It was nearing midnight when the ogrish war galley came within sight of Kraken’s Rock. The town could be easily seen by everything on the galley, even the parts of the city not lit by oil lamps. The goblins within saw an easy prize, something on which to sate their bloodlust. The ogres saw a source of slaves, food, and loot. The humans each saw something different, but they were all uniformly eager to get off the galley. Despite their eagerness, they approached cautiously, with the sail furled and goblin lookouts calling out where the reefs and rocks were. The oarsmen pulled almost gently.

  “There it is. Maybe I should go by myself to get what we need,” Bermin said.

  “I think I’ll be going ashore for a little sport,” the Flayed Man said.

  Bermin knew what kind of sport he meant. At least he thought he did. His old friend was more and more unpredictable these days, and he couldn’t help but cringe a little bit. “All right. But we have to keep the goblins away from the town. No one will even open a door for us with them running wild.”

  “You’re right, of course,” the Flayed Man said. His armor looked almost black in the pale moonlight. He turned to the ogre standing close by. “[All ogres and goblins stay on ship. No pillaging.]”

  The ogre had a nearly overwhelming urge to attack the tiny human who dared to command him. “[Want slaves! Want blood! Weak humans good food!]” it shouted back.

  “[Remember purpose!]” the Flayed Man shouted right back at him. He directed a magical burst of fear at the ogre as he gave his demand.

  That cowed the ogre into submission. “[Bah! Rid of you soon,]” it said.

  A little time went by as the galley approached. Raynold came out on deck for some air accompanied by four undead knights. He leaned against his bone staff as he gazed into the distance.

  “Is that Kraken’s Rock?” he asked Bermin.

  “Yep,” Bermin replied. “You’re not thinking about bringing your, uh, friends ashore, are you?”

  “Of course,” Raynold said. “It’s a haven of pirates. Only fear will keep them from simply taking what they want.”

  “You have a point there, Raynold, old buddy, but I think your knights inspire a little too much fear.”

  “I’m going ashore anyway,” Raynold said firmly.

  “Bermin’s right. You’re staying on the ship,” the Flayed Man said as he towered over Raynold.

  Raynold’s eyes flared with green light. “Your days of ordering me around are done.”

  “Are they?” the Flayed Man said as he faced Raynold. He shoved Raynold with one hand in his chest, pushing him back several steps with as much difficulty as it took to push a child.

  A fell, green lightning suddenly erupted from the staff and blasted into Kromwell’s cuirass, knocking him off his feet to land flat on his back ten feet away. Raynold said a fell incantation as Kromwell struggled to stand and held out his right hand, pointing at Kromwell’s heart, ripping the tiniest portion of his life force away from him.

  “Wait! Wait! I’m sure he didn’t mean it, Ray!” Bermin said, wanting to step between the two. His common sense rose up, however, and he didn’t step directly between them.

  Raynold hesitated, holding the wispy life essence in his open palm. He considered the situation for a few moments, heavy with implications, then he flicked the stolen life energy back into Kromwell, who sighed slightly as it was returned to him. Kromwell got to his feet and turned away, stalking into the cabin in silence. The leader of the ogres, who had been beaten into submission before the journey by the Flayed Man, suddenly stopped thinking of Raynold as food.

  “Thanks for not killing him, Ray,” Bermin said. “You know how he can be sometimes.”

  “I do,” Raynold said. “And he now understands that things have changed.”

  As someone who was bullied by Kromwell for years on end, Bermin could surely sympathize. He wished he could do magic and keep people from bullying him as well, but he knew that wasn’t his lot in life. Only the dreamweed offered him relief now. Feeling the need, he began filling his pipe.

  “Do you think you can wait for me to get a suite of rooms for you before coming ashore?” Bermin asked.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “I think that may be wise,” Raynold said.

  The present crisis averted, Bermin turned at the rail to stare at Kraken’s Rock as the war galley slowly approached. The goblins and ogres could see very well where the reefs and rocks were, so the galley entered the cove without a mishap. The piers all looked to be occupied as they neared. Though the ogrish captain knew he was not to enter the city, he couldn’t be counted on to not destroy something. He turned the galley towards a pier near the western side of the docks where a fisherman’s boat was tethered. It was a small boat compared to the other vessels, and the ogre grinned fiercely as he used the rudder to aim the ram right for it. Predictably, the fisherman’s vessel was smashed to pieces by the ram on the front of the war galley, as was several feet of the boardwalk.

