Chapter 108: Witch's Rest

“You know, you don't have to accompany me,” Artyom says to Alissa who has once again attached herself to his arm.

“I’m just here to make sure you don't get lost,” she says with a forced smile as she looks around the dimly lit streets and the many [Pirates] walking around the docks. At least, that's what they look like to Artyom. The black flags with crossbones flying on the ships are a dead giveaway.

“So, this Witch’s Rest. Where is it?” Alissa asks after a moment and Artyom can only frown. Shiro said the place would be at the docks and that it would be called the Witch’s Rest, but so far, none of the buildings seemed to be named anything similar. Granted, there are no short number of taverns available with very… interesting names. One they came across was named Icewing Sails and another called The Girthy Erection. That specific establishment seemed to have quite a lot of noisy activity coming from inside.

Alissa takes a few quick glances at the different groups, finding that the two of them are both attracting a not insignificant amount of attention. Unfortunately, though the two of them haven’t been making any stops, their journey may not be close to over considering the great size of the docks.

Jotunheim is a city that trades via the ocean during the colder weather when travel and transport is difficult. The goods they trade mostly consist of rare monster parts that are often used for crafting strong items, serving as components for enchanting, or as ingredients in potion creation.

Alissa sighs and takes a big breath before pulling Artyom towards a group of three men who are most likely [Pirates] and who are just as likely to also be drunk.

“Um. Excuse me, gentlemen. Would you mind helping us for a moment? We're a little lost.” She quickly says to the annoyance of Artyom.

The three rough-looking men stop talking and laughing, turning towards the lady who just spoke to them.

“Well, wat hav we ‘ere?” one of them begins as he looks at the two now standing before them, “Lost, ar we? Dat’s no good,” he says as he chuckles. He examines Alissa with a clearly lustful stare. Alissa takes a step back and behind Artyom.

“Look at dat, wat a nice little girl. How bout ya leave da bloke and come play wit us?” the other drunkard says as he takes a sip from his drink and burps, wafting the rather potent stench of alcohol over to Artyom.

“Mate, we shuld leavem alone,” The third [Pirate], or rather a [Pirate Seadog], says as he looks at Artyom. He is the most sober of the bunch and he can tell that Artyom, though not large like most northern men, is not someone to be trifled with. It's not through a skill, but through experience. Powerful people have a certain way about them.

“Feh. Ya coward. Dat girl wants some fun!” The first man chuckles, “How bout ya help us out, girly,” he says as he leers down at her breasts and takes a few drunken steps forward.

Artyom's arm reaches forward and grabs the drunk [Pirate] by the neck. In a smooth motion, he lifts the man into the air before leaning the body back and quickly throwing the drunken idiot a good hundred meters away from the docks and into the cold salty ocean water.

“Ah, shite,” the second drunkard says before attempting a hasty escape.

Artyom turns towards the soberest man, also the last one remaining. “I’m looking for The Witch's Rest,” he says with a voice promising pain if he does not get an answer.

The [Pirate Seadog] gulps and points towards the ships moored at the docks. “Dah ship be a Galleon wit ice an a minder skull.”

Artyom looks at the ships, finding the described one quickly. It is a galleon with a large three eyed monster skull at the front and glowing ice covering its hull. Apparently, Shiro forgot to mention that The Witch’s Rest was not actually an inn, but a ship that functioned as an Inn.

“Gua, bugahhhh!”

Another splash can be heard as another [pirate] lands in the frigid waters.

Artyom turns towards the second guy of the three. The man that had attempted to abscond had ended up running into a post and then fell into the water on his own.

Artyom sighs while shaking his head before beginning to walk away with a blushing and smiling Alissa still attached to his arm.

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As the two approach the boat, they can hear the loud ruckus of music and partying coming from within. Artyom walks towards the entrance, a large opening in the side of the ship, with Alissa hanging onto his side. A tall, northern-looking man wearing a [Sailor]’s garb stands on a short bridge leading to the entrance. He stares at Artyom before his mouth breaks into a wide grin.

“I saw what you did there to that lad. Impressive throw. Go right on in.”

Artyom is surprised that the man had been watching, but gives no answer other than a grunt of acknowledgment before walking past and stepping into the giant ship

Upon entering, Artyon is greeted with a cacophony. Loud and boisterous would be the best way to describe the noise of the [Pirates], [Sailors], [Mercenaries], [Merchants], and the many other patrons of the establishment. Most of the guests are seated at round tables made of glowing, unnatural looking ice which serve as illumination instead of the usual firelight used in such establishments. To Artyom, it all looks and feels surreal, but the residents seem to not care. Instead, they merrily eat and drink while chatting and laughing.

At the front of the ship is a [Skald] singing and reciting a poem to the relaxing music of two [Bards], still clearly audible despite the din. The music and words seem to meld with the hubbub of the room, making the atmosphere more relaxing for many of the patrons, including Artyom.

“Hey! Artyom! Over here!”

Artyom turns towards the sound and finds Shiro waving to him from his table. Artyom navigates through the crowded room to the mercenary and his crew. He sits at a chair by the table and Alissa takes one directly beside him.

“It’s great to see you! I was worried you weren’t going to show,” Shiro says. He waves and catches the attention of a [Barmaid]. He makes a drinking motion while pointing at Artyom.

The [Barmaid] nods in return.

“Now then, Artyom…” Shiro says, smiling. “The tournament starts next week! How far do you expect to go, if you don't mind me asking?”

The [Barmaid] shows up and places an abnormally large mug of some drink in front of him before quickly walking away.

“Let me correct a false assumption you appear to have made. I am not here because I wish to compete. I am here because I am obliged to compete.” Artyom says as he grabs the mug and takes a sip. He smiles, enjoying the taste.

