The Curator
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Chapter 10
🕑 Added 2025-07-13 16:41:06 +0000 UTCWhat a breathtaking masterpiece I had just created. I stood at the rail, watching as the elven skyship slowly gained altitude, drifting high
What a breathtaking masterpiece I had just created. I stood at the rail, watching as the elven skyship slowly gained altitude, drifting higher with each passing second. Rafael, on the other hand, looked absolutely horrified — but I couldn’t bring myself to share his concern. The ship wouldn’t stay airborne for long; the power I’d infused into its wooden hull was only temporary. Perhaps it would hold for another three or four hundred meters, if the winds were merciful.
Not that it would matter. I doubted many of the elves would die from the fall. For creatures so skilled at manipulating aether, plummeting to their deaths was as unlikely as a fish drowning in the ocean. They only looked weak in comparison to me. My poor human crew, on the other hand, had nearly drowned just trying to reach the ship.
I let my eyes drift to them now — clinging to the floating wreckage like insects flailing in a rain-filled pond, their limbs jerking with desperate, uncoordinated energy. Truly, even a common dog would outshine them when it came to swimming. Rafael stood poised at the rail, ready to toss a rope to the nearest sailor, but I beat him to the honor.
With a flicker of will, I teleported to the bow. Arms wide, posture regal, I addressed them as any proper captain would.
“Welcome aboard, my friends! Once, I was an emperor and ruled over this world, but today I proudly announce an expansion of my portfolio — I am now your captain.”
With that grand declaration, the ropes slithered over the sides of the ship like obedient serpents, stretching themselves toward the struggling sailors so they could haul themselves up.
“My, my — no need to panic. There are no sharks in these waters,” I teased, as the crew clung to the ropes as if their very souls depended on it, scrambling upward with impressive speed.
Unfortunately, it seemed one of them in the back had rather poor hearing. His voice rang out, shrill and full of panic.
“Sharks! Sharks! Hurry! I don’t want to get eaten — for Aurora’s sake, climb faster!”
The words were enough to send the rest into a frenzy. Waves of panic rippled through the group as they clawed at the ropes, racing toward the deck as though hell itself chased them. Of course, there weren’t any sharks lurking in the water — just a spectacular misunderstanding. But given the results, I saw no need to correct it. A little fear was a marvelous motivator.
Rafael, to his credit, was just as panicked as the crew, hauling each sodden sailor aboard with unwavering determination. I, meanwhile, stood like the dignified captain I now was, observing the operation for — naturally — “safety reasons.”
Oddly enough, once the last sailor was pulled over the railing, all their gratitude seemed to fall squarely on Rafael. A bit unfair, in my opinion, considering it was I who had thrown the ropes, freed them, and — minor detail — defeated the elves. Admittedly, I had also thrown them off a flying ship, which probably complicated their feelings about me, but that’s the burden of being a genius: your brilliance is rarely appreciated in the moment.
One of the older sailors, still gasping for breath, turned to Rafael, his voice hoarse and heavy with concern.
“What happened down there? Where’s Mike?”
The question clearly rattled Rafael, dragging unwelcome memories back to the surface. When you’re fighting for your life, it’s easy to push aside emotions — but they always find a way to sneak back, usually when the danger has passed and the silence returns.
I couldn’t allow such somberness to settle over the day, not when this was a moment of triumph — the day I had finally escaped my underwater prison and rid myself of that insufferable angel. The mood needed lifting. First order of business: checking the elves' provisions. Elves, for all their flaws, usually stocked their ships with excellent wine — and my palate deserved a celebration.
With a quick flick of magic, I teleported down to the storage deck.
The moment my boots touched the wooden floor, the scent of fresh produce, cured meats, and fine aged cheeses enveloped me. Crates of vegetables, barrels packed with salted fish, and bundles of aromatic herbs were all neatly stashed away, kept chilled and pristine by layers of intricate runic inscriptions.
I wandered between the stacked supplies, my grin widening with every step. The elves hadn’t skimped on luxury. Barrels of wine and beer stood alongside crates of dry-aged meats and wheels of cheese that looked worthy of any imperial feast.
A thought crossed my mind — a clever little scheme. Perhaps I could cast an illusion on the storage room door to keep the others from discovering this hidden treasure. It wouldn’t hold forever, especially once Rafael started snooping around, but maybe I could strike a deal with him.
I didn’t need to eat for survival — not anymore — but after four hundred thousand years trapped in that godsforsaken prison beneath the sea, the desire for real food burned bright inside me. The others, poor souls, had probably never tasted anything this fine, but I had ruled as emperor for millennia, feasting on delicacies their simple minds couldn’t even fathom.
