22nd of Spring, 516 AV
Eyes seemed to be on Theo at every turn. As it turned out, Brayden was not going to let Theo expose his betrayal so easily. Theo now spent all his time in the day sleeping and all his nights awake. He no longer drank ale when invited, and served himself all his meals. He spoke very little and only when needed. There was a stillness in the air now, brewing anticipation swallowed more minds than his own, and when Theo caught men chatting their words quickly stopped. They all think I’m Novenam’s lackey. Brayden means to turn them all against the captain, and I’m the one standing in their way. Usually it’s my own mouth that gets me into trouble, not someone else’s.
Tonight Theo rose especially late. He had grown bored in the early morning and when no one was around he dipped in the ale for the first time in a week. Theo woke with a need for rations and so he went to go serve himself some salted salmon, hard black bread, and a dried orange. Men had been complaining of weakness as of late, and Theo could not suffer such an ill.
Once he finished he headed back up to the deck and began training his longsword. With two hands Theo cleaved down an old post. Theo found it hard to concentrate with so much on his mind, but training always stilled his focus. One hit from the right would allow him to stab into an opening on the left. A cleave down the middle left his opponent vulnerable to a kick. One after the other the strikes and combos were being laid down, Theo’s combos were now reflecting profeciency.
The dummy ate three more vicious strikes, the wood clinging was the only sound on deck, but Theo did not hear even that. He struck until his arms were weak, and then laid more strikes on. Theo fought as if the dummy meant to take his life, and in his mind it did.
Theo finally stopped, panting heavily as he stared at the carvings he made on the wood, Theo would need a new target if he kept up this pace. Diverting his eyes to the poop deck, Theo could see Brayden at the stern as he was most nights. Tonight’s your night, nuit. I’m gonna draw a wet smile on your face.
Theo slipped off into the midship. There was mugs of ale about and the underbelly of Precious reeked of piss and gas. The wretches have all had their fill, their eyes won’t see me behind a drum of ale. Still, Theo was better off being quiet. He tip toed his way towards the first mate’s cabin, trying to avoid some of the creaks that lingered in the coarse wood.
He did not see the looking scope under his foot before he kicked halfway across the mid deck. Theo stopped in mid step as the cylinder rattled across the humps of the floor. His mouth dropped open until it clanked against the very quarters he meant to tip toe towards. Lucky enough for him, however, it seemed no one took any keen notice of the sound, and if they had their sleep was more important than checking.
I'm just drunk, not stumbling in the dark.
