Captains' Days -

Captains' Days

A Modern Mythos on-going story

Chapter One

"Tommy Clarke, you little bastard, get over here!" a boisterous voice shouted at him from across the crowded bar. Tommy looked up and saw the hulking figure of his friend Alan O'Briain moving towards him, a giant smile on his face. Alan was dressed in the most half-assed attempt at a Sherlock Holmes costume Tommy had ever seen. If it wasn't for the deerstalker hat, he might've just thought Alan had shown up in an ugly jacket and pants. "You're not even celebrating yet, you little gobshite? You ought to be astonished that you got promoted into being a Captain. I wouldn't have thought you'd have had the iron stomach for it."

"Yeah, well, there's loads of shite you don't know about me, Alan," Tommy chuckled, bringing a cup of coffee to his lips, despite the fact that for the better part of the last hour, since the ceremony had wrapped up, people had been trying to push alcohol in his direction. Tommy had shown up in a blue button up shirt with a bright gold badge on it, a good replica for Sean Connery's outfit in the early 80s sci-fi classic 'Outland.' "I made Captain because I'm damn good at what I do, and because I don't leave messes in me wake."

"Good enough to overcome the black mark that ol' Captain Feng's got for you in his little book of names, even, it seems."

"Yep, good enough to overcome even that," Tommy confirmed, even if he was getting damn tired of people asking about that.

"Well then, here's to you, Tommy Clarke," Alan said, raising a pint glass he'd hauled over with him. "The youngest wizard to ever hold the rank of Captain of the Wizard's Green House. May he not also be the

youngest

to die in said position. Sláinte!"

"Jaysis, Alan, give it a rest, will ya?" Tommy sighed. "There's bleedin' seven of us. Odds're good'n it'll be someone else before it'll be me. Besides, I've got Grand Captain Feng around to keep tabs on me for a while now."

The Grand Captain of the Wizard's Green House, Tony Feng, placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder, which would've normally made him jump a couple of feet into the air. Tony was slight, almost a whisper of a man, thin and reedy, with a gaunt face that looked far younger than it really was, and yet still seemed older than the rest of his body implied it should be. He had this ridiculous tiny, pointy beard that he would occasionally stroke. He was dressed as the fictional detective Charlie Chan. "Despite our differences in the past, Captain Clarke, I respect you well enough to admit you earned your place among our ranks, and I hope that you will take the responsibilities of your new role as seriously as you take your dedication to having a good time."

"If not moreso, Grand Captain," Tommy replied with a cheeky smile, and a half-tossed salute.

"Yes. Well. See to it."

Tommy really wished people would let the one thing go. It wasn't the one thing he wanted to be best known for. He'd have to make his tenure as a Captain all that more memorable, he realized, if he ever wanted to escape the shadow of that singular moment.

"It's only about an hour until your Captain's Day starts, Tommy boy," Alan chuckled. "You going to make a go for it? Capture yourself a double agent?"

"Now now, Alan," Tommy smirked. "If I told you, where'd be the fun in that? You know as well as I do that I get carte blanche for imprisonment for the full day, and if I decide to go double hunting, I'm going to come back successful. Haven't decided if I will yet or not, though."

"You aren't going to get many opportunities at this, Tommy boy," Alan said. "So if you don't at least try, you're going to feel like a fool. Besides, you know there's members from all the other houses in town, eager to get a look at you. There's got to be someone in there who'll catch your fancy. I've even heard there are a few people practically daring you to make a run at them."

"People who

want

you to go after them are probably more trouble than they're worth, don't you think, Alan?"

"

I

think that I'd give my left nut to get the chance to go chasing after whoever I wanted with no consequences, win or lose," Alan sighed. "Shit, that's reason enough to go through the hassle of being a captain in the first fucking place." He looked down at his mostly consumed pint then back up at Tommy. "Tell me you're at least going to make a go of it. You only get a maximum seven cracks at this, and that's assuming you'd ever make it to Grand Captain, which we all know you ain't gonna live long enough to see. So can you promise me you're going to take a swing at someone tomorrow? At least one swing?"

