I thought that putting a hard line of 5 days of undersea travel to get us away from any pursuit before having a celebration would make sure none of the orcs still had their blood up from our victory, and we could have a ship event that wouldn’t spiral out of control.

Judging by the glee Gnar had sharing the news and the sudden anticipation amongst the boarding team, I was wrong.

I’d already learned that it was best to let Gnar handle the orcish customs, including regularly getting sloshed. Regular dispensation of an alcoholic ration wasn’t new to me as a sailor. It was new to me as a Captain, as I’d previously avoided it to avoid the trouble and shenanigans that typically accompanied it. Gnar had kept his fighters mostly in line though, so I wouldn’t argue his methods.

So I was worried when, after our last victory, no one drank a drop. There was still a palpable lust for a roaring celebration, I’d just postponed it for five days.

Five days of anticipation for some knock-down, drag-out party worthy of an orcish festival.

Bloody stars, I was an idiot.

When I talked to Gnar and tried to move the celebration up by a day or two, he told me that would be seen as an insult or cowardice. I had no idea if that was true or he just wanted his great big party, but again I had to trust him.

Gnar ran the boarding team through an increasingly frenetic level of drills as the days passed. I thought he was going to work them into exhaustion to avoid any trouble, but the effect was actually resulting in a frenzy. I tried getting Jorgagu to explain things to me but the enchanter just looked at his brethren, snorted, and told me to ride it out.

He had a surreptitious smile on his face when he did, convincing me that his non-involvement was some sort of retribution. Bloody orcs …

Travis, Gerald and I adopted a policy we called ‘staying way out of the way’ and tried to have business as normal. My companions liked the idea of unwinding a bit as well, but on a different scale from the others.

Drese had no plans to partake in any revelry, stoic as he was. Nor did he let the threat of orcish festivities bother him in the slightest. All of the orcish grunts had learned that not only was the madu a master life mage, he was also a capable martial artist. All had taken their turn challenging him and – with my blessing – he had thoroughly trounced each and every one of them, earning their respect in the same orcish fashion I had.

The day of the party would be different, but up until then we had the same ritual that I’d instituted as soon as we had more than a handful of crew: wardroom dinning. In principle it was an opportunity for the officers to discuss matters apart from the crew as well as bond together and be mentored and educated by the Captain. I made some adjustments to my own; Gerald was present as a personal friend, regardless of his position as both cook and quartermaster. Drese was present as an advisor, and because his position demanded it. Jorgagu was there as my enchanter. Gnar was there somewhat against his wishes as he saw it as a responsibility and an honor to be eating with his men. No matter how much I decided to trust him, though, I didn’t want him being so separate from me, so individually united with his fighters. Humans and orcs might have different perceptions of authority and command, but I didn’t budge on my position and challenged Gnar to see it as an opportunity to foster the growth of his own sergeants by giving them room to grow.

The result was the five of us usually cramming into my own small quarters while the crew had the run of the deck. The cutter wasn’t large enough to host a wardroom/dining facility specifically for the purpose, and even on most of the naval ships we’d conquered I’d noticed that the wardroom had served dual purposes with some other function.

“Hey, that’s where I sit!”

“Gnar, you lost your spot sitting on the edge of my bed after I had to air out the smell of your farts before I could sleep. Now you have the stool by the door.”

“That was my spot,” Jorgagu grumbled.

“You can sit next to him and hold his hand if you’d like, just leave room for Gerald when he brings the food.”

There was less formality than aboard my father’s ship, true. We didn’t have the backstabbing, cutthroat feuding my father had let develop either, though. We were maintaining the distinction and ‘otherness’ that the naval manuals spent so much time harping on, fostering the perception of leadership among the crew for each member present here at this elite table …

“Gnar, really? Move your hairy backside so I can get in or no one gets to eat!”

If only they knew.

Gerald had put together a culinary masterpiece of sausages and dried vegetables in melted cheese, all looted from a sinking ship. Our policy of always taking the best foodstuffs had resulted in Gerald playing around with his recipes to the enjoyment of all. Perishable items and stuff that was normally rationed out as long-lasting goods were used however our cook pleased. If we ran out we had the basics provided magically by the ship, and while no one really enjoyed the soup Gerald could make out of hardtack they accepted the times it happened as the price they paid for such creations as he laid before us now.

“Gnar,” I asked as I licked melted cheese from my spoon. “Can you share your updates on yourself and the boarding team?”

He rumbled an affirmation and grinned at the others in my cabin. “I have advanced my war leader skill! No longer am I merely a squad leader; I am now a tribe leader!”

