Headed By A Snake

After his workout, he swam toward the Unfortunate, the s.h.i.+p belonging to Guild Invictus. As he drew closer, he spotted a rope ladder hung from the s.h.i.+p"s portside. It interested Hai-- he hadn"t taken any of Guild Invictus as the types to enjoy swimming.

He knew Eilean visited the s.h.i.+p every day to hara.s.s Baron Tycon... but she could use her Sea Witch powers to get on board. Was there anyone else visiting often enough to warrant a ladder?

...Maybe it was for him? ...Hai couldn"t remember the last time anyone did anything nice for him. He didn"t need a ladder, but the thought was nice.

He climbed up to the deck, s.h.i.+vering and holding onto his naked biceps, "Whew. It"s pretty cold up here, is it wiiiiii--"

Hai dropped his jaw at the sight of the crew.

A nearby skeleton mimed cleaning a deck cannon, almost entirely corroded away. Two transparent spirits were singing off-key while mopping the deck-- a single verse of a sea shanty, over and over. An 8 fulm tall growth of seaweed moseyed along, minding its own business.

"GooOod mooOooRning, GrAande-CapitaaAaine--"

The voice came from within Hai"s head, from behind him, from all around him. He swiped a knife-hand at the nearest moving object... beheading a skeleton holding some rope.

The skeleton-worker continued on. Hai relaxed his stance. The crew of the Unfortunate had good work ethic-- he could not fault that.

"...Um." A translucent woman hovered harmlessly in front of Lang Hai, wearing the familiar officer"s uniform of the Royal Navy. She saluted sharply and spoke in a haunting tone, "Good moOoorning, Grande-CapitaAine Lang Hai."

The ghostly sailor emitted a cold that Hai worried chilled his very soul... It made him wish he brought his coat.

Lang Hai knew cold. It was cold all the time. Cold was normal. Sailing on the sea, it got cold. Night was cold. The ice cream he got in Port Caractere, because he was an officer and deserved to try it once in his life, was cold.

It was financially irresponsible to purchase ice cream for his crew, so he didn"t. Rico cried. Stupid Rico, guilting him like that.

The ghostly sailor did observe proper decorum... And the fact that she knew Hai was a High-Captain, even without his coat on, meant she was cognizant of recent events.

So far on the Unfortunate, Hai had only seen good work ethic and well-observed courtesies. He still felt slightly uncomfortable about the lack of... life.

Albeit hesitantly, Hai returned the salute, "Good... morning. I"ve come to inspect the Unfortunate... At ease, err-- what is your rank, exactly?"

The ghost-girl offered a gloomy smile, "In life, I was knOoOown as SecoOond Lieutenant Monet... MonsieuuUur-Capitaine."

"Very well... Lieutenant Monet. I uh... don"t plan on demoting you, so that"s fine..."

Monet floated, staring expectantly. Why was she making this so awkward? Was he the awkward one?

Hai forced a smile, "So... uh... the s.h.i.+p?"

"The UnfooOortunate welcoOmes you, siiir... The crEw awaaAaits your orders~"

...

Around him, ghosts and skeletons and an oversized bundle of seaweed worked tirelessly on the sails and rigging. The slime-woman, First Lieutenant Eilean spoke amicably to her new ghostly female friend, Second Lieutenant Monet.

Hai wondered if Monet earned her rank before or after she died-- it had to have been before, right?

Hai was certain he"s had worse days. He was used to bleeding while a.s.saulting a beach, or worried about the abysmally low funding granted to the Sea Wolves, or trying to make sure Grand-Capitaine Chantal wouldn"t kill him.

Fraternizing with ghosts unnerved him a great deal.

Lang Hai spoke in his deepest, most Captain-like voice, "s.h.i.+p sails, Monet. Good job."

"Excuse us," He grabbed Slime-Eilean"s arm, ignoring the viscous gooey feeling, and dragged the witch away from Monet.

"Eilean, do we really~ reeeeally have to do this?" Hai pleaded in a hushed voice.

The s.h.i.+p was in horrid condition. There were so many holes in the sails that he didn"t know how the s.h.i.+p was keeping up with the others. Everything was rotting worse than even the Elizabeth Dare. And while the s.h.i.+p had a skeleton crew, the term was very literal.

He stared into the blue-translucent liquid where Eilean"s eyes were vaguely formed, "The cannons are all rusted over. There are *barnacles* on them. And look, look at that!"

Hai pointed at a wriggling form on a deck cannon"s opposite side, "That"s a tentacle! It"s not attached to a creature, it"s just growing on the cannon!"

With a huff, Eilean quietly argued back, "Cap"n, ye cannae get cold feet. Ye inspect each and every s.h.i.+p fer seaworthiness. Ye made tha rule yerself."

"It"s got a hole bigger than fatty Ambrose in the hull. It fails. Let"s leave," Hai turned towards the broken railing, fully intent on leaping back into the drink.

"Och, Cap"n!"

The slime-girl melted into the wood, reforming herself to block Hai"s way, "It flooats. Ye cannae discount that... An" it"s not thae only s.h.i.+p in the fleet with a hoole the size of Mister Ambrose, bless his wee meathook-and-chain."

Stupid chain-and-meathook Ambrose. Hai made a mental note to put the oaf on half-rations.

"Okay, great. It pa.s.ses-- Let"s leave."

Slime-Eilean suddenly paused, a wide grin slowly appearing on her face.

"Yanno, Cap"n," Eilean fluttered her slime-eyelashes. Hai stepped back in revulsion-- he had very rarely seen his Lieutenant without her eye-mask.

"...What is it, Eilean?" Hai frowned. That stupid smile, loved by every Sea Wolf in the fleet, was something that Hai learned to be wary of.

"Tha crew of the Unfortunate-- ye dunnae hafta feed them."

Hai tensed all of his muscles. That was certainly cost-effective... The thought tempted him.

Eilean put a hand beside Hai"s ear and whispered the sweetest words he"d ever heard in his life, "Ye dunnae hafta even pay them."

Lang Hai took a deep breath, "I will accept this s.h.i.+p into the Sea Wolf fleet."

Eilean laughed, "Grreat ta hear! Let"s go belowdecks and let Sir Tycon and Mister Wroe know."