"Where is your captain?" asked the lead inspector, his tone sharp and expectant as his eyes swept over the group. The inspectors wore the typical uniform of the imperial navy- dark blue coats, white breeches, piped red cuff flaps, white lapels and epaulettes, and brass buttons. The lead inspector's uniform was ornamented with a couple medals as well as a white thick line on the cuffs of his coat. He also bore a gleamingly white lanyard.
The imperial inspectors stood straight and still as statues in the chilly morning fog.
"I must apologize, Sir. The captain just woke up. Last night we had some bad chow, so he's on the bucket at the moment. He'll be right out." Perona lied. Perona was dressed in Cozith's uniform. She still wasn't sure where the crew was- Amon went out looking for them a long time ago.
"Totally understandable. I understand how travel rations sit on the stomach. However," The lead inspector said, "we will need to take inventory of your ship. There have been many smugglers along these routes, you understand. Nothing personal, just a routine inspection."
"Of course. Shall I lead the way, then?" Perona was remarkably calm.
"No, I have some questions about your voyage. If you don't mind sending one of your guards down with these kind officers, we might continue our conversation?" He gestured to the other three imperial inspectors.
"I can take them down to the hold. I don't think Ms. Aralynn has been down there before since she's been sticking to the upper decks." Grango offered. He stuck a 'Ms.' before Aralynn's name on purpose to appear a bit more formal for a hired hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Grango. If you get the chance, check where Hadarai and Amon are, would you? Ms. Aralynn mentioned that Mr. Amon went to check up on the captain- make sure that he's okay."
There was a pink glint in Perona's eyes- subtle, but unmistakable. The lead inspector missed it, though Aralynn caught it: some unspoken message passed between them, likely through a skill.
"Yes'm," Grango said, nodding politely. "Right this way then, kind sirs." He opened the door to the quarterdeck[1] and led the inspectors deeper into the ship.
Aralynn questioned the wisdom of doing the exact opposite thing that Celran had told them to do.
Perona must've known her thoughts, as she shot Aralynn a quick look- trust me, it said. She had a plan.
"Very well," the inspector said. "When did you set out, and what's your destination?"
Perona didn't flinch. "Yesterday, sir. We're en route to…"
She slipped into a confident lie, spinning a plausible tale from scraps of conversation she'd shared with Celran the day before.
- - -
{Amon's POV}
Shit. Where am I? I could've sworn the Captain's quarters were here- OW! He bumped into solid steel.
Amon rubbed his horns and nose, tearing up a little from the impact. He looked up. "Hadarai?"
The armored figure lowered his shield. "Amon? Aren't we being boarded? Are they here yet?"
"Haven't seen anyone yet." Amon glanced at the door behind Hadarai. "That the cargo hold?"
"It is."
Amon hesitated, eyes narrowing as he thought. "If they're boarding… we don't know how many there are, or how prepared they are. Just standing here might not be the best option."
Hadarai shifted, adjusting the grip on his shield. "I could claim I've captain's orders to not let anyone in. Hold them at the door, if it comes to that."
"You could try," Amon said doubtfully, "but inspectors don't need permission to search. And if you stand in their way, that's only going to make them suspicious.. Worse, they might decide you're a threat."
Hadarai frowned. "Well, what else can we do- hide? It's not exactly easy to hide in this." He gestured to his full armor with a clank.
"True," Amon said. "But if we slip into the hold, we can set up an ambush. Use the element of surprise. It's better than standing out in the open, waiting to get questioned."
There was a beat of silence as Hadarai weighed the idea. Then, with a slow nod, he turned and pushed open the cargo hold door. Darkness greeted them, thick and still. Inside, they slipped behind two large crates positioned on either side of the entrance, pulling the door shut behind them with a soft click.
- - -
{Grango's POV}
Perona, the half-elf, had given him a telepathic message to lead them to the hold. Grango wasn't sure why, especially when Celran had given them all orders to keep them out of the cargo bay at all costs. However, the half-elf had told him that she had a plan, and Grango trusted her enough.
He led the three inspectors behind him through the dimly lit narrow walkways of the Blue Locust 2 before stopping before the cargo hold.
Grango turned around. "It'll be right here then, good sirs," he said with a ribbit, opening the door. "Hope you've got your own light- only the steward has the lantern key, and for the life of us we can't find her," he lied.
"Very well," one of the inspectors- another elf- said. "We have our own light." He snapped his fingers and a Liechter Ball appeared, hovering over his finger. "Step aside, please. We will now conduct our inspection."
Grango bowed and stepped out of the way. Inside, his heart began to beat faster and faster against his ribcage as a little sweat dripped from his webbed palms. I hope you know what you're saying, Ms. Perona.
The three inspectors strutted proudly into the room, glancing about the cargo hold, taking in all the cargo. They paused, and one of them stopped down to look at the painted labels on the crates. "Say, frogfolk," one of them asked. "What is your cargo?"
The question caught Grango off guard. "I- I wouldn't know, I'm just a hired escort. We don't ask questions," he adlibbed.
"But evidently, you know where the cargo hold is." The inspector, a human, placed his hand on the hilt of his shortsword. "Isn't that a little funny?"
"What do you mean?" Grango feigned ignorance.
"I mean," the inspector said as all three drew shortswords, metal scraping against scabbards. "that this is all a little much for a coincidence, isn't it? You can't find your steward, the only person with a key. A first mate greeted us by the entrance when the captain should be there instead, and you don't know your own cargo. This is very fishy," he said menacingly. "We'll have to take in this ship's crew for questioning."
It was at this exact moment that Amon and Hadarai chose to act. There was the sound of scraping metal, a flash of cold steel in the gloom, and the cries of the inspectors as Amon and Hadarai caught them by surprise.
One had managed to parry Hadarai's strike, but was tossed back by the sheer force. Amon's thrust with his rapier landed true, scoring a glancing cut along one of the inspector's sides. The imperial inspector yelped and clutched his wound with his spare hand.
"Surprise," Amon snarled.
[1] The raised bit of deck at the back of sailing ships- in typical fantasy depictions, that's where your steering wheel (helm) will be.