Choice

Alfred's POV

While Master dealt with whatever he found on that paper, I looked around at the weapons strung around the room.

Now that I had the weapons I earned at the colosseum, most if not all of the items here were useless to me. Still, simply looking around was more interesting to do when compared to the alternative.

One impressive feature was the level of upkeep these weapons seemed to have. Surely, with the way they are so loosely slung around the place, it must be quite annoying to do. I can't really find out anyways, as Ottoman was busy with master.

"Ottoman, were there any defining features of the messenger they used? Think ethnicity and accent. I need to know where this organization could come from, or at least where I can find their messenger."

"...It should be… Wolfish, yeah," Ottoman responded quite unconvincingly. "His accent was hard to put a marker on, but… he worded his sentence like those Illianorean snobsss… if that helps."

You know how they word their sentences?

"I see," Master said while folding up the piece of paper he received. "How would you contact them if you succeeded?"

"...They said that they would… 'know'... if I did. I don't know how, but it could be a spy… not that I know of any~"

Someone's after Master, eh? I'm sure that isn't entirely unprecedented. Still, the fact that neither Ottoman, the one who was commissioned to do it, nor Master himself know who is unnerving. Because of this, we can't even set a trap by lying about Master being captured.

"In that case, Ottoman, do you have some spare wood on this vessel? We're going to continue on our original ship, and we'll need repairs."

Ottoman put two fingers in his mouth and discharged a shaky yet ear-piercing whistle.

In a hurry, a stocky man opened the door and stood rigidly at attention. In the brief time the door was open, I saw a great number of pirates huddled around the outside of the captain's quarters, all attempting to listen in on the conversation, apparently.

"...You… get enough wood to repair the ship down there… quickly~" he muttered. Still, the man understood even though it was almost drowned out by the far away waves.

"Ottoman," Master said suddenly, "if they ever contact you again, find some way to contact me, not after getting more information than this. I won't be easily located for a while, but I'm sure that won't stop you, will it?"

He gave a short affirming grunt in response, which Master nodded at. "Let's go, Öthe they won't take but a few minutes to get the wood."

"Right."

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As predicted, the pirates came running up through a massive opening in the deck near the center. Still, with the enormous proportions of the ship, it wasn't out of place. What was out of place was seeing that same stocky man waddling out of said opening with a full sized, and completely intact mast to replace the broken one on our original ship simply hoisted over his shoulder.

"Did we ask for a mast?" I whispered.

"No, take it anyways. Could be useful."

Following him were a few dozen other pirates carrying neat stacks of wood planks, all in all more than enough to fix our original ship's damage and even build a few lifeboats with the excess.

"Alright, you all can go back to your stations. Öthe, you take the mast, I'll take the rest."

"Mnn," is all I said in response. Despite how calm this response was, I was still wrapping my head around what he just said.

Master walked up to the 7 stacks of wood, all of which could easily weigh 15 metric tons, and stacked them up one by one on top of each other. Eventually, when that was done, Master squatted down, and hoisted it up with one hand.

Shaking my head at the ridiculous feat of strength, I turned to the mast, and picked it up. Honestly, it wasn't that heavy, about 5 tons by my calculations, but it was annoyingly cumbersome. Simultaneously, Master and I stepped up on the railing and looked down.

Focusing in on the still shaken crew and passengers of our ship, I saw their horrified faces. With the things we were holding, their reactions are logically correct.

However, normal logic does not apply to my master or me. So, we jumped.

Due to the extra weight, our falls accelerated incredibly quickly. Master landed before me, and I got to see his incredible control in full view, as he landed silently without even shaking the boat. My landing was not as pretty. Although I didn't make much noise, or break anything, the boat swayed enough to knock those standing off balance.

Master motioned over the captain of our ship, who quickly scrambled to us.

"I apologize for the damage that was caused, but it was inevitable. Regretfully, this is all we can reasonably do for you," Master said.

"N-no, no, don't worry. You saved our lives, t-this is more than I expected…" he said, trailing off at the end. "(mumbling) who could…"

"Well, we didn't ask for it, but will this mast be of any use to you?" I asked.

"I-I don't think it will. We have the capability to make a temporary repair to the present mast despite its damage, but we don't have the tools or the labor necessary to replace it at the mmoment."

"Oh, well… Master," I looked over, "should I just toss it? The pirates are already sailing off."

He looked behind him at the surprisingly quick ship sailing off, and chuckled, "That they are, and yes, toss it, it takes up too much space."

After receiving confirmation, I hopped over to the tail end of the ship, making sure not to kill anyone or destroy anything along the way. There, I planted my feet and sucked in air. My muscles tensed and I adjusted my hold on the mast 'till I was just a little behind its center of mass. Finally, I bent back like a bow and snapped my body.

"Psshaaah!~"

I released all of the air in my lungs and launched the mast like a javelin. The force I generated pushed the boat forward a lot, but the occupants definitely didn't seem to have the energy any longer to feel surprised, judging by the bags under their eyes.

"..ahahahah… I must not be seeing right, that lass, she just-?"

"...right you are, she threw the mast like a javelin.

"Ahhh… I'm too old for this."

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I walked into the room we were staying in and looked around, finding Morrissey curled up in the corner. He tensed at the door creaking, but stayed neigh-unmoving still.

I looked over at Master, but he passed me before I could say anything. He sat down before Morrissey, making sure to intentionally make sound so he knew he was there.

