Before entering the captain's cabin, Allen glanced over his shoulder at the main mast. He caught a glimpse of Nyell nimbly climbing the cordage, seemingly competing with Miell and Layla on who would reach the crow's nest first. The trio was fast-moving, and some sailors stopped in their tracks to observe them. Their steady but swift movements were somewhat entrancing, and Nyell's laughter echoed as he bypassed Miell, leaving the beastman stunned behind him. Not long after, he pulled himself up the crow's nest and bent over to make a victory sign and rub salt into the wound.
'So childish,' Allen chuckled to himself, letting out a tiny laugh that startled the captain, who then followed his gaze and raised his eyebrows in surprise.
How could Miell, a veteran sailor and a feline beastman, lose the race to climb up the cordage to an untrained young man? He could have understood if it was Layla, as her prowess was well-known, but she was last, lagging behind Miell by a few inches. It was a strange sight that stirred up numerous questions in the captain's mind. Could it be… Was there truly a hint of truth to the hearsay he had overheard in the harbor? For many years now, he had heard citizens whisper about a devil who was adept at traveling through the jungle trees while simultaneously battling fearsome beasts and keeping in check their hunters, a devil often called 'Nyell'. The captain had a sudden epiphany, and a foreboding feeling stirred up his stomach. If this young man's name wasn't a coincidence, then his presence by Allen's side was not an accident, and that changed everything.
Not caring much about the captain's tumultuous thoughts, Allen stared at his destined mate a moment longer before turning on his heel and entering the cabin. 'Alright, let's get this done before Jawe shows up. We have about a dozen minutes left, I'd say. Although there's one other thing I have to take care of first.'
"Please, pardon the mess and take a seat," the captain politely invited Allen and Myrven, gesturing to a couch that was half-buried under documents and books. "I'd like to apologize for my right-hand man's disrespect. He usually isn't so, let's say, bold."
"How many times do I have to tell that I do not care how Miell acts? But if it reassures you, I was not offended," Allen smiled icily as he sat on the couch, his eyes curving ever-so-slightly. "My oh-so-lovely mate was obviously getting bored, and it pleases me that at least one among you noticed and proceeded to keep him entertained. I'd say that your right-hand man has a better EQ than anyone in your crew. Could it be because of his animal instinct?"
"I don't believe that's all. You've been showing a never-seen side of yours since our arrival here," Myrven added as he took place behind the couch, standing behind his chief as if to guard his back. "No one is dense enough not to notice how differently you treat him. It's clear as day that Nyell holds a special place in your heart. But it seems like some think he's your pet, and you have the leash, even though it's actually the other way around."
"Oh my, we'll need to rectify that impression. Nyell is headstrong and far too independent to depend on me. If people keep disregarding him and asking for my permission instead, I fear the repercussions I'll have to face in the bedroom. He can be quite petty, you know?"
That said, Allen raised his hand to show it to Myrven, as if they were alone and were discussing private matters. Nyell hadn't been kind earlier and almost crushed his knuckles. Deep crescent-moon-shaped cuts were digging into his skin, thanks to Nyell's sharp nails. Werewolves tended to keep their nails longer than regular humans, and they were sharper and sturdier, too. These nails were essentially claws and were perfect as makeshift weapons in an emergency. Nyell didn't think twice before stabbing them in Allen's flesh, and Allen didn't complain, leading to these deep cuts. The blood had long since dried up, but the shaman hadn't wiped it off. It was, of course, something the captain had noticed earlier. Now, he knew the story behind it.
After saying his piece, Allen focused his attention on the captain, who had lowered his head, sweat beading on his forehead. It was easy to tell what was going through his mind. He had made a mistake. All these years, it had been relatively easy to court favors with the Lord of White Moon land, but now he realized that Allen simply didn't care for flattery and let others do their things. As long as it was a win-win situation for him, he couldn't care less about their diplomatic tactics. If merchants showed the bare minimum respect toward his people, he was open to dialogue. For those who bared their teeth toward his land, he'd sink their ships without a second thought. The man was known for his ruthless behavior, and most people tiptoed around him, including the captain. He thought he had a relatively good grasp of the Lord's personality. Turns out he knew nothing.
"I hope this blunder will never happen again," Allen's smile disappeared for an instant. "It'd be sad if our trade relationship were to get strained over such a small matter, don't you think?"
