Let Them Eat Chow

[Wilhelm Bosche]

“Well, there's a significant possibility that you'll be wasting another day. I'm not actually sure how far we have to go, but I'll look into that,” Wilhelm answered honestly. The door to the deck was already open, so he went out and looked around.

He hadn't noticed when he came aboard, but now that the sea was all around them, sloshing with its salty whitecaps, the boat seemed much smaller. The horizon bucked up and down in the distance and Wilhelm suddenly clutched the railing.

“First time at sea, eh?” Captain Weiss asked. “Better get used to it. Got another day or so before the pirates are likely to show, if they do at all. Tried to rig up the Red Wake to be a tempting bit 'o bait, but you never know how craven these men might be.”

“Yes, indeed,” Wilhelm said, more nauseated than any dimensional jaunt had ever made him. Beneath the sickness he was somewhat surprised at the revelation that they weren't a simple delivery. Between half-expecting the trick from Elenore and trying to keep anything other than words from coming out of his mouth, he held in his distaste with the change of plans.

“Go on back into the cabin. We've a store of grog that'll settle your stomach a bit,” Weiss said, patting Wil on the arm. “If we run into 'em, you'll know it. Otherwise, just rest up and be ready.”

Wil simply nodded and staggered his way back to the hold. He rummaged a bit through the boxes and pulled out a corked green glass bottle. He opened it and sniffed it, taking a swig before he even tried to report the news. The diluted liquor hit his stomach surprisingly well, and he felt well enough to speak a bit.

“The Captain informs me that we're on a bit more interesting mission than I thought. Evidently it involves pirates, so. . . I guess even Caesar had to start somewhere.”