"I'll consider it, Tommy. But I think you'll be happy with how I'm going to spend my day, one way or the other. Just because I might be going on the hunt doesn't mean I'll catch anything," Tommy grinned, finishing up his cup of coffee.

A waiter or page dressed in a tuxedo and a domino mask made his way up to Tommy, a silver platter with a single folded sheet of paper resting atop it. "Message for you, Master Clarke," the young man said, holding out the tray towards him.

Tommy picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it, finding a playing card inside of it - a Joker, in shades of red. '

Silversmith,

' Tommy thought to himself, feeling his breath catch in his throat. He looked at the piece of paper and found a very simple note written in elegant script.

Meet me on the roof. ~js

One did not decline an invitation from

any

member of the Deck, most especially one of the two Jokers, but the Red Joker himself carried with it a special amount of solemnity. The Dragonborn was no one to be trifled with, even with the most planned out care.

The Deck was the club of the 54 most powerful spellcasters in the world (barring the Unbreakable Two, obviously). The only way to get an invitation into The Deck was to kill one of the existing members, something that happened often enough in the long view of things, but not so often in the short view. They were mostly humans, but there was nothing against members of the other Houses joining the Deck.

Silversmith was one of the best-known members of The Deck, even though he'd gone missing for quite a significant amount of time. Regardless of where he'd spent that absence, these days he was back, and doing what he did best - wrangling down errant magic use that threatened to break the Veil and expose their existence to all of humanity. He was ruthless, calculating and efficient. But despite the fact that Tommy knew he

should

be scared of the man, he wasn't. If he'd done something to upset Silversmith, Tommy knew he wouldn't have gotten a note - he would've simply disappeared into the night. No, this was something different.

Tommy reached into his pocket, pulled out a tenner and dropped it on the silver tray then made his way over towards the stairs off to the side of the room, ducking out of his own party before heading up the stairs. It was quite a few flights up to the roof, and Tommy found himself halfway up wishing he'd found the elevator instead. Fourteen flights later, however, he finally reached the top of the building, stepping on top of the structure, looking out into the foggy night, the view of downtown San Francisco diffused by the thin wispy clouds that had settled on top of it.

Standing at the edge of the roof was one solitary figure, dressed in a simple black and crimson eastern styled suit, the cuffs and collar the red highlights against the mostly black silk. It was Tommy's first time meeting Jonas Silversmith, and on first impressions, he didn't look as scary as he'd expected him to, which only made him twice as nervous. The magicians who put on impressive outwards appearances were generally compensating, and those with the most power often presented with the most meager and humble appearances. Silversmith looked more like a college professor than the deadliest spell combatant ever to have lived. He was a little paunchy, a bit of a beer gut beneath that suit, and his eyes revealed a bit of world-weariness that Tommy wouldn't have expected. His black hair was thinning on top, starting to reveal a widow's peak, and his dark eyes were behind a pair of silver, circular wire-rimmed glasses.

As soon as Tommy stepped onto the roof, he felt a gun barrel against his back.

"Hold a moment, Seventh Captain of Wizard's Green," Silversmith said from his perch. "My assistant Kelly needs to make sure you aren't going to do me any harm."

"Well," Tommy said with a wry smirk. "I've got plenty of weapons on me, m'Lord, so if you're looking to disarm me, we could be here all night."

"There's only a few things she needs to be careful of," Silversmith said as the young woman stepped around so Tommy could see her. She looked like a buxom goth version of a Barbie doll, her hair done up into a bun, with pink heels that had to add a couple of inches to her height. She held a wicked gleaming Desert Eagle in her right hand.

"He's clear, Daddy," Kelly said before strolling over towards the edge of the building, hopping up on it, swinging her legs back and forth playfully. "He wasn't kidding about having a bunch of weapons on him, either. He's packing like a dozen different blades and preprepared spells tucked into charms on him."

"Come over here, Tommy," Silversmith said to him, as Tommy slowly started to make his way across the cool rooftop. The air of San Francisco in October was frigid, and Tommy hadn't thought to bring his coat with him, but he knew whatever Silversmith wanted with him, they wouldn't be long out in the exposed night.

