.3
Cretus
Atryn awoke to yells and the scrap and ruckus of a scuffle. A young man had succumbed to the seasickness and tried to leap over the side of the ship, his high pitched screaming disturbed Atryn's slumber. Grappling with him, the young man’s friends tore at his rags as he clung to the edge babbling incoherently at the top of his lungs while they all barked for him to let go the edge. Fully awake and angry at the disturbance, Atryn leapt from his seat and pulled the suicidal man's saviors from his legs, flinging them to the bilge.
"Let em drown, we've no need of cowards." Atryn stared down at the
young men, checking their eyes. The suicidal man clung to the edge sobbing now,
lowly. Turning Atryn grabbed him by his collar and the seat of his pants.
"Well jump boy if you're gonna, and get on with it." Shoving the man
up, he tried to push him over the edge. Kicking and driving off the side, the
suicidal man fought back. Atryn let go and the man fell from the side of
the boat and landed on the bilge with an empty thud. "You wanna live or not boy? Make your mind. Do it
quick and quiet, a conqueror needs sleep." Atryn sauntered over to his
bench, and plopped down with a clank folding his arms across his chest.
Chuckles could be heard amongst some of the older
men. The young men slowly rocked back and forth with the ship, susceptible to
the waves, hovering where Atryn napped. They stared at him wide eyed, while the
suicidal man lay on the ground fixed on Atryn as well. Settling back into their
general positions, the boat became quiet again. Atryn's fiery beard fluffed
over his armor and stopped just above his belly, like some hariy beast in a
suit of steel. One of the young men finally spoke.
"Would you've really pushed em?" He sat across from Atryn who's one opened eye appeared like a blue marble caught
between wrinkled flaps of freckled pink flesh.
"Sure, he was makin' an awful racket wasn't he?" More chuckles from
the older men. He closed his eye again. The young man was unmoved.
"This not your first voyage then?"
Quivering vocal cords chimed. Without opening his eyes, Atryn responded.
"Nope."
"Where'd you fight?" More of the first voyagers gathered around them,
eager to hear the tales.
"What's your name lad?" Atryn still napping.
"Parcleus." Chin slightly raised. Atryn's eyes opened fully.
Searching he saw Parcleus for the first time. The proper response eluded him. He spoke low and true.
"I liked your father." Surprise sprang
across Parcleus' face. A few of the other younger lads looked at him.
"So did I." Parcleus looked down at his boots.
"I saw him fall at Cretus." Atryn coughed out.
"You were at Cretus?" Lurching forward the passengers reoriented
themselves as the ship hit a wave. Atryn barely moved his neck, which was
thick beneath his armor.
"Aye." A mariner's silence echoed over the waves. The older men were
quiet now, hunched on their benches, pretended not to listen.
"Why..." Parcleus lost the nerve. The First Voyagers
looked at Atryn for the answer. He knew what he wanted to know, what they all
wanted to know. Solemnly he recalled with a red pain in his blue eyes.
"They wouldn't stop fighting." The suicidal man began swiping at
hovering flies above a bag of bread in the corner of the ship. Parcleus’ eyes
never wavered from Atryn. One of the other older men yelled at the suicidal
man.
“Hoy!
Knock it off. We won’t get no meat
til them flies lay their eggs!” Standing he towered six feet six, his armor was
twice the size of other men. His brown locks dangled across his shoulder
plates, his short beard recently cut. The suicidal man cowered against the iron
wall of the ship as the giant grabbed the bag of bread and shoved the edges
down towards the bilge, loafs tumbling out all over. “Wanna kill yourself now?
Try the maggoty bread in a day or two.” A roaring laugh escaped his chest as
the suicidal man gagged at the thought.
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