Chapter 4: the captain, The Captain, and their Disagreeable Disagreement
“Captain!” She shouts, practically into his ear.
The bandaged man in officer attire turns to Colette while he presses his glasses to his face. “Ahh, my dear Miss Ketiere, what news of your watch?”
“It’s…” she looks about the crowd, noticing a few pointed gazes aimed at her “Can we talk somewhere privately?”
“Now is an inopportune time for privacy, my dear doughnut. I’ve agreed to spearhead the assault into the keep. Now what have you learned?” He says, stepping up to the front doors with Boris. “Dear Boris, if you please.”
“PLEASE OF WHAT?” the hulking seasort asks, his long, lance-like whiskers twitching in confusion.
“That door called your mother a bottom feeder,” The Captain says, nodding his head over to the Kalamest front set of doors.
A splurge of saltwater and sausage spit out from Boris’ crustacean jaws. “IS DOOR HAVING OF THE DEATH WISH?”
“And he also said your shell’s the color ‘coral’ rather than simply ‘red’,” The Captain adds.
“BORIS IS HUMBLE MAKING OF YOU!” the seasort expels, flying at the doors with more speed the speed of a bullet. Cheering erupts from the crowd and Colette’s jaw drops at the sight of Boris dividing the iron-reinforced doors into a trashed heap of splinters and scrap-metal in a matter of seconds. “YOU ARE NOW OF THE HUMBLE!” Boris shouts, pounding his huge claws into the heap. For a few seconds until he turns around. “CAPTAIN! I AM OF THE RED, YES?”
The Captain nods. “You certainly are, Boris. You are the reddest lobster I’ve ever seen.”
“THIS IS OF THE PLEASING TO ME!” Boris shouts as he ranks back next to The Captain.
There is a massive, anticipating silence among the crowd as they see that, not only is the door no longer blocking them, there is no force field made by Kalamest magic that would block their entry. For the first time, they can step inside the mansion. The Captain turns to the group, and calmly gestures into the house, as if to suggest entry. Suddenly a wave of frantic enthusiasm overturns the armed crowd and they rush into the estate, searching for their loved ones. Colette escorts The Captain and Boris into the manor as she speaks again. “Captain- there’s something incredibly important I have to tell you! Like, something that’ll make you rethink this!” She says, her hands waving in wild enunciation.
The Captain stops in the crowd of Pro-Ganastere rioters, and shrugs. “So be it. Off to the restroom!”
The three make themselves comfortable in the fourth- floor restroom, two floors ahead of the raiding party who, along with searching for the lost ones, are also looting just about everything of value.
“Alright, Captain. Gran isn’t here, and neither are any of the others!”
“Oh? Is this what you’ve found?”
“Yeah, I met one of the Kalamests, Itrim. He told me that their gauntlet was stolen.”
Boris gasps in shock, sounding more like a wheezing, drowning pig than anything else. “CAPTAIN! THIS IS OF THE MEANING THAT THE FOOD I WAS OF SMELLING-”
“I am not asking for your input at this time, Boris,” The Captain, adjusting his tattered coat of the Lascardian Navy, says.
“BUT CAPTAIN! I WAS OF THE SMELLING OF OTHER FOOD!”
Colette squints at Boris. “Boris, I’m not talking about food here. I’m talki-… Wait, food? Don’t you use that word for people too?”
Boris nods. “YES! LITTLE FOOD. YOU ARE OF THE RIGHT!”
Colette grins and turns to The Captain. “See! He’s obviously smelli-.”
The Captain cracks his knuckles, and Colette’s Pavlovian terror kicks in. “Miss Ketiere- I do not desire input on this matter either. I simply wish to know what you have found out, not what you advise.”
She presses her hand into her face as she grinds her teeth. “But if you’d just listen, Captain! I-”
“Miss Ketiere, am I going to have to take away your sailor card and put you back through basi-”
Colette cringes. “Oh gods! No! Sorry! Damn! Okay! Itrim told me that it was the Ganasteres that had done the kidnappings!”
“Thank you, anything else?”
“Yeah, he thought the Ganasteres had both the gauntlets- there’s two by the way, and they’re holding back with the gauntlet’s power to make it seem like the Kalamests are misusing theirs! It’s such an obvious trick, Captain! Of course a Ganastere would be the first one kidnapped! Who would be so dumb to believe that the Kalamests would go straight for their enemy! It’s so, so obvious!”
“Is that all, Colette?”
“Well, I told him and his group that I’d make you see things their way. They’ll be attacking the Ganastere Estate tomorrow at noon to blow it all open.”
The Captain sharpens his posture diligently. “Excellent. Good thinking. So we will lie in wait for them and ambush at the opportune time.”
Colette’s blank for a moment as a raider busts into the restroom, and asks for Boris’ help moving a gold-plated shower curtain rail. “Wh-what? What do you mean?” Colette asks.
“As I said, my dear muffin: we will wait for the Kalamests and administer justice to them!”
“No, I think you’re missing that it was the Ganasteres that did it!”
“Oh my,” The Captain leans in, his shining glasses glinting an aura of authority. “Could it be you intend on disobeying my orders?”
“Uh, hell yes I do! You’re helping criminals, even when you know it’s the truth!”
“We’ve helped criminals before so long as they pay us.”
She draws back in confusion. “C-Captain, are the Ganasteres paying us?”
The Captain shakes his head. “No.”
“Then why don’t we help the good guys!”
“Because the Kalamests are not the good guys.”
“Wh-What?!” Colette shakes her head about dumbfoundedly.
“My plan is the most efficient solution to this island’s problem, and you must follow along, or I’ll revoke your sailor’s card.”
“Captain! You’re going to hurt innocent people! You know the truth!”
The Captain’s silent a moment. “You want the truth, Miss Ketiere?”
“Of course!”
“Would you believe me if I told you?”
“Duh!”
“I already know Miss Vereyrty is inside the Ganastere estate. She’s safe and sound in the kitchen basement.”
“Then why don’t we do something?!”
The Captain smiles. “We will, but I suppose your mind is made up?”
She searches his face for some answer to his impenetrable idiocy. “Yeah. Tomorrow I’m going to do what’s right, and if you’re on the other side of my sights, I sure as hell hope I’m not you.” Colette turns around and starts for the steps leading out of the manner.
He taps his boot, and it causes her to look back once more. He smiles, and says, “I won’t stop you, little croissant. Go on and show me just how far you’re willing to go out on a limb for someone else. But before you go, I have a question for when we meet tomorrow: Should I fight you like one captain to another, or just an impudent sailor?”
She stops at the steps. “Croissant? It’s captain croissant to you.” Colette then storms off into the dark of the night.
The Captain watches her disappear as a chandelier-toting Boris comes across him. “IS THE YOUNG FOOD OF THE UNHAPPY?”
“She certainly is, Boris. The indignacy of her youth is too strong to do her any good. I’ll have to stamp this one out personally… Boris.”
“AYE?”
He straightens his glasses. “That thing we talked about on the way here…”
“OH, YES, CAPTAIN! IT IS OF MUCH GOODNESS!”
The Captain looks out to the dark, and enters a more casual composure as some of the raiders exchange ideas as to where the kidnappees could be hidden. “Excellent.”