Shiro, Vidar, Aljnar, and Ulfric silently exchange wide-eyed glances in disbelief.

“Wait, you're not here to test yourself? What about the glory of the tournament ?” asks Aljnar as he leans forward.

“Aljnar,” Vidar, the oldest member of the group begins, “not everyone here wants to fight for glory. There are many reasons to fight and just as many reasons not to.”

Ulfric nods, “He’s right, honor is not everything.”

Then Ulfric stares intently at Artyom, a man who appears to be of a similar age.

“You're here because of the Jarl’s summons. If you refused, then idiots would constantly come challenging you, disturbing your peace and quiet. Correct?”

Artyom nods.

Ulfric grunts before taking a sip of his drink, “I’ve been in your shoes. I was a [Thane] of a nearby town. I fought and protected those who lived there before I got my invite to the tournament. At the time, I refused to go because I felt like I needed to stay in order to protect my people in case of an attack.”

Ulfric shakes his head, “Biggest mistake of my life. After the tournament, I had idiots challenging my honor for an entire year. It was as frustrating as it was annoying. I joined the tournament the following year. I did moderately well and Shiro here proposed that I join his [Mercenaries].”

“Wait, but what happened to your town?” Alissa voices as she leans forward, holding her considerably smaller drink in hand.

Everyone stops, staring at the young lady. More specifically at the drink. Nobody noticed her getting it, nor was any [Barmaid] nearby. It almost seemed to have appeared in her hand.

Ulfric coughs into his hand and shakes his head, “Well, I’m still the [Thane]. I make a lot of money being a mercenary, enough to hire two dozen [Guards] to protect my town and my two wives.”

“I told you it would work out!” Shiro exclaims, reaching over and clapping Ulfric on the shoulder.

“Yes, you did,” Ulfric says with a small smile.

Artyom takes another gulp of his drink, starting to feel rather tipsy. Just slightly, but enough to loosen his lips.

“Shiro, what's your story?”

Shiro raises his eyebrows before giving a smile and leaning forward.

“Mine. Well, it's a bit complicated. You see my darker skin?” He points to his face. “It's because I’m partly from the western islands. My father was a [Sailer] and [Berserker] who once served on this specific ship. He was a northern man with the usual [Minor Strength] bloodline. Big, strong, brutal, and could take out a [Pirate] ship all on his own. The Witch’s Rest was one of the deadliest ships at sea.”

“The [Pirate Queen] didn't seem to think so,” says Vidar.

“I was getting to that. Anyways, yes. The Witch’s Rest got into a tussle with the [Pirate Queen] and her ship, The Royal Fortress. Now that is an impressive ship. I’ve only seen it once, but it is a monster of a ship. I think the only ship that’s ever been larger was supposedly The Haven, but that's been lost for a long time.”

Shiro chugs his drink and lays back in his chair with a smile on his face.

“Anyhow, The Witch’s Rest lost the fight and was forced to escape. They moored at the island Kuniumi to make repairs. It was also there that my dad met my mother. If the story holds true, my father fell so in love with my mother that he demanded my mother come back to the north with him.”

Shiro chuckles.

“My mom was in love too, but she also loves her people. So they had a contest. They fought a duel where the loser had to stay with the winner.”

Shiro stretches and waves his hand at a [Barmaid] who only nods, but is clearly very busy running around.

“My mother is a [Master Fencer], and she won by avoiding my father until his [Berserker’s Rage] skill forced him to collapse from exhaustion. That was about forty years ago.”

“You’ve combined their classes.” Artyom says, getting a wink from Shiro in return.

“Yup. I learned from both of them. They're still alive and kicking, but dad still can't leave. I should probably see about visiting them.”

“You should,” a cold voice interjects.

Heads swerve as two women walk up to their table. One is the [Frost Witch] Revna, still wearing her ice blue robes. The other woman looks to be much older but wears a robe that is similar in color and style, but has far more intricate patterns with faintly gleaming lines weaving through them.

“Ahhh yes.” Shiro begins, “this is Lumi, the greatest [Blizzard Witch Captain] the world has ever known.”

Lumi snorts. “I'm the only one in existence,” she says before turning to Artyom. “My daughter, Revna, told me the story of how you helped kill the Perma-frost Wyvern. It's impressive for someone of your level and,” she pauses, “classes.”

Artyom blinks. His mouth morphs into a frown.

Lumi chuckles, “I know the levels and classes of anyone and everyone who sets foot on this boat. It is my ship, after all, so I get to choose the rules. Even the North knows to that.”

She then nods, “Regardless, I respect my patron’s privacy, so your secret is safe with me.”

She then looks to Alissa, “As for your wife, I do have a proposition.“

“Alissa is not my wife,” Artyom interrupts.

Lumi raises an eyebrow and watches Alissa blush. The slight smile she makes shows that she seems to understand the situation.

“Right. As for your wife, I find myself in need of a competent [Barmaid]. Would you, young lady, be interested in making a decent bit of coin? I pay well and the residents won't bother you.”

Alissa looks around, unsure until she sees Artyom's annoyed look directed at Lumi.

“Um. Alright,” she says as she stands up.

“Perfect. I can see that you have the levels and experience. Make yourself useful.”

Alissa nods to Lumi and walks towards the other workers in order to get acquainted. Lumi turns to look at her daughter, “Now, I know I’m not usually one to offer suggestions on marriage, but Artyom here is an excellent candidate.”

The men at the table go silent in surprise as Revna begins to look at Artyom in the same way a [Merchant] looks at coins.

“I do not want a wife,” Artyom states in the firmest voice he can muster.

Lumi smiles, “The best husbands usually don’t.”