sister.”
“Always,” Malaka sniffs with reddened eyes. She blinks the last of the tears away and smiles. “Come, sit!” She drags Naunet into a chair. “We have so much to talk about.”
Naunet complies and sits down. She watches Malaka rush behind the desk and do the same. She glances out the open door. “Jonathan,” Malaka calls, “close the door and make sure nobody bothers me for the rest of the day. I’ll be busy.”
The [Butler] bows and closes the door.
She then looks, truly looks, at her older sister. Naunet is older, but still as beautiful as she ever was. Her hands are calloused, but her hair flows freely down her shoulders. She wears a dress, modest to be sure, though with a slight reveal of a bare ankle. In truth, she looks more like an eastern peasant taking taking a rare day on the town than a [Slave].
But her level 75 [Head Slave] class speaks for itself.
“You shame your master with the amount of skin you’re showing,” she states with a disapproving look that somehow still looks like a smile, which it probably still is. Malaka can't very well frown at a sister she hasn’t seen for an entire decade, and might never have seen again.
Naunet chuckles softly. She’d agree if her master was almost anyone else. A [Slave] should allways be covered up as much as possible to show their low status in society.
“My master is an [Emperor] and currently the consort of [Empress] Cleopatra.” Naunet declares proudly.
Malaka’s mouth goes agape. “You… Then the rumors are true, the [Empress] has found a lover.” she frowns, “But an [Emperor]? Here? Does it have anything to do with the crystal vermis outside Luxor?”
Naunet sighs. “It's complicated, and I wish I could explain everything, but I’m in a bit of a rush.” Naunet raises and places a sack on the desk. It makes a heavy metal noise as it impacts the surface. “My master is in dire need of as many [Maids] this will buy me. He needs them now and may retain them indefinitely. Also, they can’t get seasick.”
Malaka reaches forward and opens the bag. Her eyes go round at the quantity of golden drachme. “Why would you need so many–Ahh, Right. An [Emperor] would need many servants.”
Malaka lets go of the bag and leans back into her chair. “Do you want contracted [Maids] or permanent [Slave Maids]?”
“[Slave Maids] are prefered.”
“You’re leaving the continent?”
Naunet nods.
Malaka squints. “And you will be leaving with him.”
Naunet straightens her back and nods again. “It is a [Slave]’s duty to follow and support their master wherever he may go.”
Malaka sighs. “Very well, I can have the [Slave Maids] purchased and ownership transferred by tonight,” she raises a finger, “but while that’s being done, you’re going to tell me everything that’s happened to you, understood?”
Naunet opens her mouth to explain that she’s in a bit of a rush, but one look at her hopeful sister changes her mind. Naunet sighs with a smile. “Understood.”