"It's duly noted," the captain bowed.
Allen nodded in approbation. Although the captain hadn't been overly disrespectful, it was better to straighten everything out in the beginning before it became a problem. He had no intention of letting anything that displeased Nyell off the hook. If Allen wanted to make him feel at ease and accepted in the White Moon tribe, he had to make his position known to everyone. Yes, the man was his destined mate, and no, he was not planning to be a controlling partner. He was aware that werewolves tended to be possessive and overbearing toward their spouses, especially when they were dominant. It was no rarity to come across one who locked up their mate, too afraid to let the world see them. Their partners were theirs, and theirs alone. In Allen's mind, that was a societal problem they would have to address one day, regardless of what the elders said. However, if he wanted to bring up that issue in the future, he couldn't afford to be complaisant. From day one, he had to be an example and break free from the stereotype.
As long as people didn't learn about the condition Allen put forth to the Black Moon tribe's chief for his help… Everything should be alright. He should discuss it with Nyell later. His fated mate had a big mouth, and he wouldn't pass him to bring up the subject either to piss him or others off. He did reveal they were destined mates to the White Moon tribe's delegation just to shut them up, and only because they were rubbing him the wrong way. What would happen if some idiots managed to annoy Nyell beyond belief? Allen didn't want to imagine it.
"Now that that's been cleared up, let's talk about the bad-tempered sea," Allen clapped his hands, bringing the previous subject to a close. "From what I've heard, your recent trip led you to the capital of the eastern continent, then you went to the northern continent before sailing back to my little piece of land. Correct?"
"Yes…"
"How are the seas and the ocean behaving?"
"As you might expect, like a toddler throwing a tantrum," the captain shook his head. "The worst and most unforgivable region is still the Dark Sea, however."
"It really is the epicenter…" Allen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The White Moon tribe's territory bordered the Dark Sea, and they bore the brunt of most storms. Now, it was spreading, and he could already imagine what kind of rumors were floating around. "And what do people say?"
"Well," the captain licked his lips, averting his eyes. "It's not very flattering. The hearsay portrays the White Moon land as cursed and the Dark Sea as attempting to engulf it whole. According to rumors, the Sea Gods are angry at the White Moon tribe for allowing the jungle of sinners to remain standing and are trying to bypass the mountain range to wipe the evil permeating the land beyond. Meanwhile, the Lovers of the Moons are watching with anguish as the wrathful gods are tearing apart their homeland. According to some religious groups, it appears the God of the Sun has made an appeal to the lovers: if they help with destroying the land of the sinners, he'd allow them to reunite. Ah, but of course, not many believe this yet, and your goods are still prized. I don't plan on stopping trading with you."
"Of course you're not," Allen shrugged, aware that this little show of camaraderie wasn't due to loyalty. The captain was confident he'd manage to pull his tribe through this crisis, and staying in his good graces would give him an advantage on his competitors when everything was resolved later on. However, if their trade relationship ever became harmful to the captain, Allen knew he would sever it without hesitation, just like a lizard that cuts off its tail.
"Can I add something?" the captain fidgeted and waited until Allen nodded before quickly saying his piece, "It feels like the strange phenomena and recent rumors are strangely consistent and aimed at your land, and sometimes, you specifically. I may be out of line, but I believe you're being purposefully targeted, and I doubt the sudden storms are accidental. I have a hunch the 'Sea Gods' wrath' was artificially manufactured, although I have yet to figure out how and why."
"Why?" Allen's smile turned vicious, and the bright strikes of red twirling in his eyes darkened. It made the captain forget to breathe for an instant. "The reason is quite simple: some fools are too greedy for their own good and have forgotten how to fear the divine."
These words were said lightly but confidently. The captain's eyes widened as he did his best to maintain a calm demeanor. Allen already knew. He knew everything, but he allowed the schemers to proceed with their plot. That meant he had already planned out the ending of this story. With this new information in hand, the captain let out a wry, short laugh, his resolve sturdier than ever. Betting on the Lord of the White Moon land wasn't a wrong move. Those who fled and abandoned the tribe would come to regret it, and he could not wait to see these cowards' faces swallowed in remorse. In this treacherous world, merchants had to take a gamble to win at times, and it seemed his was already paying off.