Chapter Three

The Emerald Eye of the Serpent King

The story follows Captain Maverick and his crew worn and beaten from the ravenous sea storm. Their sails torn and mast nearly snapped in half, the sailors tattered and battered as the ship made their way into another turbulent storm. Not a storm made and formed from natural order but from the resentment of a creature. A vicious, monstrous creature that consumed all.

King Leviathan

The ship jolted and jumped as if a leaf in the wind. Maverick, a powerful man and captain, stood tall, even against the pelting torrent and seething thunder. His sword, blessed by that of a seal, made from that of the sea God, tight in his grasp, as the King of the Ocean, stood above his ocean waves, his roar thunderous and deafening. Maverick failed to kill a King of Demons of the Sea, for even the man had his own limitations.

But Maverick is no normal man, and limitations mean nothing to him.

His sword plunges into the eye of the serpent, the first wound the snake had ever received and the very last, leaving the Sea Demon King without one emerald eye, his long slithering body sinking into the ocean, vowing that Maverick would one day face his crimes and those who knew the pirate would turn on him and turn into creatures, like those in the sea.

The curse of the emerald eye.

Adam rambles on about the old story about Captain Maverick and the Sea Demon. Even though the pirate captain holds the title of Demon Slayer, he never fully slayed the Sea Demon King. I sat on the wooden crate, Adam sat across from me, our wooden bowls placed to the side from our breakfast. Lord Rhodon and Ventura remained in their bedrooms, either sleeping or filing endless paperwork. I half-listened, having already heard the tale from the energetic green-eyed boy, my gaze watching the crewmen move around the ships, washing the floors, fixing and rearranging crates and barrels, some eating their second breakfast, and overall busy.

"We leave later today,"

I speak aloud, and Adam looks up at me with a wobbly smile. His eyes are wide and filled with excitement. Knowing exactly what was gonna happen, I crossed my arms, letting out a sigh that was drowned out by Adam. Listening to the young knight spill out random facts of Astrolia and all the things he had planned. Something I had heard him talk about nearly 100 times before, with 100 new things he wanted to do added onto the never-ending list.

"And then we'll—Lord Rhodon. Good morning!" Adam stops his arm midair, using his hand, which was laid flat out as he used it to represent a glider, that was used to fly through the sky, an embarrassed smile crossing his lips. We both remain sitting and bow, watching the man sitting on a crate with a lazy grin, holding onto a bowl of chicken rice porridge.

"Such lively energy." It's clear that the man had just woken up, well dressed and clean, but stared with a half-lidded eye, Lord Rhodon and Lord Ventura were never morning people, meaning that under the heap of several blankets Lord Ventura was deep away in dreamland.

"Ah yes. I was telling 12 my--"

"Your itinerary for Astrolia? I know. Ya' havent shut up about it for months." Rhodon smiles, taking a bite of the porridge. Lord Rhodon and Adam have a clear father-son relationship, but it's not unexpected. Lord Rhodon treats all of his soldiers and knights as his own children.

, "...Yes, but I have added new things..." Adam speaks deliberately and Rhodon raises a brow in interest. I listen to Adam list his new plans, Rhodon sharing his thoughts every so often.

"Before I forget." Lord Rhodon glances at me with an apologetic grin, clearing his throat. "Ventura wants ya'. He had come down with a fever late in the night. He should be all right, seeing as I spent the bulk of my night caring for him. But he still specifically asked for ya'."

I nod and rise from my seat, bidding Rhodon and Adam goodbye and walking towards Ventura's bedroom.

Rhodon and Ventura have always been close, some say it was because during the war, Rhodon was cornered and Ventura came to his aid and saved the military captain, others say that when Ventura was just a boy, only 12, he fell in love with Rhodon, who was merely a soldier, and when Ventura turned 16, he and Rhodon became romantically involved.

Each theory was never confirmed and merely rumors.

My knuckles tapped against the wood of the door, hearing a muttered 'come in'. Opening the door slowly, my eyes moving across the room, finding Lord Ventura sitting back in his office chair, his eyes on the several papers, with a neutral face.

"What is it that you need, 12?"

He didn't even glance at me as I closed the door behind me and stiffly bowed. "You requested me, sir." The man drops his calm exterior, letting out a pained groan, leaning back in his chair, letting out a heavy breath. His face looks red and sweat decorates his skin.

"…Check my temperature. Quickly." He snaps out the last part and I'm quick to move, placing my hand on his sweaty forehead. It nearly burned my hand.

"...You're sick..."

He mutters out a string of curses, Rhodon had taken care of him but, my eyes shift around the room, finding only a bucket with a rag hanging off the side beside Lord Ventura's bed, Lord Rhodon was not the best when taking care of the sick. I look down at my Lord and his gaze is as ruthless as ever, even as he sits sick.

"...I have a question for you 12..."

"... Let's move you to your bed..."

I ignore him and help the man back to his bed, carefully laying him down and removing his clothing. Lord Ventura is good at pretending to be well and perfectly fine, able to make everyone think he's in tip top shape, till late in the night, he cries for a number to take care of him. "I do not like being overlooked." His voice is merely a stale breath as I wipe the sweat from his face and neck.

"…I apologize... What was your question?"

The words fall from his lips, and I freeze. He stares at me with genuine curiosity. The man was always known for becoming nicer when he came down with a fever, far too weak to fight back and be snappy. "How do you feel about me?" The six words leave me speechless and I find myself squeezing out the rag before placing it on his forehead.

The question doesn't take much thought and I answer honestly. "I don't like you, sir." Lord Ventura seems gratified and lets out a chuckle of sorts. I move from his bed and towards his dresser, pulling out specially prepared medication.

"If I was not weakened... I would slap you 12..." He comes off half-jokingly, in higher spirits than he was before. Finding the glass bottle, I open the medication bottle and dump three large white pills into my hand, and placed the glass bottle back.

"I don't know what response you wanted from me."

"No. No. Yours is reasonable." I moved to the side of his bed, putting the pills into an empty wooden cup and using a thick wooden to break the pills up before filling the cup up with water and stirring.

"I have another question."

"What is it?" I answer, not looking at him, watching the pills slowly dissolve. "Do you remember your name... before you became 12?" His question once again catches me off guard and I let out a soft sigh.

"I don't..." Before, the topic was sensitive and painful to talk about, but after having the name 12 for 13 years of my somewhat woeful life, the mention of my old name, whatever it was, no longer bothered me.

"I remember it..."

I stop stirring and my breath gets stuck in my throat. I turn and look at Lord Ventura with suspicious eyes. He expresses amusement and chuckles again.

"I do. Truly. I never forgot it. It was a pretty name. I will tell you one day..."

"Why?" Ventura raises a brow and looks at me. Unfound heartache fills the pit of my stomach and the man waves me off.

"I remember all the names of everyone I take in. For the day they grow independent from me." Ventura, on his own, sits up and motions for the cup with his medicine. I pass it to him and watch him down the drink quickly.

I watch him silently, bitter words rest on my tongue, and I swallow them. "...You are free to go 12." Lord Ventura lays down again, newfound peace on his face as he stared at me with drained delighted eyes. I glared in return.

"It is not often you get a moment like this. Say what you wish to say."

"...I hate you. I hate you for all you've done to me..." My words seem to mean nothing as Ventura laughs at me, a full-blooded laugh, one that made tears appear at the corner of your eyes and made you gasp for breath.

"I—Dear Lord—I cherish you 12; I ask that you never change." He laughs and begs for breath. I feel minuscule and, in my own embarrassment, I leave the room. The door shuts behind me. I want to fling myself into the ocean. Even sick, he's still cruel.