James E. Carter & Arkadios Andreaou
Co-write between @InfamousGuy101 & @Dyelli Beybi
Carter’s mind continued to race, the liquor's warmth sharpening edges he might otherwise have ignored. Too easy to picture Volodar whispering poison into Arkadios’s ear, bending a fair man’s judgment toward the sort of highborn arrogance the elf wore like a second skin. Carter could still hear that first sneer, an "uncultured Mainer", clear as the day it was spat.
He knew better than to leap to conclusions but gold had a way of turning people into their worst and Zoe’s talk of ministers and royals, Itzi’s doubts, Mitunbaal’s own insight, it all wrapped in his head until the thought of leaving his cut in other men’s hands felt like a fool’s gamble. His share was owed, he felt it was at least, he’d done more than enough to earn it, same as the rest.
Still… Arkadios had shown himself steady, a cool headed leader amidst this disparate crew. It was best to speak plain with him before suspicion soured into something worse. Better that than jumping the gun, quite literally.
As fate had it, the two men rounded the corner just then, returning from wherever they’d slipped away. Carter straightened from the wall, smoothing his features into a casual half-grin that didn’t quite hide the qualms behind his eyes.
“Was beginning to think you two’d fallen clean off the side,” he said, tone easy with a bite of humor.
His gaze settled squarely on Arkadios, “Would’ve left us in a real sorry state without your hand at the tiller.”
Arkadios gave a slight shrug, his expression inscrutable, "I'm sure you would have managed to find your way to one of the cities in Mitteland. We are over the border now."
Carter pushed off the wall and gestured back towards the dining hall.
“Captain, if you’ve the time, I’d welcome you for a drink. Good to share a glass with the man steering us straight.”
Arkadios paused, then inclined his head politely, "I can have a drink, though I will keep to the one. I would like to have a clear head for once we are landed."
“Fair enough, Captain. I understand wanting a clear head, god knows I’ve spent enough nights with the opposite.”
Once at the bar Carter got a hold of a pair of clean shot glasses and unstoppered a squat bottle he’d tucked aside earlier.
“Nordisles stock,” he explained as he poured, the golden liquid catching the lamplight. “Half mead, half Inburian wine. Smooth enough to go down easy.”
He slid one glass toward Arkadios and raised his own, and tipped it forward with a quiet clink, “To your health, Captain and to the Communalists’ defeat.”
He downed his shot, savoring the warmth in his chest before setting the glass aside. For a moment he simply leaned on the bar, then he spoke.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. I know you’re not a man to leave this continent or its fight anytime soon. But say one day the war is over, the Communalists gone to dust… what then? What’s a soldier like you plan to do when the guns finally quiet?”
"I'm a career soldier, Mister Carter," Arkadios remarked, "When this war ends I will retain my commission... provided we win... and I will return to barracks with the Regiment until such time as I decide to retire. I will try to ensure my unmarried sons and daughter find suitable matches and will live out my remaining days in my house in my village. I may even purchase an automobile."
Carter nodded along as Arkadios laid out his future in that steady, deliberate way of his. For all the liquor humming through his blood, he found himself almost admiring the man’s outlook. A clean vision, ordered, nothing more.
“Can’t fault that,” he said after a moment, “Sounds like you’ve got a damn sight clearer plan than I ever managed.”
“I was a soldier too. Commonwealth put me in uniform when the last war with the Confederacy boiled over. Got my share of medals for it too, but it didn’t take me long to realize I wasn’t cut for barracks life or marching drills. Figured I’d rather see the world than stay, so I signed on with traders instead...”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but his tone stayed friendly, conversational, “Still… hearing you talk about your family, your sons, your daughter… can’t help but wonder. When you talk of providing for them, making sure they’ve got something solid to inherit, I reckon part of that must be what’s stacked down in our hold right now, isn’t it? That gold.”
"They have the education and connections to make their way in the world," Arkadios replied with little apparent concern, "As for the gold - I will take no share of it. I am an Officer in His Imperial Majesty's Army. It is my duty to collect the gold and return it to His Imperial Majesty's Government. I am already paid for the privilege of serving. I have no right to expect additional recompense simply because some of His Majesty's gold reserve passed through my hands."
Carter gave another small nod, “Can’t say I don’t respect that, Captain. Duty’s duty....”
He rolled his glass between his fingers before setting it down, “For the rest of us however that share’s no small thing. I’ve got debts to square with the Company for the ship I lost, and more important, families of my crew who never made it out, they deserve more than a letter and a prayer. That gold means I can see them looked after proper, and maybe even put down roots of my own. Shipping line, small but mine. Something worth building instead of just drifting.”