"I haven't done something wrong, have I, Lord Silversmith?"

Silversmith offered Tommy the most marginal amount of a smile, or at least he thought he did, but it was gone before he could give a second glance to confirm. "Not at all, my boy. I'm actually here to congratulate you. You're not only the youngest Captain of the Wizard's Green House, but the youngest Captain ever to be named of any of the seven Wizard Houses ever. It's quite the remarkable feat, and should be very proud of yourself, although with your lineage, I never doubted it."

Tommy tensed up, glancing over at the Dragonborn. "You know where I come from?"

"I do."

"Will you tell me?"

"Alas, I cannot, but the time will come when you learn who your parents are," Silversmith said. "They had their reasons for not remaining a part of your life, and leaving you in the care of Vastian School, and you thrived there."

"In spite of never being loved."

"You've always been loved, Thomas," Silversmith said to him. "They simply can't be around to show you. It was as much for your protection as it was their own."

"Mmm." Tommy said, moving to lift one foot, bending his knee so he could put the sole of his boot on the raised edge of the building. "You know who says things like that? Absentee parents." Tommy paused for a long moment before looking over at the powerful wizard. "You aren't my father, are you?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Mmm," Tommy reiterated. "It might've been cool to be the son of the Red Joker, but I suppose you're right - without any parents, there were no expectations set for me of who or what I might become. I know a lot of teachers at Vastian thought I might become a discoverer, a chaser of the horizons of magic, trying to do new and undiscovered things, but I've always been far too practical for that. I didn't like seeing people hurt, so I employed my skills as a justice, even at a young age. I ensured those bigger, stronger, older, meaner couldn't take advantage of those younger, smaller, less skilled. That meant I always had to be several steps ahead of what everyone expected of me. I never took offense at that, simply saw it as a challenge, a step needed to be taken."

"Is that why you put your name forward for consideration as a Captain?"

"I can take it by your tone that you know that

I

didn't put it forward but was in fact put forward by several

others

who thought it a role I should take on," Tommy said, scratching at one of his brown mutton chops. "I didn't feel comfortable being up for consideration as I still have much to learn."

"Despite your feelings regarding the matter, you may end up being one of the most important Captains ever to hold the title."

Tommy scowled at his elder. "I don't take kindly to prophecy, Dragonborn," he said. "It's nothing but a bunch of hogwash and bullshit. No matter how strong the wizard, the future is

unwritten

, and the only way to know what will happen is to live it."

"No one can predict for

certain

what will happen, but there are paths, options, general directions that things can be seen to be coming. We cannot tell the individual footsteps, but we can spot large changes in the terrain before they're entirely upon us. And you stand a very good chance of becoming someone who's going to influence not only your house but all the houses across all the tribes across all the continents. Therefore, I thought it best that I come and size up your intentions on what you will be

doing

with your new Captainship."

"I'm not sure I understand the question," Tommy said, leaning forward, folding his hands atop his knee, looking out into the night.

"Are you going be an activist Captain, working to employ your position to further advance the position of your House among the others, or are you going to be a passive Captain, happy to just get along by going along?"

"Neither. I've never been the sort to just roll over and let other people dictate to me how things should be done," Tommy said. "As a Captain, it's my job to ensure there's peace and justice between the seven factions, despite how much it seems like they may all hate one another. But I also don't believe that any one House or faction should be stronger or more influential than another. I don't see the benefit of a singular group dictating how all the others should live their lives."

"Mmmm," Silversmith said. "It's easy to hate that which you have chosen not to know. I remember when my heritage was revealed, how poorly The Deck looked upon me, especially as I challenged the previous Red Joker for his place in The Deck. 'A Dragonborn will have been lax in his studies because of his innate gifts,' they said of me. 'He is neither human nor dragon, welcome in neither faction. He no more belongs among The Deck than a chimpanzee who had been trained to grind an organ.' I didn't listen, of course, and the previous Red Joker posed little of a challenge for my skills."

"I'm not planning on challenging any member of The Deck any time soon, if that's what you're asking, Dragonborn."

