His old position was that of privateer captain doing the easily denied job of making sure the other nations knew that Tynan Weir controlled the seas. If only that fool of a noble hadn't-
Wolfe looked up, memory fading away as his current reality reasserted itself. There was a man in front of his cell resting an iron club against one of the bars. In his other hand was a ring with many keys that reflected the light of the-
"We're 'ere, Cap'n." he taunted in a rough voice
Wolfe glared at him for a moment before he stood. His joints popped and cracked as he rose to his feet. He realized he must truly look pathetic, he was swimming in his coat.
His face contorted briefly to a grimace and then went back to a smirk. He knew he was in control here.
"I guess it wouldn't, would it." Wolfe walked over to the door "Let's get this over with." he presented his wrists to be cuffed.
Wolfe kept his face neutral, but bit down on the inside of his lip. "Cuff me and get on with it."
"Right this way, sir." he said then laughed before taking the lead.
Wolfe kept pace as the two of them passed many empty cells-
"Belongings for Abram Wolfe and Willie Anders." he said as he set it down on the small lifeboat
The Jailor turned to Wolfe and whispered "It is a small world, ain't it?"
Anders and Wolfe stared at each other for a moment before getting on the tiny vessel. It creaked as they got in, but otherwise seemed water-tight.
"Row! Or we shoot you ourselves!" yelled the Jailor over the side of the prison ship
Anders continued to row without saying a word, Wolfe returned the gesture. The water here was thick and seemed to pull at their oars.
Anders choked and sputtered as Wolfe glanced inside the chest. Within were his own belongings and several of Anders' trophies. He lifted a foot and pressed down-
"Should have done this when I first met you." he mumbled
Anders, as withered as he was, was still so heavy. Wolfe struggled to roll him off the vessel.
"Still good, guess it's shore leave for me" he said and began to walk inland.
Wolfe fumbled for his flask and took another sip, the smooth burn of Tynan Weir fire brandy was a welcome feeling.
These creatures didn't seem to fear humans, that was odd, but he didn't have much energy to devote to that as he became more aware of the gnawing hunger his adrenaline had been suppressing.
He set down his kill and surveyed the area. While he wasn't a skilled tracker something seemed very off here. The fire had been quenched with dirt and would be very easy to restart. There was-
In his dreams he was back in Tynan Weir, he was home in his office at the Admiralty, alone.
"The Tir, certainly earned its reputation well." he spat.
It was day, he was face down in the dirt. Behind him the smoldering remains of the the horror.
"What in all the hells is happening here?" he stammered
"Nothing, not a damn drop." Wolfe closed his flask and jammed it back into his coat
"Damn it." He muttered and began walking again