The Colors of Fortune

Struck Bargains

Pirates were frequently on Technoblade's mind ever since his conversation with the first mate, but he tried not to show it. Fear and discouragement were weaknesses not to be seen by others, especially for someone like himself, who lived by strength and by the sword. But he did keep alert for any sightings of strange ships so he could hurry below if he needed to. His possessions were kept constantly in his pack and every weapon was ready to be used at a moment's notice. If danger did arrive, Technoblade planned on being prepared for it.

Life on the ship passed smoothly enough for the next few days, though being a somewhat paranoid passenger made each day longer than he wanted it to be and every evening he retired to his space in the cargo deck tired out. The crew were friendly enough, but neither he nor they went further than exchanging greetings or comments on the basic functions of the ship; Technoblade had no intentions of making friends anytime soon. Most of his days he spent alone either on deck but out of the way or in his space, writing in his journal and trying not to think about just how much he was at the mercy of this captain and crew. Now that he was on the sea, Technoblade understood all too well he had no idea how to tell where he was or where he was going. No landmarks or even directional evidence existed that he could recognize and it made him nervous.

Eventually, there came a night when he could not sleep. The rocking and creaking of the ship was easier to handle now that he'd gotten a little more used to it, but still his mind would not settle at all. In the end, Technoblade sat up and pressed his hands to his face. "Curse this waitin'." He muttered. "I wish I was well out of it." Getting up, he paced back and forth, clasping his hands behind his head. "Come pirates or king's men, I can handle those. But this sittin' and waitin', without knowin' where I'm goin'...no. No, the Captain's makin' for his port, just faster than usual. Probably wants to earn those coins of mine the sooner."

He was turning for another round when a pale blue light on the stairs beside him caught his attention. Intrigued, Technoblade peered up the steps. There was no source he could see, but the light did seem to grow stronger out above deck. "Well, it's somethin', at least." Technoblade muttered aloud and he advanced up the stairs.

Very few sailors were about: the steersman at the wheel, a lookout far, far above in the crow's nest and two others standing near the back of the ship, watching the sea. However, though he automatically noted the men and their positions, Technoblade's attention was mainly centered on the source of the blue light, which he could now see. And it looked like a person, standing about five feet above the deck, in the air, some ways to the ship's right.

"What in the deep soundings of hell is that?" Technoblade said to himself. "And how come nobody seems to notice?" He glanced quickly at the men, but all of them were casually going about their business, not giving a fig for the spirit-like being, whose back was to them all. Neither did they seem to care what he did, so Technoblade moved forward.

Once he got to the railing, he stopped and peered closer, still trying to make out what he could. The person seemed to be a boy or young man of sorts, with ragged clothes that hung loose and swayed in the wind. His head was covered by a limp cap, from under which wisps of dark-colored hair stuck out. He wasn't moving.

Technoblade looked around again, but nothing else seemed out of place. The water smacked the sides of the ship, the wind was blowing steadily; he wasn't sure what to make of this apparition. He decided he should probably speak to the spirit, if only to find out if he would respond or not. "Hello?"

The instant the word left his mouth, the figure swung round. It was a boy, nearly grown but pale as a corpse, with eyes that were utterly flooded with blue. He stood straight, expression blank as he gazed at Technoblade. Then he pointed, backwards, as though signalling an appointed direction.