  There were shouts of alarm from the keep about ogres, but no one mounted an assault on the vessel when the goblins tied the galley to the pier then got back on board the ship. The sailors all scratched their heads, but despite having their weapons in their hands, none of them wanted to be the first to assault the ogrish warship. First, none of the humans had ever seen an ogrish warship, and they didn’t even know that such a thing had existed. The fact that the goblins weren’t spilling out in a killing frenzy was simply astounding. But then, self interest was first and foremost in the mind of a pirate, so the pirate captains had no trouble at all convincing their crews to stay aboard their vessels. For a few tense minutes, the crews of all the ships waited with weapons in hand for the other crews to make a move. No one did.

  “All right. I’ll be back shortly after securing a couple of suites,” Bermin said after waiting what he felt was an appropriate amount to time for hostilities to start. “Please try to keep everyone on board and out of sight.”

  Raynold just nodded. He would be glad when he could get off this stinking ship and back to things that mattered.

  -----

  The scream that ripped from the woman’s throat carried a long way through the still night air. The Flayed Man held the beating heart as blood drained from it, spilling on the woman’s quivering chest. Swirling, chaotic energy formed in the air above the dying woman, which by force of will and a few demonic words of command were dragged into the Flayed Man’s body. He felt its rush of energy, the power, the thrill of the murder, and the approval he gained from the ancient ones. He took a moment to exult in it as her blood ran down his forearm.

  With the death of the prostitute, the Flayed Man was once again alone in his suite above the Golden Showers Gaming Hall. The dull, reddish light granted by the candles surrounding the corpse barely illuminated the room, but the Flayed Man could see quite well in the dark. He wished he was back in Fellton living in luxury, and he lamented the fact that he had to make do with this hovel. The suite was among the finest available in Kraken’s Rock, but it was a far cry from the opulence of his hidden manor in Fellton. Finished with his ritual and bereft of the servants he was accustomed to, he simply tossed the heart out the open window. He wiped the blood from his ebon bladed dagger onto the dead woman’s wadded up dress, then tossed that out the window, too. He finished by throwing the corpse out the window carelessly, letting it fall into the nearly deserted street below.

  A few minutes later, the sound of voices in the hallway reached the Flayed Man’s ears as he was pouring a glass of the swill they called wine for himself. Hearing voices, he walked to the door and opened it to find Bermin outside arguing with one of the innkeeper’s men. There were two more ruffians standing behind him, trying hard to look threatening.

  “…over her service life!” the pimp said.

  The pimp looked over at the Flayed Man, who was bare chested at the moment. The scars all over his body were reddish in color and had a pattern like the mortar in a brick wall. His eyes still had a slight reddish glow to them, which should be warning enough, but the Flayed Man caused a slight aura of fear to emanate from his body. The man snapped his mouth shut.

  “Is there a problem here?” the Flayed Man asked innocently. A predatory smile appeared.

  “We were just discussing terms of compensation for the whore’s master,” Bermin said.

  “Ah. I’d be more than happy to discuss the matter with your master myself,” the Flayed Man said as he casually drew the black bladed dagger and trimmed one of his fingernails. “Her earlier performance was… boring and uninspired. I did you a favor.”

  “On second thought, a hundred pieces of gold will do just fine, good sir,” the pimp said to Bermin.

  “Very well, then,” Bermin said. He took one of the three pouches from his belt and handed it to the ruffians.

  They didn’t bother to count the money within but retreated quickly down the hallway and disappeared into the stairway down. The Flayed Man allowed the aura of fear to dissipate.

  “Handy to have a fear power like that,” Bermin said, wiping the sweat from his hands on his pants.

  “Indeed. Want some wine?” Kromwell asked casually, pretending not to notice the discomfort he caused.

  “I was about to get some sleep now that the festivities are done for the evening, but thanks,” Bermin said. He hesitated for a moment. “Do you think you can put a lid on the sacrifices for a while, please? It’s getting expensive and we have a long way to go yet.”

  “I can stop for a time,” Kromwell said unconvincingly.

  “Thanks. We should be done here in two more days,” Bermin said.

  “That long? Maybe I should buy someone cheaper if everyone is so concerned about their money,” the Flayed Man said.

  “You could probably get someone cheap at the auctions,” Bermin said helpfully. “Besides, you know what’ll happen if we don’t do ‘you know what’ for ‘you know who.’”

  “I’ll see how I feel in two days,” the Flayed Man said, his brow lowering dangerously.

  “Yeah. Good night,” Bermin said.

  Bermin knew how likely it was that his old friend would wait, and he went back to his room to enjoy some of the finer things this place had to offer by himself. His life had taken a very unpleasant turn somewhere, and he needed something to take his mind off of it. He felt a little sick to his stomach, so he only downed one goblet of wine before going to bed. Unfortunately, the “comforts” of this place could never distract a person for long before everything came crashing back in.

  But he still tried.