Curiosity and Guilt


Chapters

->Ch. I: Curiosity and Guilt
Ch. 2: Gambler and a Squirrel


A red bird


Wind under his wings, warm sun on his back, the smell of the jungle and the sea.

The familiar patchwork of green, white, and blue flashed beneath him as he flew along the usual tour at the edges of his territory. He knew it well; to him, everything here was filled with memories. That’s the tree on which he first landed all those days ago, that’s the rock where you could always find many tasty crabs, over there is the old teak tree where he met his first mate.

He did not know why he still bothered patrolling. For many moons he had not seen a single competitor. Perhaps they had all given up? Still, he continued flying his patrol once every few days. It gave him some peace of mind.

Something unfamiliar was lying on the white sand, a dark shape he did not recognize.

A carcass of some large beast? No, he would have smelled the dead creature’s stench by now. Driftwood carried onto the beach by the waves? Definitely not, this thing was too far from the coast for anything but a large storm to have carried it there.

He circled above the unrecognized dark object, his mind racing in search for answers. It was some sort of a concave shape like the empty shell of a clam. Something in the shape was familiar, but he could not find the right concept for it. He flew downward and gently landed on the edge of the clam-shell-shaped thing. He hopped along its edge, looking at it from different angles.

The sun had made it dry and warm, but the smell of the sea was still emanating from it. There was another smell. A smell which made all the pieces of this puzzle come together, the scent of humans. The clam shell-shaped wooden object was one of those things the humans used to float on water! This one was a little bit different from the ones he had seen before. It was made of darker wood, it shape was.. off. Not by much but a little. The smell was also different from the usual. Somehow it felt less… potent? There was also something else, a scent that reminded him of flowering trees but not of any kind he could recognize.

The wind changed direction. A new scent, a rustle in the undergrowth at the jungle’s edge, a pair of front-facing eyes. Before it all registered in his mind, his instincts had already made him take flight.


. . .


The cries of seabirds, the sound of the waves, the barely audible but comfortably familiar creaking of a wooden ship. The black, gold, and silver flag waved lazily in the gentle breeze. Far below, on the deck of the Red Friday, an old Captain was anxiously peering at the shoreline through his brass spyglass. It had been almost half a day since he had sent the translator and Jay to meet the natives, they should have returned hours ago. Fear, uncertainty, and doubt pressed on his mind. He was not a very imaginative man, but despite that his thoughts were intruded by violent images involving savages and jungle beasts.

The creaking of the ship and the sound of this sea whose local name he had not cared to learn had a calming effect on him. Were he not on the Red Friday, his home, he would have cracked by now. Or at least he thought.

An unexpected color ripped through the air, a vibrant red falling from the sky. A colorful bird landed on the edge of the rowboat Jay had dragged onto the beach, the little animal hopping along the edges of the dark wooden boat as if trying to measure it. One could only imagine what thoughts whizzed through the tiny mind of that curious animal.

His mind wandered back to the mission. To the ship, what lay beneath the deck. Pity, frustration, anger. NO! He stopped the thoughts. This was his job. He had accepted it and now he had to carry it out, even if it was against his better judgement. Good employees follow orders. Good employees hold their ends of the contract. I am a good employee. Or so he thought.

Resignation.

“Movement at 1 o’clock from the ship!” Carter’s voice shouted from the mast. The Captain removed his gaze from the boat and scanned the edge of the jungle again. The bird had already left.

He glimpsed a bushy tail. Two fluffy ears perked up as a pair of emerald eyes stared straight at him from the undergrowth. As soon as he saw them, or perhaps as soon as they saw him, the creature was gone.

“What the hell are squirrelfolk doing here?” muttered Aaron, the cook who was beside him. The Captain had no answer to give.

Vollvornar,” proclaimed a male voice behind the two. “Children of those captured long ago.”

The Captain recognized the voice of the pale tattooed witch but did not turn to face him. No, he refused to honor the man by acknowledging his words. Oblivious, or perhaps uncaring, the lofty bald man leaned against the railing next to him. The sickly-sweet smell of the white liquid drug, the stench embodying the witch’s addiction, overpowered the gentle aroma of the sea. It disgusted him. The witch raised his hand to cover his eyes from the oppressive sunlight. Blue on white, the skin of the witch was covered in symbols which the Captain could not at all recognize, symbols which the Captain cared not to learn to recognize.

“They are now with the tribes. The rest must be close.”, the witch continued.

So, some do survive. Some small ease of mind, perhaps enough to let him sleep tonight. Or at least he hoped.

Movement appeared at the edge of the jungle. Tall figures stepped out, carrying spears and knives. They were savage warriors, decorated in leather and bone. Directly behind them there were two shorter and paler creatures. They were Jay and the translator, both unharmed, though Jay’s fur was in serious need of grooming. What a relief.

Jay, elated after seeing the Red Friday again after what must have had been hours of trekking through the jungle, gave the captain a series of hand signals. Even though he was prepared, even though he knew that this was the most likely outcome, the meaning of the signals made his heart sink:

”SUCCESS”

”UNLOAD THE CARGO”

”COME”

The Captain let out a deep sigh as he folded his spyglass and gave out the order.
The crew sprang into action. Only the witch remained, standing next to him. He was deep in thought, looking at the ocean water down below. Did he also have doubts?

Men shouted orders, his orders. The sound of the crew frantically running on wooden decks was deafening. Somewhere below the decks, a girl began to cry. That sound pierced through everything in the Captain’s world.

He regretted taking on this mission. He wished he had been sent to somewhere else, carrying a more wholesome cargo. No, even if he rejected the offer, someone else would have taken the mission. Maybe someone even more heartless than him.
He hardened his heart. A good employee follows orders.

He wanted back home. Back to the Serene Republic.

The cold sound of iron chains rattled as the crying becoming louder. More voices, but not of his men. These were weaker. Voices of those who had not seen the light of day for weeks.

Someone recognized the shores. Someone said something in a panicked voice. Despair became fear and crying turned to frantic begging, but the begging fell on deaf ears.

A good employee holds his end of the contract. He was bound to it by honor.

He muttered a word of prayer for the souls of the sixty-four. With luck, they could become like those Voll-something squirrelfolk. In his heart, he knew that was merely a way to cope.

Splash. A boat was lowered onto the water. On the boat was the witch and the ship’s crewmen Lester, Buck, and Allis. A second boat was being lowered, on it were the crewmen Roger and Edward. Enos was beckoning the Captain to climb on the boat with them. Enos climbed in after him and then lowered the boat into the clear water below.

As Edward rowed them closer to the shore, the Captain looked back at the Red Friday. More boats were being prepared and loaded with the cargo. The black, gold, and silver flag waved lazily in the gentle breeze.


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Pub: 06 May 2022 18:12 UTC
Edit: 09 Nov 2022 17:34 UTC
Views: 885