“Excellent,” the lich declared in satisfaction. “There is a room three doors down on the left that you may take as your own. It has an ante-chamber for your Jaeger. My apologies for the decor, Lady Heterodyne. Clank hounds, while making an excellent crew and guard, are the not the best of housekeepers. I will be here when you have finalized your plans.” Ludd sniffed through his rotted nose cavity. “Not that I can physically be much of anywhere else at the moment.”

Jötz kept his expression bland even as his own mind raced. There had been no missing the look of confusion upon Ivy’s face when she had turned to the Jaeger, however much she might have tried to mask it when addressing the pirate captain. He followed her out, snatching up the firearm on the way and holstering it neatly with a barely concealed look of dislike at Ludd. There was no point in further hostilities. That did not mean he had to like the current situation or their adversary any better. Enemies acting nice usually meant more trouble later on down the line.

Escorting Ivy to their assigned quarters, he made sure the door was firmly shut and locked behind him before continuing. The suite had been luxurious once. A large canopied bed was tucked against the one side, it sheets moth-eaten and dusty, but dry. The other side contained an elegant writing desk with matching bookcase besides it, and then a doorway what looked like some sort of bathing chamber. Like much of the rest of the barge’s rooms, the wooden floor was somewhat warped from generations of moisture, and the golden flocked wallpaper was peeling in long strips. The smell of mildew was strong.

“Not bad,” Jötz annoucned blandly as he looked about judiciously. “Hy’s been in worse. A few pillows, a few t’row rugs, maybes ve gets an iron maiden fur da corner? Be right at home!”

“Zo. Vhat ist next? Chou gonna build a death ray, melt his bones like so much puddink?” Without looking at Ivy, Jötz set his pack and several other bits of gear onto the bed. Despite the age, the mattress did not sag with the weight of it all, and Jötz trusted to take his weight as he sat and started to reload his pistol with the few rounds left. “Chou did some gut bluffink back der, chou know dat? Only vhat vas dat bit at da end? Chou looked like someone valked over chou grave!”

Looking up then, his monster’s eyes took in the sight of a small picture frame upon the desk. Frowning, he gestured to it. “Und how come he’s got a painting oft chou over der? S’not a gut likeness. Chou ist prettier dan dat! Not as pretty ast me, but vhat chou gonna do?”