Headed by a Snake

"Captain Nikandros," Lucrezia growled, looking as intimidating as a Popoto could manage. "Just why has the Golden Eagle not yet landed? Dare I remind you-- there was a *murder* last night."

The atmosphere in the dining hall at breakfast was... awkward... guarded, really.

Coraline didn't even try to keep the peace. She half-listened to the conversation while munching absentmindedly on buttered toast.

The Captain had recovered well-- especially considering how drunk he'd been the previous night. His clothes and hair were a bit disheveled compared to the first sun, but not enough for anyone but herself to notice.

"Dear guest, I sincerely apologize," Nikandros inclined his head. "Though recent events have been somewhat worrisome, I can assure you that the crew of the Golden Eagle can guarantee your safety. I must beg for your patience and understa--"

"*Patience* and understanding, Mister Nikandros, can be afforded when my husband and I aren't fearing for our lives!" Lucrezia huffed.

Baron Tychon dabbed his cloth napkin to the corners of his lips. At least *that person* seemed to be enjoying his meal.

"Lady Lucrezia, there are no airship landing pads between Victrix and Cersei's Rest. If Mister Nikandros were to land the ship, we would be open to attack from seaborne dangers... I'm sure you are aware of the implications of that."

The noble's words caused Lucrezia's face to blanch, and she averted her gaze in troubled contemplation.

Coraline nodded, pricking her fork into her breakfast plate. She hadn't realized that... and she felt slightly foolish that it had slipped her understanding.

"More importantly, Captain Nikandros," Tychon leaned forward.

"Y-yes, young master?" The half-elf gulped, trying not to directly meet the youth's golden gaze.

"The puzzle box."

"I... beg your pardon?"

"I took the puzzle box from the dining hall yesterday evening," Tychon sighed, sitting back and gesturing to the shelves behind the Captain, "I've been trying to decipher it, on-and-off throughout the night. Tell me about it."

"A... ah," Nikandros chuckled nervously. He took a short moment, gathering up his energy and once again wearing his customer-service smile.

"There are many moving panels and hidden internal mechanisms, dear guest. However, to solve it... there's a... 'trick' to it-- one not obvious at first glance."

"A trick, you say..." Tychon crossed his arms, his brows furrowed in contemplation.

"The fastest I've seen a guest find the solution was... two suns," Nikandros smirked. "It was a... Gnomish Arcanist, if I remember correctly."

The noble youth furrowed his brows, "That does not sound so daunting."

"Depending on the winds, the Golden Eagle will land tomorrow morning or afternoon," The Captain smirked. "Time is running out, young master."

Coraline exhaled through her nostrils. The Captain's words were... a decidedly poor choice.

"...I see." Tychon sat back in his seat, cradling his chin in thought.

Nikandros pushed away his plate and stood up with a troubled look, "Please excuse me, dear guests. Recent events have left me... quite fatigued."

Coraline pursed her lips, examining the distress in the older man's face. She'd heard that... 'professional drunks' were very good at acting as if they... weren't.

"Captain..." She frowned, "I'd prefer that the passengers and crew stay together, if you would."

Nikandros shrugged. "Being murdered is the least of my worries, Miss Coraline. There are far more terrifying things in this Realm-- and I'll risk it all for a drink and a nap. And besides, I'm the only one on-board capable of speaking to the ship's Elemental Spirit. Excuse me."

Coraline sighed, returning her gaze to her barely-touched breakfast. She tried.

After her questioning the previous evening, she'd found the probability of Nikandros having something to do with the murder to be low. It was just--

"I will go with the Captain," Olesya began to follow after him.

"Mm. Don't bother, lizard-butt," Maisie rested her chin on the back of her hands, "I'll go in a little bit~"

Olesya paused, turning her head back to face the human woman, "Did you have something to say to me?"

"HuhH? To you?" Maisie rolled her eyes, "Don't flatter y'self, Nemayan."

Olesya hesitated for a moment... but turned and stomped off without argument.

Coraline breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to do the same thing-- take the mature choice of walking away instead of throttling the skinny, sword-less Tyrion girl.

Maybe she was a bit biased.

She looked back at her plate... at the breakfast Maisie had 'lovingly' prepared just for her.

Miss Maisie very well knew that Coraline was vegetarian.

Ham and sausage was not vegetarian.

Beside her, Felicity leaned over to whisper into her ear, "You need to eat, Miss Coraline..."

"Y-yeah... I'm... not really that hungry, though..."

The eggs were palatable-- if overcooked and rubbery. The slurry mess that was supposed to be potatoes was beyond saving.

It was as if she'd made breakfast, herself...

She nibbled at a grilled pepper-- more for Felicity's sake than for hers...

The grease was so overbearing that everything on her plate was soaked in it. Even looking at it made her sick.

...Also the pepper was stuffed with ground meat.

Coraline frowned and lifted her gaze towards the bread basket near the center of the dining table.

At least she could fill her empty belly with that.

"Oh, there's more bread!" Maisie snatched up the basket.

Coraline didn't even have the chance to scream.

...She was going to cry, though. It was never too late to cry.

The merciless woman in a maid outfit passed it to the man sitting beside her, "Here y'go, Mista Tychon! Pass it down, if ya would!"

"...Very well," Tychon furrowed his brows but did as he was told.

BLEIGH!! Men were TRASH!! They'll listen to any woman without question as long as they had bigger than a D CUP!!!

Mister Lone was probably WORSE! That pervert! She was NEVER going to forgive him for taking her bread away!

"Well, time for me to get ta work~!" Maisie stood up, bowing politely to the guests seated at the table. "I'm assumin' Mista Ramon made a mess the uvva' night?"

Elladan groaned, lightly inclining his head in apology, "Felicity and I did the best we could to clean up. Ramon's sheets need to be washed... and we used some of our own cleaning rags as well."

Felicity frowned, "I'd offer to help... but the formations."

"It ain't no trouble, dear guests," Maisie winked coquettishly. "I'm exempted from those. And I'll be using a cleaning ritual-- quick an' easy."