Bargain

The Master of Materialization had been a recurring customer of the Captain’s services for decades, yet their exchanges always carried a peculiar tension. From the top of the Giant Red Walker’s head, under the dim, shifting hues of a Night Day, their conversation took a strange turn.

“I hear you’re the best Captain alive. Is that true?” the Master asked, his voice smooth, almost mocking.

The Captain barely glanced at him, his tone dismissive. “That’s just talk.”

“I hear you can navigate any kind of beast,” the Master continued, undeterred.

The Captain crossed his arms, gaze fixed on the horizon. “Red Walkers, Feathered Mountains. Big or small, grounded or flying—it’s all the same in theory. But now, this is my ship.” He patted the Red Walker’s fur with a faint smile. “And I’ll likely be her last Captain. She’s been our home for 1,600 years. I’m not leaving anytime soon.”

The Master leaned forward, his tone growing sly. “How about… Giant People-Eaters?”

The Captain’s head snapped toward him, his expression hardening. “Blasphemy! You must be mad! What exactly are you planning?”

The Master’s lips curled at the edges, his tone still light but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. “I simply like to know what is possible,” he mused. “And I am a man who finds… possibilities.”

The Captain exhaled sharply. “You’re playing with fire.”

The Master’s gaze remained steady, unbothered. “I’ve made a habit of it,” he murmured. “And I always find a way, Captain. Doors open for me, even the locked ones.”

For the first time, the Captain felt something press against him—not physically, but as if the very space around the Master bent to his presence. The air felt heavier, charged with an unnatural stillness. He ignored it, but the unease lingered, refusing to leave.

The Master stepped closer, his shadow stretching unnaturally in the dim light. “You see, Captain, I don’t just open doors. I rewrite the locks.” His grin widened, his confidence unshaken. “I’m a very wealthy and powerful man, Captain. Wouldn’t it be nice if obstacles simply… vanished?”

The Captain’s lip curled. “You’re sick. I don’t need your money or your tricks,” he spat. He could feel a whisper of doubt coil in his chest, but he crushed it. “I have all I need right here—my home, my crew, my daughter, my family. Everything. A true Captain never leaves his ship.”

The Master’s smile faltered for a moment, but his unsettling presence only grew stronger. The air around them seemed to ripple, as if reality itself hesitated in his presence. His eyes gleamed with something dark, something the Captain felt but refused to acknowledge.

“I always get what I want,” the Master said softly, almost a whisper. “And I always find a way, Captain. Don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”