My mouth watered as I began assembling my first platter. Of course, fine food also deserved a worthy place to enjoy it. I was already picturing the perfect spot on deck, wine in hand, the sun setting over the horizon — the ideal way to mark the beginning of this new chapter of my life.
After helping myself to a bottle of fine elven wine, a loaf of crusty bread lightly toasted over a flickering magical flame, and a few slices of dry-aged beef, I arranged everything neatly on a silver platter. With a simple thought, I teleported to the ship’s upper deck. One of the sailors, halfway tangled in the rigging, stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes the moment he spotted me reclining there, sipping wine and leisurely nibbling at my meal — as if I were enjoying a casual afternoon picnic, rather than resting atop a freshly claimed warship.
The taste... gods, it was divine. Exactly the flavor I had longed for during those endless, dreary years in confinement. My back pressed comfortably against the mainmast, the platter floated beside me, suspended in the air by a casual manipulation of gravity, while my free hand cradled the wine bottle like the crown jewel of my escape.
The salty breeze tousled my hair and kissed my face as the sun, warm and golden, painted the world in soft light. The ship rocked ever so gently beneath me, cutting through the waves like a blade through silk. Now this, I mused, raising another slice of beef to my lips, is what I call a perfect moment.
The only blemish on this otherwise flawless picture was the sailor, still clinging to the rigging in front of me, staring so intensely he reminded me of a frog hypnotized by moonlight.
“What’s the matter? Do I look like I’ve got Medusa’s eyes?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
The man blinked a few times, shook his head as if snapping out of a trance, and quickly scrambled down the ropes — abandoning whatever task had brought him up there in the first place.
Below me, the deck was alive with motion. Sailors rushed back and forth, shouting orders, pulling ropes, and readying the ship for its next departure. I leaned back and watched the commotion, wondering where that brat Rafael intended to steer us first.
The world beyond the prison was already beginning to whisper to me. The laylines — those dense threads of aether woven around the planet by the shifting dance of celestial bodies — felt... different. Altered. Their flows had changed since the last time I walked this world. Back then, a mage could only weave truly powerful spells where multiple laylines crossed paths, but now? Now, with my truesoul safely bound within the amulet, the rules were different.
I’d spent centuries trapped beneath the sea, deciphering every last secret of my new existence — all while enduring that angel’s insufferable company. It hadn’t been wasted time. My power, though unfamiliar at first, was now something entirely beyond what I’d once known.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder whether the continents themselves had drifted, perhaps shifted by the endless wars between angels and demons. Whether they had or not was, for now, irrelevant. I intended to enjoy every moment of my freedom without concern.
Or at least I had — until another distraction presented itself.
One sailor stood out from the rest, his posture and movements betraying a sharpness the others lacked. His clothing, though soaked and wrinkled, carried the faint air of nobility. He was stalking Rafael like a predator sizing up its prey, inching closer step by step, trying hard not to draw attention.
I kept one eye on him, amused at his lack of subtlety. He crept closer, like a cat preparing to pounce, his fingers twitching toward the amulet hanging around Rafael’s neck. Lucky for him, I was still in a generous mood, otherwise I would’ve called down a bolt of lightning from the heavens and ended his little scheme on the spot.
Instead, I chose a more elegant solution. Frost bloomed beneath his boots, a thin sheen of ice forming soundlessly until his next step triggered a sharp crack. The noise snapped Rafael to attention just in time — the would-be thief lunged, his hand stretching toward the amulet.
But within a radius of three meters around Rafael, spellcasting became strained. At one and a half meters? Impossible. I had to trust Rafael’s reflexes — and after everything we’d been through, I did. The sailor’s frozen soles limited his agility, and one wrong move would send him sprawling.
The two collided with a heavy thud, tumbling across the deck in a tangled heap of limbs, fists, and furious curses. They rolled, grappling and striking, both locked in a struggle over the amulet.
I remained comfortably seated, swirling the wine in my glass, watching the chaos unfold. The rest of the crew finally noticed and rushed in, dragging the two apart. Even from a distance, it was clear: Rafael had the heart of a fighter, but the sailor — this one was trained. If it hadn’t been for the ice, Rafael might’ve lost the amulet right there.
I made a mental note: Rafael would need proper combat training. The next thief would be stronger, smarter — and far less sloppy.
“What the hell’s gotten into you two?!” a burly sailor barked, his thick arms holding Rafael back while another pair restrained the noble-looking man. “We just survived the elves and now you’re trying to kill each other?”
The nobleman’s face twisted with anger, spittle flying as he shouted back.
“He must hand over the amulet! It belongs to the king and queen! If he refuses, he endangers all our lives and breaks the contract with the Crown — they paid for this ship!”
Ah, politics. Always the same song and dance. This was a conversation I couldn’t allow to spiral out of control. One wrong word, and the entire crew might learn too much about me, about the amulet, about everything. That wasn’t a risk I intended to take.