"That

isn't

what I'm asking, and I think we both know that, Captain Clarke," Silversmith said in his dry and almost piercing tone. "What I'm asking is are you planning on taking part in the Captain's Day hunt permitted by your elevation? They told you the rules, I'm hoping?"

"Everyone this side of the Veil knows about the rules of Captains' Days, Dragonborn."

"Quite right," he said. "Since you've been elevated to fill the rank of Seventh Captain of the Wizard's Green House, you and the other six Green Wizard's House Captains have twenty-four hours to freely capture anyone from the other factions or tribes to become your double agent. Double agents are, of course, privately registered with the Quiet Council and with The Deck; they cannot be punished for their indiscretions or infidelity to their original allegiance. The Great Game has been going on for centuries now, and the rules will be abided by. Anyone caught and held by you or one of your fellow captains at midnight tomorrow is under your allegiance now and forever more. Most of your fellow Captains have one or two informants they've captured on previous Captains' Days, although I don't think any of them succeeded on their first go at it. How about you?"

"If I put my mind to it, I can accomplish anything," Tommy said. "So this I will do. I'm not going to go too out of my way for it, but I've been told these Elevation Parties tend to bring out people wanting to dare the system, a load of Icarus children eager to see if they can fly right next to the sun without being burned. And if not, well, I have tomorrow afternoon and evening to see about hunting someone local."

"Usually your colleagues have targeted someone with some reach or prestige, someone they know can always provide useful information," Silversmith told him.

"Mmmm," Tommy agreed. "I know, and more often than not, the double agent has been identified and quickly cut out of the loop for useful and actionable intel, leaving the Captain with a mouth to feed that can't pull its own weight. Too much planning leaves too long a trail."

"I've heard tell that someone has set their intentions on you, young Captain, that they have machinations of their own they're hoping to bind you up in." Silversmith knew far more than he was sharing, Tommy could tell, but he supposed someone with that reliable of a spy network must always feel like everyone was eight or nine steps behind him. "Someone who intends to use your option to snare them as your spy as their opportunity to turn

you

into their own as well."

"If that's true," Tommy said, stepping back and away from the ledge. "I'll have to use extra care to ensure my own safety for the next day or two."

"It's as part of that as to why I am here, Captain Clarke," Silversmith said with a slight smile. "I am... loath to be indebted to

anyone

, but your father keeps the longest ledger of owed favors of anyone I know and given a chance to lower the amount of my personal red in his book, I will always take it. But, also in typical fashion for your father, I am to provide you with a rather cryptic choice. If you like, I can provide you with a large amount of aid, which will give you a strong and favorable short-term outcome with little-to-no risk. Or, on the other hand, I can provide you with a smaller amount of aid, which will likely assist in a much stronger and more favorable

long-term

outcome, but with a moderate amount of risk involved in the process. As your father presented it to me, you have an option between 'the safe way' and 'the fun way.' The choice is entirely yours, naturally."

"Have you any thoughts on the matter?"

The Red Joker offered him a familiar smile, one very similar to one that Tommy had seen in the mirror most mornings when he'd woken up. It was that of someone enjoying the sport of what they were doing. "I think the safe path is taken by the meek and the paranoid, and that a life lived without adventure is lived twice as long with ten times less enjoyment. That's no life to me; that is punishment."

"On this we are in agreement," Tommy said. "Let's gamble."

"Your right hand, please." Tommy extended his right hand palm up, which the Silversmith took and flipped over, pondering the back of Tommy's hand for a long moment. "This will sting a bit." The elder wizard took a single fingertip and began to draw atop the back of Tommy's right hand, the flesh turning bright orange for a moment where the Silversmith drew upon it. It stung like he was being burned from the inside, but the flesh returned to normal almost as quickly as it had changed and left no scarring or burn marks upon it. "For the next 36 hours, you now bear the Dragonborn's Shield, albeit not as strong as the one I innately carry with me everywhere I go. You understand?"

"I do," Tommy replied. "I'm guessing the safer option would have been for the shield to be as strong as your natural one."

"It would have. Do you feel like you have chosen poorly?"

Tommy grinned. "I feel like I have chosen more interestingly. Good or bad seems immaterial to that based on where I stand."