"Morrissey," he said, "It's safe now. Can you face me?"

"...Mnn…"

Morrissey slowly shifted around and assumed a reserved position. His eyes were a little shifty, but obviously relieved to see semi-familiar faces. He locked eyes with me, making me a little uncomfortable simply standing around, so I sat down next to Master.

"...Wh-what h-happened?" he asked meekly.

Master cracked a slight smile, "Nothing big, just a few pirates. They were a rowdy bunch, but we sorted it out without too much… trouble."

Although he tried to hide it, a small hint of disbelief showed on Morrissey's face, but both I and Master ignored it.

"We won't be delayed too long despite their interruption. Anyways, here:" Master pulled out a cup of water and some light food. "Don't eat too fast, you might-"

In an instant, Morrissey snatched the food and water away from master and began devouring everything. He had a few coughing fits at the beginning, which Master acknowledged as reasons why he should take his time, but it didn't change much. Within two minutes, he was already done.

"Hahah~ it's good you have some energy! Still, Morrissey, there is something I, no, we need from you."

"Y-yes s-sir…"

"I need you to tell us about yourself. Everything you can think of, and as detailed as you can."

"...B-but I don't remember much…"

Cysandoth hung his head, sighing, "It's not an issue, Morrissey. Here, I'll prompt you, and you tell me what you know. If you don't know, just say you don't know. Understood?"

Morrissey nodded in affirmation.

"Okay, to start, what is your mother's name?"

"I-I don't know…"

"And do you know your father's name? Or what he looks like?"

"I.. I d-don't."

"How old are you?"

"I-I think I'm eleven…"

That old? He looks six at the most!

"O-oh… " Master looked over to me, obviously thinking the same thing I did. "Well… do you have any Martial Arts training?"

"...Martial Arts? I-I don't think so…"

Again, we looked at each other, surprised. How is it possible? He should be in a better state of mind, and should be able to remember most of what he's experienced, particularly martial arts. If he's never practiced them, does that mean-

"Have you ever refined before?"

"...W-what's 'refined'?"

""...""

Master muttered under his breath "there are so many scum on this planet," while scrunching his brow. "How many martial talents have been wasted already?"

I whispered to Master "Are you sure he's telling the truth? This all means that he's managed to develop his own rudimentary stealth martial arts alone without the assistance of refinement or knowledge of martial arts."

Would I have been able to do that?

"He is," Master responded in a hushed tone, to which I raised an eyebrow. "I spiked his drink with a truth serum. I made a few drops using plants from the greenery back in the colosseum."

"W-what?!?!" I said a little too loudly, startling Morrissey. I toned down and returned to whispering, "How does it work? Is it detectable? How would one know they are afflicted with a truth serum? How is it made?"

"Woah woah, calm down Öthe. I'll explain it later if you're so interested, although I'll say you really don't have to worry much about it. It's extremely impractical and difficult to make. I mean, why not just torture for information?"

I winced at the word "torture", but nodded.

"Truth serum is, however, the most humane way to extract information, and can also correct any mistakes in one's memory subconsciously, even if the individual didn't even know they were mistakes in the first place. Thus, he really has no idea who his parents are, and he really has never refined nor received martial arts training."

"Understood.

"...Well, now that we know this, wouldn't it be a mistake not to bring him into Junanbi? Like you said, there is no rule that we can't."

"My thoughts exactly. Although I was skeptical before, knowing his talent, it would be a disgrace to the martial arts world as a whole."

The two of us nodded, confirming our decision. Master turned to him.

"Morrissey, we have a proposition. Would you like to hear it?"

He nodded quickly.

"Would you be interested in becoming our disciple-"

"Our-" I blurted out, however, Master clamped my mouth shut before I could get the whole word out.

"We have come to the conclusion, from what you have shown to us, that you possess a great talent for martial arts, similar to what I saw in Öthe when I brought her in as my disciple."

He let go of my mouth.

"Now, this is only a proposition. Martial arts, especially under me, are incredibly hard to learn, and will put you under a lot of stress and pain. Your life before now has been hard, I know, and I understand if you just want a normal life. We can also give that to you, which happens to be the other option."

He paused so Morrissey could take in the information. His expression was one of complete disbelief.

"Provided you choose the second option, we will take you with us until we can find you a reputable and stable orphanage. There, you'll be able to live as a normal child."

I know what I would have chosen. A normal life doesn't suit me, and… I don't think it ever would. I'm simply damaged goods, plain and simple.

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Morrissey really took his time thinking, enough time for me to refine a considerable amount. Finally, his answer came.

"I-I think I want to stay with… you two…." he said meekly. He looked up at the two of us, "I'm t-tired of being weak. Every time they hit me… or mother… I couldn't DO anything."

He clenched his fists till his knuckles went white.

"This f-feeling… control, freedom, however little I have, I want…

"I w-want m-more…"

He squeezed out that last part. Hmmm, has he never asked for something before? Shit…

I stood up and pinched my nose. Fuck, it's not an issue when I go through something shitty, but this little kid didn't do anything wrong! He's obviously not stupid, nor is he horribly ugly, nor is he (apparently) untalented. Pure luck, or lack thereof, led to him leading a completely fucked up life.

What is wrong with this world?

"Öthe? Is something wrong?"

I shook my head. "No, nothing."

He wore a concerned look on his face, and only turned back to Morrissey after I looked away.

"I'm glad you made that choice, Morrissey. I believe it is the correct one."