The dining hall felt like a prison. Shadows collected in corners and across tables. Candles were deliberately kept in a waning half-life, struggling to exist on the end of a fluttering wick. The table was stained with a twisted design of splotches and stains. The smell of blood hung in the air like a languid warning, caressing the captain's nostrils, irritating his taste buds. His plate sat untouched beneath angled elbows and clasped hands. In the gloom he could only barely see his host, a massive nebulous shadow at the other end of the long table. It was feasting, and the sound of bones crunching, marrow sucked, and hot blood spattering the wood almost made him cringe. But he had captained the Dawn Sun for twenty years and Captain Nevyrs did not flinch so easily. Still, he could not help but feel bile rise in the back of his throat. It was worse, not seeing. His mind imagined what it might look like, what the nocturne was doing to the animal he'd been provided for his dinner.
When he started, it had been alive.
"Allow me to repeat what you've told me," The shadow said around a mouthful of something juicy, "You may correct my understanding if ever it errs."
"Of course, Lord Merchant." He answered. He'd repeated himself three times now, but the nocturne refused to understand.
"The port of Hosia is closed to all incoming and outgoing ships,"
"Save the Hosian Navy," Nevyrs corrected, tapping his index fingers together, "Military patrols will remain in place to deter smugglers."
"Of course, of course," the nocturne agreed, spitting bone and gristle onto the table, "And this military closure will remain indefinitely till…"
"The safety of Viridos can be assured."
"Yes, of course. Safety of the realm. Jolly good." He slavered on something, it sounded like a ribcage. Nevyrs could hear the slithering of Zovalias' tongue slipping between the bones, hungrily lapping up the blood remaining there. "However, Lord Captain-"
"Just Captain will do."
"Suit yourself. Captain. As I was extrapolating, I have a shipment of fine Virdosi paints and fabrics bound for the market of Avarath. You will understand, of course, my livelihood rests upon the trading of such wares. We cannot all make our coin in dead pirates, after all."
"The Council has authorized a stipend to be supplied for merchants who may suffer during this isolation. You and those you employ will be compensated till trade can resume."
Zovalias made a sound, something between a roar and a belch. Honestly it was impossible to tell. A fleck of something hot dashed Nevyrs' cheek. He wiped it away with the napkin that had been provided for his meal, dropping it on the plate and pushing it away. "Amenable," the merchant rumbled, "But can I expect the same price that would be paid to me if my goods went to market?"
"Unfortunately, that would be unrealistic. The Council is prepared to divert resources enough to provide necessities to those who may be hurt by the isolation. You are hardly the only merchant with concerns, Zovalias."
"Necessities." The nocturne sounded displeased, "Dictated by the Council, I presume?"
"Resources of Green Nation will be decided by those who represent it."
The mechant was indignant, "Who do you think represents the Green Nation on the docks of Avarath? It is I and my crews who-"
Nevyrs shook his head and then bowed it apologetically, "In the land of Viridos itself, the Council is recognized in all organizational matters relating to our resources. Please do not misunderstand the nature of our-" The nocturne spat something from his mouth. Something wet that landed just a few inches shy of the captain's visions…thank Ilium for that. "-meeting." He brushed imaginary flecks of blood from his uniform, clearing his throat before continuing, "This is not a negotiation, nor is it a pre-emptive prediction. The Council will be ruling on the specifics of the allocation fund after certain matters are taken care of. You are the most successful merchant shipping fabrics and dyes according to our records. We determined you and other merchants of your caliber should be approached in person to explain the specifics of the blockade."
"And what of my returning ships, Captain? Will you turn them away at the port? Do you expect to make pirates of them?"
"Hardly." Nevyrs straightened himself on the chair, pushing down a flare of annoyance "All ships approaching the dock with registration papers belonging to Virdosi merchants or of ships dispatched on official business prior to the blockade will submit to a mandatory boarding and inspection by the Navy. Provided they pass, they will be allowed entry to port."
"At least there is some leniency to your draconian procedures."
"This is a matter for the safety of the realm."
"You insist on repetition, but I fail to see which part of the realm was in danger."
Nevyrs tried to stay his temper. "Lady Ironwood of the Cinnabar clad and one of our own Captains was attacked-"
"By Pirates! If the navy is so frightened of profiteers that they close their borders, perhaps I can offer-"
"And I apologize to sound crass, but did you not see the Aviary falling from the FUCKING sky?" Nevyrs stood swiftly, his chair shrieking out behind him, "I care not for your loss of profits, Zovalias! Fires ravage Hosia, bodies are STILL being dragged from the Prosperos. The Avians have lost a home! You WILL comply with these new mandates or you will be arrested and taken for judgment! Any ships of yours I find leaving port without authorization from the entire council I will PERSONALLY see to the bottom of the bay. Do I make myself clear?"
The moment of silence between them was broken when Zovalias stood. The nocturne moved swiftly, almost too fast for his lumbering size. Bounding around the table he leaped into the guttering light and loomed over Captain Nevyrs. Instinctively, he reached for his sabre, thankfully sheathed at his side. Zovalias was unlike any Nocturne the Captain had the misfortune of seeing. Unlike the more beautiful specimens of his kind like Kessel, Zovalias was a disgusting perversion of the Nocturne paradigm. Almost seven feet tall, Zovalias was strange bulging grey skin, hideously huge bat-like ears, and luminescent yellow eyes. They were always opened so wide, impossibly wide gleaming on the ruin of a face he had below. There was no nose, only two holes in the pallid flesh. Beneath that, a bloody abyss of layered, jagged fangs, constantly moving, twisting, slavering. It was a wonder the nocturne could speak so well with his mouth in such a state. Nevyrs imagined it must have taken decades of practice. The merchant's nails were black and long, serrated like knives, clicking against each other in some obscene rhythm. Although the garb he wore was fine silk and satin, it did nothing to hide what he really was…a monster. Nevyrs almost drew his blade, prepared to sink it to the hilt into the underside of the beast's jaw, but no attack came.
"Perfectly clear, Captain," Zovalias hissed amiably, "I apologize for antagonizing you."
Nevyrs couldn't read the nocturne. It was impossible. Something felt wrong about how he said it, about how he looked at the captain. Nevyrs was not frightened, but he was uneasy here in the creature's grotto. "Forgiven, Lord Merchant," He said finally, "Spread the word to your associates. We cannot afford personal meetings for everyone with a ship in Hosia."
"Certainly not," Zovalias nodded, "I will do just that. Please thank the council for their generosity."
Nevyrs nodded and departed up the stairs, never looking back to the loathsome nocturne. Perhaps it was for the best. He did not see the emaciated child aux step from behind the lumbering nocturne and look up.
"Hungry."
"Yes, yes. I know." Zovalias passed a loving hand through the immaterial aux before picking up the napkin the captain had used to clean blood from his face and devouring it. "Patience wins the tastiest meals."
He returned to his chair, sitting and sweeping a massive arm across the wood, knocking the remains of the monkey he'd devoured to the ground. "Decisions, decisions…" he mused, writing in the blood, "Which of my friends do I tell first?"