Marcellus watched Captain Crowe as they exited the imposing building that was not his lair but part of a broader network. He observed the man closely, noting the Captain's unreadable gaze that flicked across the crowds, the trading posts, and then—Marcellus followed the Captain's eyes—a secluded alleyway.
There, a woman was surrounded by a group of six or seven men. She was cornered, outnumbered, and from the looks of it, outmatched.
For a moment, time seemed to stretch.
The thrumming activity of Mythralis, so vibrant and chaotic, dulled to mere background noise as Marcellus looked at Crowe, awaiting his reaction.
"Ah, a slice of life in Mythralis," Captain Crowe remarked, a wry note colouring his voice, but making no move to intervene.
"As I said, unshackled by laws, unsanitized by morality."
The words churned inside Marcellus.
Was this a test? another hidden lever that Crowe might use against him.
Marcellus also noticed Tommy's bones noticed the woman.
Marcellus' secret strength could tip the balance of the situation easily, but it could also expose him to new vulnerabilities.
Yet, he couldn't peel his eyes away from the unfolding brutality.
What if it was my mother? or Cousin?
Something inside him—perhaps an instinct older than reason or a shard of morality not yet corroded—compelled him to act.
Before he could say something Tommy Bones spoke up.
"Captain, I believe I've forgotten something back at the ship. I'll catch up."
A flicker of something—curiosity? understanding?—crossed Marcellus's eyes, but he said nothing, only nodding.
"Very well. But don't be long, Bones. We have a timetable." Captain Crowe said.
Marcellus, Captain Crowe and others continued on their path, flanked by the four heavily armed guards provided by the tall, formidable woman.
They snaked their way through the city, navigating bustling markets and winding streets. Overhead, gulls cawed, their sharp eyes watching as the unlikely band approached a large, wooden jetty. There, moored to the side was a smaller vessel.
"Next stop, the Governor's Estate," Hawkins announced, stepping onto the boat, followed by Marcellus and their new escorts.
As the boat rocked gently across the waters, Marcellus felt the undeniable gravity of his life's current trajectory.
The boat was a microcosm of his wider world—steered by unknown hands, but more disturbingly, guided by a compass that pointed to murky, nebulous aims.
Finally, they arrived at what could only be described as an opulent, sprawling estate that stretched across the island like a decadent sprawl of hedonistic splendour and cruel control.
Tall, wrought-iron gates emblazoned with intricate golden designs suggested wealth and the kind of security only money could buy.
Marcellus noted the presence of slaves, their eyes averted, their bodies wilting under the weight of physical and emotional burdens.
Unsurprisingly, they weren't led to the main entrance. The boat docked at a quieter port at the back of the estate, where servants and slaves hustled and bustled, their labour the invisible engine of the opulence displayed elsewhere.
After disembarking, they were led through an expansive garden toward an area that resembled a knight's training ground—complete with sand pits, wooden dummies adorned in worn-out armour, and racks filled with various weapons.
A sense of martial discipline pervaded the atmosphere, contrasting sharply with the excesses of the estate proper.
"Here we wait," Crowe declared as they unloaded the mysterious cargo from the boat. "You've done well so far, lads. But the night's still young."
Marcellus looked around, the setting sun casting long shadows across the training ground, making it a land of contrasts. In many ways, he realized, it was a mirror to his own life—a life of blurred boundaries, paradoxical loyalties, and ever-shifting sands.
...
Tommy Bones wasted no more time. He darted towards the alley, each step an assertion against the tethers that Crowe and this dark city tried to fasten onto him. As he closed the distance, he could hear the woman's pained cries, and see the malice in the eyes of her assailants.
His approach was quiet but deliberate. When he was but a few feet away, one of the men turned, a sneer forming on his face. "And what's this? Another stray cur?"
Before the man could react, Tommy bones moved with a speed and precision that betrayed his hidden capabilities. A series of calculated blows left two of the attackers incapacitated before they could even understand what had occurred.
His swift action caused the others to falter, their smirks replaced by masks of disbelief and dawning apprehension. Seizing the momentary lapse, the woman took her chance. Using a concealed hairpin, she lashed out at the nearest man, creating an opening to break free from the encirclement.
"Run," Tommy Bones urged her. And she did, sprinting toward the opposite end of the alley without a second glance.
The remaining men, now recovering from their shock, looked at Tommy bones, anger flooding their faces. But before they could advance, a shadow loomed at the entrance of the alley.
Deckhand finn.
"I suggest you find another outlet for your... frustrations," Finn's voice cut through the tension like a knife.
Reluctantly, the men scattered, leaving Tommy bones alone with the Finn.
"Timely intervention, Finn," Tommy said, his voice tinged with a mixture of disappointment and questions yet unasked.
It almost sounded like he wanted to fight.
"Consider it a professional interest in maintaining our reputation," Crowe retorted, his eyes probing. "You're more useful to us unhurt."
Tommy Bones did not spend another second talking, as squatted and began searching the three men on the floor for money, one of them was bleeding out dead.
Tommy Bones pocketed a few coins he found on one of the fallen men. The one who had been bleeding out had already met his end.
Deckhand Finn stood over him, watching every move, calculating the worth of the man before him.
"What do you want? Finn," Tommy said, breaking the silence.
Finn shrugged, "You already know what I want?"
It was an odd moment, a break in the traditional hierarchy.
Tommy Bones stood up, adjusting his coat. "I appreciate the 'help'," he said dryly, a subtle edge in his voice that made even the stoic Finn raise an eyebrow.
For a few seconds, the two men stared at each other, each taking the measure of the other's soul. Then, without another word, Tommy Bones turned and began to walk away.