What little light did manage to seep in from the floorboards above, dimly lit the ships hold below like a single flicker of fire dancing in the the darkness. The air hung thick and stale, heavy with the stench of salt, rot, sweat and something foul beneath it all.
A handful of bodies filled the darkness, though they were more sensed than seen. Not a single one of them spoke, not because they were forbidden, but because words had no purpose here. They who had once reigned over this place with laughter, could do nothing but wait for whatever retribution was going to come for them down here now. It was that despair that kept them quiet.
Roswell himself sat amongst them, slumped down where the chain and it's limited reach allowed him, it's bite constant around his wrists and ankles, keeping him from even a moments worth of comfort. And the fact that they constantly held a pull over his soul essence didn't help him either.
'How did things end up like this.. I really still wonder.'
Once, he had been immaculate. His clothing once fashionable and pristine, now clung to him in stiff, stained layers. Dirt had worked it's way into the fabric, into the seams, as well as him, and now began to pull it all apart.
Everything still felt so surreal. One moment he had just woken up from his nap, and the next, he found himself a prisoner in his own ship.
All because he had lost pathetically.
And now imprisoned, he sat here forced to feel the suffering of the countless people he had thrown down here before. But unlike them, his own fate was uncertain.
'Will they turn me into the navy? Or just finish me off once and for all?'
Or maybe even torture him for information that they coud possibly profit off from somehow. Despite being a hired hand, he had worked alongside the war realm for many years now, and had come to be very respectful in that field. There were things that he knew about them that only a handful of people would've heard about, things that could shake very the foundation of this war if used correctly.
Well, he had a contingency for that so it wasn't an issue. The only problem was surviving long enough until they could prove it was futile.
So for now, there was nothing that could be done. He could only sit and wait.
'Fortune comes to those who wait!'
And then, without warning, the darkness ahead of him was torn apart. Firelight surged down the stairwell as it forced the shadows to recoil, revealing the tired faces of everyone for what felt like the first time in an eternity.
The sudden light was almost painful..
"Turn it down damnit!!"
From that light, two figures descended.
The first came steady and sure, the fire catching in his raven-dark hair, turning it's edges to a flickering bronze with green eyes that were dull like unpolished emerald. In both of his arms, he carried a large wooden barrel as he walked behind the other.
Standing ahead of him was...
Roswell said, his voice filled with hostility,
"You."
It was another boy holding on tightly to his crutch, as well as the torch resting in his free hand. Bandages were wrapped around him in many layers still, and he looked to be in somewhat poor health, and yet he stood there with a peculiar brightness that was different from the fire burning next to him.
Looking down upon the sorry state that he was in, Azdin couldn't help but sigh with pity.
"Let's have a chat."
**
"Have a chat? There is nothing to talk about. I have nothing to say to you. Begone already!"
Dropping the barrel, Hugo marched over towards Rowell hastily, as he rammed his foot square into his chest. The chained man could only keel over in pain while sluring out in anger.
"Who the hell do you think you are to be barking orders at us huh?? You're the one in chains right now, bastard!"
He so desperately wanted to shout back, but he couldn't even manifest the strength to do that anymore. Either way, Hugo was right. He was the one in chains, while the two boys whom he had captured were now standing above him triumphantly. Recognising the dark reality of his situation once more, he could only sulk in silence.
Reluctantly, but still sounding aggressive he asked,
"So what do you want from me? If it's info on war empire, don't bother wasting your time. Kill me now."
Azdin raised an eyebrow, as he turned to Hugo. But he just shook his head.
"No, I'm not interested in that."
Sounding equally confused, he questioned.
"You're not?"
It was strange, if anyone else had been in his position right now they would've been eager to jump on the opportunity.. but Azdin seemed completely blind to that. Or maybe it was just that he was too ignorant to even think of doing it.
'But that dark haired.. Hugo was it? He'd do it. Maybe he'll begin once this one leaves.'
This one was smart enough to lie to him about their identities, so he'd understand his actual value more than the other. In fact, out of the two he was the most cautious of him.
Kicking the barrel over to Roswell, Azdin flipped it onto it's flat side before sitting down. Then, slamming the butt if his crutch down, he locked eyes with the defeated privateer.
"Let's clear somethings out of the way first.."
Seeing him clearly now, Roswell really was worse for wear. When they first met, he couldn't really tell what was on his mind. It wasn't like Lotte who tried to mask her true feelings with a false smile, but more likely that he was just so experienced at his job, that it smothered everything thing else about him out.
But now that he had been stripped away from that position, he could see him for who he truly was. And that was..
"Ya know, I was pretty confused when you said I killed your son."
'I didn't get a notification from that sorcery so I know for sure that I didn't. Instead of checking, why did he react like that?'
Another look of surprise flashed across his face, as he then glanced down at Drewey. The blonde youth was fast asleep right next to him, having been done in by the essence absorbing cuffs.
Looking back at him, he spat,
"What of it? Should a parent not get angry over his son being hurt?"
In hindsight, the answer was quite obvious. And in response to that, he laughed as he joked.
"Well, I guess that's true."
Although he laughed, he seemed to grow somber, as though there was an upsetting irony in what he had said. Unwilling to play this game though, Roswell questioned him once more with that same angry tone.
"What does that matter to you anyway? What do you want from me? Out with it already!"
Moving on from that mood, the air around him suddenly changed. Although he came in looking a little more laid back than Hugo did, something about him had become more serious too.
He wasn't angry per say, but it was clear that he wouldn't joke any longer.
Finally, he uttered,
"I want to understand you."