“Sure enough,” he said, nodding excitedly. “Our Lord serves as Governor of Deepingdale as long as they deem fit, then when they wish to step down, a festival is called. There are tests and trials anyone interested must go through. The winner becomes the new Lord of Deepingdale.”
Without looking, Dexter knew Rosh’s eyes were wide. He found it a bit odd himself, but then shrugged. The people of Deepingdale were clearly a different sort.
“Some merriment would do us well,” Dexter said, thinking of how he could use a bit of a chance to relax himself. “But that’s for later. We’ve work to be done now.”
“Of course!” The Constable said. “By all means, do as you must. Send for me should you have any troubles, I’m sure there will be plenty of people about pretending to not be interested.”
Dexter chuckled and nodded, then turned and headed back up the plank to the Voidhawk. He saw most of the crew gathered and waiting on the deck. Only Keshira remained at her post. With a sigh, he called her over then turned to address them all.
“I reckon you heard the man, we’re to set up our goods over there. Not our way normally, but gold is gold. As for the festival, we’ll be drawing lots to see who gets left behind.”
“Captain, he said it was safe here,” Bailynn said, surprising Dexter.
He turned to look at her and smiled. “That’s what I’d tell someone whose ship I planned on stealing.”
She nodded and kept her mouth shut, but he could see the troubled look in her eyes. He suspected she was worried she would be forced to stay behind on the boat.
Their wares sold quickly. The coins they received for them were dated, but their weight was true and Dexter made no trouble with accepting them. They now mingled with the townsfolk at the festival. Bekka remained behind at the ship; she had drew the short straw but had shown no concern about it.
The Festival of Lords consisted of some unusual but excellent food for the crew of the Voidhawk. The drink, also unusual, was equally palatable. Entertainment was fleeting, they found, but the reason behind it was soon apparent. The games were to be the entertainment. Games that the crew was invited to participate in.
The games were taxing, and segued from one to another with more and more people eliminated each step of the way. Some of them focused on thinking and logic, while others were geared toward the more physical aspects that made Rosh and Dexter more comfortable. It was not until near the end of the contests that Rosh and Dexter found themselves both eliminated. Jenna and Logan were the sole representatives from the Voidhawk still in the running. At the end of the final challenge Jenna remained and all the others had been eliminated.
Rosh and Dexter exchanged a surprised look while she stood bathed in light that came from a circle of flameless torches surrounding her. Every source of light they had seen thus far had been magical. Even the food was cooked without fire upon magical plates not so different from the heatstone Jodyne used.
Jenna shrugged and looked embarrassed as she stared back at them. Willa giggled, her small frame easily affected by the alcohol of the festival. Not only that, but aside from a stolen sip here and there, it was the only alcohol she had ever had.
Willa snickered again when the cheering stopped. She silenced herself quickly when she noticed that she was receiving some strange looks. The townsfolk had not only stopped cheering, but they had fallen to one knee. Constable Lorren hurried up to her side and offered her a beautiful golden pendant with a softly glowing ruby set in the middle of it.
“Captain,” Keshira said from where she sat. The pleasure golem reacted when spoken to, but had otherwise done little more than to glance around disinterestedly. This was her first signs of showing initiative.
“Yes?” He turned, surprised at her near outburst.
“The pendant Jenna is putting on is filled with powerful magic,” she stated calmly.
Dexter glanced up at Jenna, concerned. His reactions and thinking were somewhat dulled by the alcohol, however, so it took a moment before he spoke again. “What sort of magic?”
“I do not know, I only possess the ability to know that it is magical.”
Dexter nodded and frowned. He blinked and watched, not certain he was seeing things properly. Almost before his eyes he saw the elven woman’s gaze drift over him. He flinched in what he saw revealed in it. There had been a long moment where she gazed upon him dully, as though unfamiliar with who he was. Her smile had slackened as well.
A roar broke his attention. He turned and saw a grizzled old man with an eye patch slam his fist onto the table. “Jasper Highsail, you whore-son!”
His gaze was directed at Rosh, who could only stare back in shock at the man.
Dexter surged to his feet, coming to the aid of his Arms Master. “Friend, you’ve got the wrong man,” he said, one hand slipping to his pistol.
The old man continued to stare down Rosh. “The Hell I do! He struck a deal with me and then turned me loose when the deal went sour so he could get away!”
“Thing is,” he said, leaning in closer and glaring with his one eye at Rosh, “I ‘spect you had that planned all along!”
“I got away though, lost half me crew and near as much of me ship! We ended up finding this place and decided to settle in — safer and more prosperous than dealing with pirates like you!”
“I should gut you like a fish,” he continued, giving no one a chance to interrupt. “And maybe I will if the new Lady will let me — but first I got to know why you ain’t aged a day in a score of years?”
“I ain’t Jasper Highsail,” Rosh said. He stared back at the man and stood up, dwarfing the one eyed man. “Name’s Rosh, and I ain’t never met you before.”
“Captain of the Shark’s Teeth?” Dexter asked, surprised to hear the name. He had not heard of the infamous pirate captain in many years, but now he was putting it together and remembered the stories.
“Rosh is my Arms Master, I’m the Captain of the Voidhawk. I’ll vouch for him that he’s never had ship nor crew in his charge, and he’s aged a day for every day I’ve known him,” Dexter said. “Have some more of your fine brew, friend, and let’s put this behind us,” he added.
Rosh glared at him a minute longer, then walked away, heading away from the Festival and towards the ship. Dexter watched him go, open mouthed, before returning his attention to the table. The old man walked away a moment later as well, heading to the table he had come from.
“What was that?” Willa asked softly from nearby. The sudden excitement had sobered her up — if only briefly.
Dexter shook his head. “If you find out, let me know.”
Dexter searched for Jenna but she had disappeared. He cast about for her, but found her nowhere to be seen. Sighing, he slumped back to his seat and took another drink that now lacked the sweet taste of relaxation. “Stay as long as you like; I’m off for the ‘Hawk.”
Keshira rose and followed him obediently. The others remained, looking uncertainly towards one another, but then deciding to settle in and see what else remained of the night.
Dexter, mildly drunk, turned once he had left the festival behind him and found Keshira less than a dozen feet behind him. “Why are you following me?”
“Captain, I exist to serve you,” she said.
Dexter growled and waved a shaky finger at her. “I don’t deserve no serving. Nobody does!”
Keshira looked at him. She said nothing, but stood there patiently.
“What now?” Dexter cried, seeing her complacency.
“I am failing you, Captain, I do not understand.”
Dexter threw his hands up in the air and rolled his eyes. “What? What are you not understanding?”
“You said nobody deserves to be served,” she said. “But you clearly serve the members of your crew.”
“That’s not serving,” the mildly drunk captain said. “They be my responsibility. Swearing service to me means I owe them my support too.”