Book 2: Chapter 31: Patch 6.0: The Second Round
Book 2: Chapter 31: Patch 6.0: The Second Round
When Fenrir makes it back to The Shoebill with Oleander and Bonekraka, he sees the rest of the crew standing together on the deck facing down somebody who looks to be one of Ull’s men.
As much as Fenrir would love to take down one of Ull’s men while they’re separated away from the rest of his forces, he now has a plan to take care of Ull’s crew during the tournament. He’ll bite his tongue for now.
“Why are you here?” Fenrir asks, approaching the man.
“You’re Fenrir, right?” the man asks. “Captain of this ship?”
“That’s me. By the way, how does my new gear look? I’m pretty lucky that I was able to find this in my size,” Fenrir asks, patting the leather armor and sword that he took from Ull’s men whom ambushed him.
“My king wishes to have a meeting with you before the tournament. Come with me,” the man says, ignoring Fenrir’s taunts and walking past him.
“Why should I?”
“You want to save that monster, don’t you? He has a deal for you.”
Fenrir’s canid ears twitch. He looks back at the others and says, “I’ll be back before the second round begins.”
“What if it’s a trap?! Come on! You can’t just trust him and go!” Cassiel shouts. Serra takes her side with a nod.
The man looks back at them and says, “You are welcome to come along if you are worried.”
Serra and Cassiel walk up to Fenrir’s sides. “We’re coming with you,” Cassiel says.
“What if it’s a trap?” Fenrir asks them.
“Shut up, you bastard. If you’re fine with walking into a potential trap by yourself, we’re fine doing the same for ourselves.”
He wants to tell them to stay here, but when he looks at their expressions, he knows that wouldn’t go over well. Plus, Cassiel has a point. It wouldn’t be fair to them to disallow them from doing what he’s going to do. “Alright, let’s hurry up.”
Rather than lead the trio to that mansion for important visitor’s that Oleander told Fenrir Ull’s harem was being kept at, presumably Nell as well, Ull’s man leads Fenrir to that massive flagship of Ull’s.
Some of Blackstache’s men are posted on the pier it is docked to as guards. Fenrir doesn’t know what Blackstache’s intentions are, but he feels better knowing that the guards see Fenrir boarding this ship.
More importantly, if this was a trap, they’d likely be leading Fenrir below deck rather than to its highest deck where the ship’s wheel and Ull’s throne are at.
Fenrir balls his hands into fists as soon as he sees Nell chained to the deck next to where Ull is sitting. His “throne” is more like some fancy, elaborate green and gold pillows that he’s kneeling down on with his four cervine legs.
“Let us get to the point, Fenrir,” Ull says.
“Are you okay, Nell?” Fenrir asks her.
Nell opens her mouth to speak but gets it shut tightly by Ull’s hand.
“Nehalennia is fine,” Ull answers.
“I asked her, not you.”
“And I brought you here to talk to me, not her. What is your point?”
Fenrir takes a single step forward, but the man who led him here draws his sword and holds it in front of Fenrir’s path.
“You’re a bastard,” Cassiel says.
“Our deer is better,” Serra adds on.
“Keep your pets checked unless you would rather I personally teach them how to behave,” Ull threatens.
Now it’s Fenrir holding an arm out to prevent Cassiel from marching up to Ull.
“What did you want to talk about?” Fenrir asks.
“I have a deal for you, Fenrir. If you win this tournament, I will hand over Nehalennia. If you lose, then you will submit to me and become my pet,” Ull offers before looking past him at Serra and Cassiel. “I will take everything that belongs to you as well. Your ship, your crew, the clothes off your back, and your two pets behind you. Nehalennia is worth more than all of you and everything you own combined, so this is an incredible deal to be offered. Plus, you seem smart and capable of pulling off what none others have. So—”
“No.”
“Let me finish, wolf.”
“There’s no point. I said no.”
“Fen! We can beat this bastard, and we can’t just let him talk to us like that! Let’s take his deal and—” Cassiel gets interrupted.
“No. I’m not betting either of you to this asshole, I’m not betting The Shoebill, Rock, or anybody else. This is between me and him,” Fenrir explains.
“But we’re fine with it,” Serra says.