Feigning obedience, I spoke with mock humility.
“Forgive me, Master. I must’ve been a little... distracted.”
With a sigh, I turned toward a woman who had, during the scuffle, clocked the sailor square in the jaw. I offered her my platter of bread and dry-aged meat, still holding the wine securely in my other hand.
“Would you mind holding this for a moment?” I asked, my tone smooth and pleasant. No force in the world — not even this little drama — was going to separate me from my wine. Not even for a second.
“So, Master, what shall I do with the traitor?” I asked, my voice calm as I materialized behind the would-be thief. Without waiting for an answer, I grabbed him by the neck as if handling a misbehaving child, casually shoving the two sailors who had been restraining him aside like they were nothing more than paper dolls.
Rafael’s face flickered with surprise, but I watched the realization dawn on him as his expression sharpened into something more composed. He straightened his back, the weight of command settling onto his shoulders like a cloak.
“Shackle him. Lock him away somewhere he can’t harm anyone,” Rafael ordered, his voice steadier than I expected, with a tone that almost — almost — fit a leader.
That, of course, was not the answer I had been hoping for. My fingers itched to disregard the order entirely, to simply toss the fool overboard and watch the sea claim him, but... it was wiser to play along. At least for now. There was still plenty of time for education — and execution — later.
Of course, using something as mundane as a rope would have been utterly beneath me. A binding so dull would score a zero out of ten on the style scale. Instead, I reached out with my will, commanding the saltwater sloshing against the hull. A moment later, a torrent rose up like a living creature, wrapping around the traitor in a shimmering dome. For an instant, it looked as if he stood inside an oversized aquarium, suspended in liquid stasis.
Then, with the flick of a single finger, the water froze solid.
Everything — except his head — was entombed in glistening ice, locking him in place. Another casual gesture sent the icebound prisoner sliding across the deck, scraping and bumping along the planks like a stone skipping across a frozen lake, until gravity and stairs took over, and the block tumbled below deck with an almost musical rhythm.
Bump. Bump. Crack. Ouch.
The entire crew stood frozen in place, staring at me with wide eyes, their faces painted with a cocktail of awe and dread.
I strolled over to the woman who, just moments before, had punched the sailor square in the jaw. With a gracious nod, I retrieved the platter from her hands.
“My thanks,” I said smoothly, before vanishing with a soft shimmer and reappearing atop the deck once more, returning to my former post. I stretched my limbs lazily, sinking back into my comfortable position.
Ah, back where I belong, I thought, taking another bite of bread as if nothing had happened.
A few paces away, one of the sailors finally broke the silence, turning toward Rafael with furrowed brows. “So... what now? What was that about? Are you going to become king or something?”
I couldn’t suppress a smirk as I watched Rafael shift uncomfortably, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. Nervousness radiated from him like heat from a forge. The crew’s expectant eyes were fixed on him, every man and woman waiting for a declaration, for a decision, for a future. I could almost hear the whispered hopes among them.
Some wanted Rafael to command me — specifically, to order me to conjure a feast like the one I had so publicly enjoyed. Poor fools. They hadn’t yet explored the lower decks. They probably assumed I had magicked the food into existence, as if I were some divine chef.
That level of creation, I mused, was indeed within the domain of gods and archangels. I had seen the angel use such magic during our battle — weaving objects from raw aether as though sculpting from clay. Technically, I should have that potential too. After all, the amulet binding my soul had been forged from both archangelic and archdemonic power. A paradox, born of desperate cooperation, that had sealed me away for eternity.
Of course, the moment their alliance had secured my defeat, they had turned on each other like rabid wolves. Typical.
A soft chuckle escaped my lips. I’d attempt to create something grand later, once I had the time to properly experiment. Mastering such power would likely take centuries, especially since the angels had existed long before me, and even they wielded such abilities sparingly.
Meanwhile, Rafael finally mustered the courage to speak, informing the crew that they wouldn’t be sailing to the capital after all. Instead, their course was set for the second largest city in the kingdom — a place that, as luck would have it, also housed a reputable magical academy.
Now that was a twist. If Rafael believed his troubles were over, he was sorely mistaken. Once word of the amulet spread, trained aether wielders would be hunting him before the ink on his ship’s log had dried.
I sipped my wine, amused, as the sails began to unfurl and the ship shifted with the wind. Our destination was set.
Mardik.
Comments
Jaden Smith
Thanks for the chapter
Jennifer Leigh
Not related, just a personal annoyance. It would be great if Patreon could get it's faulty auto hyperlink issue under control.
Jennifer Leigh
The chapter repeats itself almost from the beginning. "Branwick.matter. I doubted many of the elves would die from the fall."
