99 A Captain Ashore*
After three weeks of carting crates of various shapes and sizes and with various contents, Rassa had to admit that he agreed with Aegin, it was getting old. But it was safe, so the mindless work continued with unvoiced protests.
They were carting furs from the ship that had arrived two hours earlier. They were nice furs too, wolf from the smell. Though the colours were lighter shades than what one would find in Eldovia. Mainly sandy yellows and browns, some even white or red. Much more vibrant than the dark colours of the wolves on this continent. They seemed to be of a pretty high quality, so despite Rassa's admiration of the colours, he didn't touch them beyond needing to cart the large sacks they were stored in to the cargo carriage that would take it to the warehouse. Ebony seemed to be appreciating the furs too, though not in the same way Rassa was. Her eyes seemed to dance with the possibilities of what they could become later on. Whether clothing or blankets or rugs. Whatever the case, Rassa was almost positive she'd never get the chance to work with such material. At least, not for a long while.
As Aegin dumped another sack of furs into the cart alongside Rassa's, a call rang out along the dock.
It was a break time for all the dock workers. Only short enough for them to each something and rest momentarily before getting back to work, but the short break certainly helped with productivity. This was usually because the Dock Managers used this time to survey the work that had been done and still needed to be done, which helped them to prioritise work loads. It was interesting to watch, mostly because Rassa had never witnessed anything like it before. The Token Docks in particular were efficient in this. Everyone had a job, and no one job was less important than any other. Like spokes in a wheel, they were integral to the final product, and watching it turn only increased Rassa's interest in it.
Just as Rassa was sitting down with Aegin and Eb, he noticed a new figure appear on the dock, an oddity to the orderly mayhem. His vision sharpened as he ascertained the new individual's identity.
It was Ewan.
Of course Rassa hadn't killed the man the night before, after all, he'd only just taken enough to satiate his hunger. But even then, that small amount should have made the man feel at least a little unwell from the loss.
Ewan paused on the edge of the docks, looking around, his gaze going everyone present as if looking for someone. Rassa subconsciously turned away, afraid to be recognised after the night before despite the fact that his new ability had helped him to erase the memory, or at the very least make Ewan think it was all a dream. The ability, or The Allure as Victor had once called it, was essentially manipulation of mental abilities. Whether it be involving momentary orders, or memories. It was useful for helping him to remain in the shadows, but Rassa had to establish eye contact for it to work properly. He was sure it had worked on Ewan, but even then, a part of him didn't quite trust it. A part of him knew that even if the memory was gone in one's mind, the body and the soul could remember given the right cues and circumstances.
Better not to push his luck.
After a moment, Ewan's eyes landed on Dock Master Hargreeve, and he approached with a determined gait. As he stepped into the light, Rassa could better see the pale tinge to his skin. He was unwell, but it seemed as if something had drawn him out anyway. Rassa's eyes narrowed in thought, what could it have been? His hearing tuned in to the conversation.
Maybe this was one of the reasons Rassa had decided to remain in Port Lovolon for so long. Not only did the city give him plenty of opportunity to practice his many abilities, it was also remarkably easy to find something of interest to relieve any boredom. Or, more often, to relieve him of any remnants of the nightmares that plagued him.
"He's here, isn't he?" asked Ewan as he approached Hargreeve.
Hargreeve seemed to recognise Ewan as he paused in conversation with a couple of his subordinates. He was silent for a moment as he look at Ewan, then he gave a dismissive wave to his subordinates and turned to face Ewan, "I don't see why its of any interest to you, Ewan".
"You know why it's of interest to me," Ewan growled, gritting his teeth.
"You no longer have any affiliation with the Token Trading Company, nor with the crew of the Miranda. You lost that chance some time ago," Hargreeve argued.
"I didn't lose the chance, it was taken from me," Ewan replied, "I'm here to get back what I'm owed, now where'd the old man go?"
"That's old Captain, to you," Hargreeve replied, "Using the man's title might gain you some form of respect, if you have any left that's worth anything".
"I don't care what he calls himself these days, I want to see him, to speak with him, where is he?" asked Ewan.
Hargreeve looked at his notepad and jotted down a quick note before he turned away, "Jeremiah Token is none of your concern, as I've stated before. If you insist on causing a scene, I will have you removed from the dock, do I make myself clear?"
Ewan growled, stepping forward threateningly, "Where is he?"
A new presence on the docks, one that was quite imposing. Rassa's predator instincts were immediately drawn to it like it was a challenge. What Rassa found was indeed the figure of an older man.
His skin was deeply tanned and his hair a bleached blonde, no doubt from his time spent on the sea if he was indeed a Captain, and Rassa could think of no other title the man would be worthy of. He was quite broad-shouldered, tall and muscular despite his age. His he was free of hair but he had a blonde beard and moustache combination. The beard braided neatly. A hat kept the sun from his eyes, and his long coat and boats only added to his commanding aura.
This man was a leader, through and through. Someone that commanded respect from those around him. Rassa, with his predatory instincts sizing the man up, could see no reason to refute. No command over the Mist, nor any connection to it, and yet, Rassa couldn't help but find some kind of respect for the man.
He watched from an inconspicuous section of the docks as the man crossed the main road to the edge of the sea wall where Hargreeve and Ewan spoke.