“It doesn’t matter. Even if I was one hundred percent sure that we could win the tournament and that neither of you would ever be at any risk, I wouldn’t accept this bullshit of a deal.” He looks at Nell. “Sorry, Nell, but I’m not going to bet the people I love.”
Part of Fenrir feels bad when he sees Nell’s teary eyes and her hands over her mouth, but he realizes something. She’s not crying because she’s sad nor disappointed. If anything, that look in her eyes – she looks happy and proud.
Ull notices how she’s looking at him as well. “So, this is the kind of man that it took to bring out your pride?” Ull asks her.
“A man far better than you,” Nell answers.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Fenrir says, “I’m going to save you, Nell. I’m just going to do it without putting anybody else I care about at risk. I know how this works. If I agree to this deal while Serra and Cass are consenting to it, that would essentially allow you,” he looks at Ull, “to do whatever you want to them – to all of us. Traumatic content can be enabled for case-to-case occasions like this, right? If we consent to it, having traumatic content disabled isn’t going to do anything for us. If we make a formal deal saying you will own us, then you’ll own us and be allowed to do anything with us.” He looks back at Serra and Cassiel. “That’s not something I would ever risk for either of you,” he tells them.
“You’re clever for a wolf, Fenrir,” Ull says.
“So I’ve heard.”
“And if I were to send Nehalennia on a ship back to Valhalla, protected by a fleet of twenty ships, right this instant?”
“You said it yourself. I can pull off what nobody else has.”
“And,” Ull’s voice sounds deeper now – no, Fenrir recognizes the tone in his voice as frustrated anger, “if I kill you here for telling me to my face that you wish to defiantly act against me? There is nothing stopping me from slaying you where you stand without so much as even drawing my bow. Then I could just chain your pets and keep them with the rest of mine.”
Fenrir looks up. “I don’t doubt that you would’ve done it already if there was nothing really stopping you.”
Ull doesn’t have to look up to grimace at Fenrir’s realization. “Get him off my ship,” Ull demands.
“Alright, come on,” Ull’s guard says, grabbing Fenrir by his shoulder to lead him off the ship.
However, before Fenrir can be taken away, he has one last thing to announce. “Hope you’re looking forward to Ragnarök, Ull. I’m sure Jörmungandr will release its tail soon.”
Fenrir only catches a quick glimpse at Ull’s face that has been twisted from annoyance before the guard pushes him down the stairs of the ship.
When Fenrir, Serra, and Cassiel are back on the pier, the two girls wrap their arms around him a tight hug.
“H-hey, what’s gotten into you two?” he asks them.
“You know what you did, you bastard,” Cassiel mumbles against him.
“You were really cool and defended us,” Serra explains.
“Just doing my job as a boyfriend,” Fenrir says, petting each girl’s head.
“Fen. Why couldn’t he kill you?”
He gently pushes the girls off of him to point up at the sky where a single owl is circling above them.
“You could say that we’ve got a guardian angel – well, maybe a guardian witch, watching over us. Alright, come on. We’ve got a tournament to go win,” Fenrir says.
“How are we going to save Nell, though?” Cassiel asks.
“When Jörmungandr releases its tail and when Fenrir breaks out from its binds, Ragnarök begins.”
“Quit the Norse roleplaying and just explain it like a normal person.”
“Oh. I have no idea yet, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”
“Go back to your Norse roleplaying, you dog bastard,” Cassiel says with her face in her palm.
“Fen will think of something. He’s the hero,” Serra says.
“See? Somebody has faith in me,” Fenrir says while sneaking a finger closer and closer to Cassiel’s side.
Unfortunately, Cassiel notices the approaching finger, grabs onto it, and starts bending it far enough backward that only having fifty percent of pain enabled does little to stop the pain.
“You’re lucky I love you,” Cassiel grumbles.
“Luckiest in the world,” Fenrir says.
“Wha—” Cassiel’s cheeks turn bright red. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m in a good mood. Got to spend the night with my girlfriends and got to see a crack in that bastard’s armor. He hates me. I thrive off of hate from pricks like that.”
“Fen is the coolest,” Serra says, clinging to his arm as they walk.
“You’ve got that right,” he agrees.
“He’s also the cockiest,” Cassiel says, holding his other hand.
“You’ve got that right.”