"Thank you," said Captain Bastian Black, still feeling all sorts of wonky from the lack of proper sleep. "It's a fine thing to have a wife."
"I would expect a man to think like that after just recently getting married. But wait for a few years…"
They chuckled together, sharing one of the oldest jokes in existence.
"I have something that needs to be taken care of, Captain," Tilda said. "You will not like it."
She sounded completely serious. The mood had changed in less than three seconds.
He had a reason to be on the edge. The crew was most likely under the influence of some highly dark magic, and the culprit had not yet been found. Bastian had his suspicions, but for now, he could only try to keep the women calm.
"I would like to hear a brief explanation, Tilda," Bastian said, with a grave seriousness that seemingly matched the situation.
However, it was such a beautiful day. It was easier to believe in ghosts and malevolent spirits in the dead of night, much harder to summon any extra superstition during the noon. The turquoise waves reminded Bastian of the ring he had given to his new wife, and he nearly smiled despite Tilda's obvious distress.
"The goats, Captain," Tilda said as calmly as she could. "We are going to have to pay someone in Port Flintstone to remove a hex. All the goats have fallen ill and their milk is not good for human consumption."
"That sounds strange," Bastian said, so thoroughly relieved that he once again had to force himself to sound more worried than he actually was. "I will have to check them out."
As people in this world did not quite understand illnesses the way he knew them to operate, miasmatic theories and superstitious beliefs were running wild. It was probably just a normal virus or a bacterial infection, nothing to be calling an exorcist about. But he had to see the goats, for he suspected another thing, something that would have ended up with him in a psych ward if he had talked about it to a modern doctor.
He did know that Roy Gorgo was doing something funny all the time. With his grudge and everything. It was more than a bit sad to realize that the man was probably crying into his pillow every night as well, at least in a metaphorical sense. Having dreams about a wholesome brotherhood that they had broken and lost.
They descended into the space that was reserved for the livestock. The goats, being much luckier than regular ship animals, had plenty of room to wander around since there were only a few humans aboard. Lucky bastards still had the nerve to fall victim to an illness. Oh, well, they would soon recruit more women, since they could not ride the reputation of cannibals forever if none of them could hold a sword. Then the animals aboard the Maiden's Mercy would have to get used to a normal routine again, confined to a very small space.
He examined the dark space and paid some attention to the two goats that seemed noticeably sickly. Although he was by no means a vet, even with his current knowledge he could tell that these animals would not live for too long. Their breath smelled like a rotting grave, their eyes were covered in a green substance that made Bastian think about really unfortunate things, like a witch sneezing into the poor goats' eyes, and they could hardly stand on their own poor legs.
"Aye, these guys do not look too good," Bastian sighed. "Are the others going to look the same? What do you think, Tilda?"
She just shook her head sorrowfully.
"In a few days they won't walk, either," she replied, and added one more thing, dutifully. "Captain."
"Guess we'll just have to cut their throats to end their misery," Bastian said, feeling very low about having to euthanize the animals. "It'll do no one any good to keep them suffering like this and we know that they will not voluntarily walk overboard."
There was a catch about this whole ordeal, though. Suddenly the sad eyes of the woman Bastian had honestly considered making the boatswain turned a bit sharp, like she was actively looking for something. Her gaze lingered over his body, and then Captain Bastian Black realized what he had accidentally done.
Ladies loved a man who was kind to animals, yet firm in his decisions. He didn't know which ancient instinct he had specifically appealed to, but he was certainly pressing the right buttons without even trying to cause any reactions in her.
So, a mix of warm kindness and firm toughness, got it. It was a more precise assessment of the capabilities needed for a harem captain than a lesser man would have managed to formulate, and it was even better since Bastian knew for a fact that he was both a softie and a badass. Immediately making his body more presentable for Tilda's pleasure, he gave her a sad, resolved smile. Oh, they were going to be crazy about him.
This, too, met its mark as the future boatswain got all flustered and tried to avoid meeting his eye.
"Go, and fetch Melinda," Bastian said. From this cloud of flattery and pleasure, he heard his own voice speak from afar. "She has the best butcher knives. She has all the knives we can hope for. Meanwhile, I will check the rest of the livestock."
He went to see how the hens were doing. They seemed to be just fine. A bit annoyed by his presence, some of them abandoned their tasks when it came to fruitlessly pecking the hay-covered boards, but some of them were so consumed with the hatching process that they neither moved nor let out a single sound.
"Come on," Bastian said, knowing that he was unlikely to be able to get through the hen's thick skull. "I want to see what you are doing here. We were supposed to eat those eggs. Should have checked all of you before setting sail…seems like we have a rooster aboard the ship as well. Move. Please."
He shoved the bird aside, revealing a white egg with the same occult symbol on it that Captain Gorgo had used to mark him as the ultimate outcast.