He leaned back a little, “You said yourself you’re paid for your service. Well, as a private man who was burnt from this war it only stands to reason that me and the rest get ours. We hauled that haul through hell. The vast bulk’s going back to the royals and ministers either way, and I’d wager it won’t be spent half as wisely as folk like you could manage.”
"You have personal debts for a lost airship?" Arkadios raised an eyebrow and chuckled, "Might I suggest filing for bankruptcy before you get paid."
Carter let out a dry laugh, "If only it were that simple, Captain. The ship itself
was insured, the Company’ll write it off and slap the papers across some clerk’s desk but the fittings I put into her... reinforced gaslines, the extra lift valves, half the bloody engine work... those weren’t in the ledger. Came out of my own pocket to keep her skyworthy. The Company won’t cover a copper of it.”
He reached for the bottle, pouring himself another splash though he didn’t lift it just yet, “And you know how higher ups work, they’ll need someone to point the finger at when the insurers start asking why a full cargo’s gone up in smoke and the passengers are unaccounted for. Who better than the captain who signed off on the assignment?”
For a moment his eyes dropped, lifting up his brow with a sunker glare, “So yeah... My life’s in ruins unless I make it right. My crew’s families too, Evig’s not gonna look after widows and orphans... Not a chance. They’ll be lucky if they even get word of how their sons and brothers died. That gold… that’s the only way I can see them made whole.”
He finally took the drink, setting the glass down with a quiet clink, “That’s why I’ll fight tooth and nail for my share. Because if I don’t, there’s nothing left but ruin.”
"I would simply not pay," Arkadios replied, his expression deadpan, "Though I suppose you did sink some of your own funds into the ship which I would recommend against doing to any assett that doesn't belong to you."
Carter gave a short laugh, “Hindsight makes a fine damsel, doesn’t it? I should’ve left her the way she was but truth is, Captain, those modifications kept us flying when the work was lean and the competition was cutthroat. Extra lift meant we could haul heavier cargo than the next man, reinforced gaslines meant we could take routes through rougher skies without springing leaks every other week. Those jobs paid better, and those jobs kept my crew fed.”
He paused for a moment, “Maybe I was a fool for sinking money into a hull that wasn’t mine, but I’ll tell you what, it worked. Until the war rolled over Inbur and chewed us all up in the gears.”
Arkadios paused, looking confused, "Do you not get paid a salary? Are you saying you get paid on commission?"
Carter shook his head, “The Company kept us on a salary of sorts. Enough to keep the pantry stocked and the coal bins filled but nothing to set a man ahead. Regular pay’s fine for a man who never leaves the docks, but when you’re out in the wind and storm, risking the whole damn hull every trip, it don’t stretch far.”
“Where the real coin came in was commission work. Special hauls like fragile goods, high value cargo, or routes no one else wanted to fly. That’s where the modifications paid for themselves. We could carry more, get there faster, take jobs others wouldn’t touch. Inbur was one of those jobs as a matter of fact.”
"Are you saying your salary needed to cover routing vessel maintenance?" Arkadios looked astouded by this proposition, "And you installed modifications to do off-the-books work?"
Carter let out a short breath through his nose, “Not what I said at all, Captain. The Company handled basic maintenance, our wages weren’t paying for new gas valves or fresh canvas.”
He paused for a moment as he looked at the nordisles bottle, “What I did pay for were the extras. Reinforced lines, stronger lift cells, rigging modifications. Things that weren’t standard issue but made her fly better, safer, and most importantly, worth more to the clients. That’s how we got the commission work because we could haul more, go further, take the jobs others couldn’t. Nothing under the table about it. Just making my ship more capable than the next one in line. Some of us hoped we could eventually pay it off from the Company and go independent... Fantasy now.”
For half a heartbeat, he smirked to himself,
off-the-books work, hell, if they only knew… but gave Arkadios a steady look, “Point is, it was an investment. It was paying off until the war chewed it all to pieces.”
"Be that as it may though, I'm glad to be of service to the Inburian cause even if briefly," He raised his glass to Arkadios, hoping for a clink.
"Thank God we all made it out of that city alive," Arkadios raised his glass in response
Carter's clinked with Arkadio's in that moment. The conversation had eased the edge off some of his doubts, the Captain was a good man, straight-backed and collected, the kind that meant what he said about duty and country. But Carter had lived long enough to know that good men didn’t always get the final say and still felt that once the gold reached the hands of admirals, ministers, and royals, honor had a way of turning into ledger entries and excuses.
He turned the glass in his fingers, watching the shallow remnant of amber light twist across the surface.
Good man, that Arkadios, he thought.
Shame the world don’t pay much mind to good men when there’s gold involved. Still the tension in his shoulders eased, he’d keep his eyes open, play his hand smart, and make sure he and the rest got what was due.
