Another excerpt from untitled potential WIP that is Rafal-and-James-centric, but I'm not certain that the ship will happen:
This post is actually part two, but part one happens later chronologically, so read this post and this ask for context first.
The third day in the hold, another identical, scuffed pewter bowl of warm, bland gruel and a spoon were set in front of the Evil School Master, and for a third day, it would go untouched.
Already, it was beginning to cool. He had to act quickly.
Rafal started to tilt the bowl, intent on weaponizing it. He aimed, about to catapult the mush missile at a passing pirate and blind him with the steaming water when a moan caused him to turn.
His cellmate gazed at his would-be projectile longingly, like he wished to have a love affair with it, and finally worked up the nerve to complain directly today, grouching, “Why do you get fed? I haven’t eaten in nearly a week!”
“Because I’m me and you’re you,” Rafal proclaimed, dripping seawater and an air of superiority since his last witch-fireproofing dunk.
The stripling—no, James, Rafal had heard others call him that—scowled deeply.
Rafal suppressed a sigh, observing the tremor in the boy’s frame. “Take it. I don’t need it.” He slid the bowl over and let the spoon drop into the slop as it visibly sparked and jolted with static the moment it came into contact with his radiant electrical cuffs.
James tried and failed to hide his astonishment, but took the bowl, iron manacles and fetters jangling as he shifted over.
“You should know that it could be—”
James snatched up the spoon, ignoring how it jarred his hand with a few volts, and began to wolf down the still-steaming oats.
“Poisoned,” Rafal finished sedately.
James dropped his spoon with a clang to the wooden floor of the brig. “What,” he demanded. “Now you tell me? Why? I thought Drogan wanted to keep you alive since you’re so important and all, Master,” he sniped. “Doesn’t he need a live bargaining chip?”
“I’m immortal. Poison just flushes out of my system with time. It’s a minor discomfort to me, but to you, well… it’s simple deduction.”
James stared dumbfounded. “You know, I think the lads were right. You’re can’t be a decent pirate without a crew, and seeing that you were captured alone—”
“I’m not,” Rafal seethed.
“Not what?” James prodded playfully. "Alone?"
“That would do it and do you in. Bet it was a mutiny. No wonder you have no crew. I wouldn’t serve you, and no one in their right mind would follow a leader of the likes of you, pirate or not.”
“My crew abandoned ship due to cowardice. Nothing more,” Rafal cut out.
“Keep telling yourself that.” The boy grinned.
“Eat. It will go cold.” Rafal nodded at the bowl.
James eyed the mealy sludge with renewed suspicion. “I don’t feel anything yet, but what if—”
“It’s not. I would know.” The School Master gazed unflinchingly into the boy’s eyes.
James picked up his spoon and obeyed.
Here's some additional plot trivia:
Rafal is later gagged so he and James don’t connive together and plot Drogan’s downfall, or besides, it could be so he can’t plan with anyone else either, to restrict his influence over the other, trapped Blackpool fellows, too. That, or all of the above and Rafal said something highly insulting, some on point, scathing, even seditionist remark that just earned him Drogan’s unyielding ire.
And I haven’t decided yet, but since hostages aren’t usually gagged (maybe there could be some kind of honor code among pirates to avoid unnecessary barbarity?), for explanation of how the enemy pirates came by the black, leather bit, I’ll just say... it was probably somehow repurposed as it could have belonged to some horse the pirates had traded at one of their regular ports. Yeah. Why not?