Gnar had let me know immediately, of course, but we hadn’t shared it with the others yet. I was excited because Gnar could now have more people directly under him, sharing his usual ‘squad knowledge’ while he was also able to appoint real sergeants under him who had their own bonuses. Gnar was raring to upgrade it even further; not because of the mass of people he could lead – that was superfluous on our ship – but because of the improved coordination and bonuses upgrades involved.

The others looked suitably impressed to me, but Gnar didn’t get the roaring fanfare he seemed to hope for. Jorgagu even leaned forward and gave him a frank assessment as though debating whether he’d really earned the place. He didn’t make a fuss about it, though, and Gnar returned to his meal, grumbling in orcish.

“Two of the remaining non-professionals earned the unique ‘marine’ warrior profession. They are straightforward types and I did not think they had a chance of getting other good options so I had them take it. I have the others walking them through the basics of the profession.”

“All the basics we know if it. Where does that put us in our ratio of professional to nonprofessional fighters?” I was proud of how Gnar was using the human tongue, his example had led to all of the orcs undertaking it, even if they weren’t fans.

“All but five have a combat profession. Those five are the ones we have waiting to see if they can unlock something else. They’re not liabilities with their skills, but I say we don’t leave them too long. Push them too long unto the unknown for a unique profession and you may lose the benefits of a practiced professional.”

I agreed with him but was willing to push the young orcs longer without a profession than he was. They’d all had the makings of the normal warrior profession from the time they signed on with me. Discovering this new ‘marine’ specialty profession with bonuses to naval combat had been an unlooked for blessing, but it made me curious what else they might be eligible for if they didn’t jump at the first good option. My restraint in picking a profession opened me up for the rare profession I now held, after all, and it was far more significant than a simple ‘sailor’ career progression.

“With those 5 in reserve, we have 14 with the marine profession and 7 with the simple ‘warrior’ profession.”

I nodded and pulled up the information on my ship’s interface. Now that Gnar had reported it, the information was accurate. Until it had been logged somehow by someone in charge, it wasn’t accurate. That made it many officer’s job to routinely write the updates down somewhere, as the Captain could then find the information in his interface. There were more skill perks and abilities that made it easier for me to have accurate updated information and harder for subordinates to hide things – most notably my leadership skill level – but I found that getting regular updates and referencing the ship interface was often better than the reverse.

“Drese?” I asked.

Knowing what I was going to request, he gave me an update. “Still only the one student who shows any true potential for learning life magic, Captain, but the 4 I am tutoring should be capable of basic healing spells for the medic roles you desire.”

“I tried altering the blessed weapons we captured,” Jorgagu said without prompting, seeing as we were on the thread of our martial might. “I failed. I never tried working with blessed weapons before, so I don’t know if it’s because of their nature or mine that I can’t do it.”

“Apart from corrupting the nature of blessed damage, I don’t think I would have felt comfortable carrying them into battle anyway. I’d hate for them to be turned against us again. If you say they’re worthless, dump all of them into the deep.”

He nodded and grabbed a heaping serving from the shared bowl in the middle of our table, ignoring the looks he gathered from Gnar and myself.

“So,” Gerald said steering us away from martial discussion to a charting one. “Any update on the ship carrying Hali?”

“Only that it’s slower than I expected, and we’ll catch up to it sooner.”

“Smell like a trap?” Gnar asked.

“Yes. But we’ll take our time scouting it out to identify what they have in store. They have the whole ocean in front of them, I can see the reason of being patient for a while longer to ensure a successful raid.”

Both orcs at the table rumbled in assent, while Drese nodded sagely. “Perhaps, Captain, you could appraise us of the ship’s options for growth in tandem with your own progress since the inception of our raids.”

With any others, I would feel suspicion and hesitation over sharing that information. With these – my lieutenants, friends and confidants – I nodded and looked over my own information before sharing it all, starting with my own growth.

Name

Domenic Seaborn

Age

Race

Human (Cursed)

Profession

Captain of the Deep

Level

XP

,186,905

Health

Mana

Stamina

Strength

Agility

Dexterity

Constitution

Endurance

Intelligence

Wisdom

Charisma

*

Luck

Skills

Seamanship 19

Swimming 17

Sea Legs 15

Rowing 8

Carpentry 3

Fishing 8

Singing 2

Cooking 2

Analyze 9

Observation 10

Climbing 11

First Aid 5

Lock Picking 4

Stealth 8

Leadership 9

Trade 1

Traps 10

Dirty fighting 4

Artillery 5

Unarmed combat 8

Swordsmanship 8

Small blades 10

Spears 9

Axes 7

Light armor 5

Archery 4

Magic

Air magic

Water magic

Life magic

Ocean magic

Mental magic

Achievements

Lifesaving VII

Trickster

Perks

Adaptable

Heart at Sea

Titles:

Slaver

Patricide