With his last trip to a realm beyond Greece been quite awhile ago, Kreios was all but ready to go once the funeral of the Athenian king had been concluded. He had visited the desert realm three or four months ago to stock up on herbs and other matters he could not grow nor find within the temperate climate of the islands he grew up with. With his range of clients, Kreios needed to satisfy many, and as such made it his business to travel to as many places as he could aboard the Azazel in order to procure a wide variety of herbs, both to sell, and to make his many vials that he kept with strict precision.

But the past few months within the Grecian isle's had been busy. What with storms, sharks and the occasional deadly festival by the Taengeans, he had eventually found his supply depleting, and finally decided he had to make his long delayed trip to Africa.

The evening of the funeral itself saw Kreios lounging on the deck of his black ship, as the Captain instructed the remainder of the items loaded on to the cargo vessel. Captain Garvey was a reliable man, someone Kreios had hired years ago when he had first commissioned for his ship to be built. The vessel was a large cargo ship, with many oars beneath for slaves to row. Considered a luxurious trade ship as compared to many other merchants, it is sleek and speedy with added sails above for more speed - something Kreios required, an impatient man who refused to travel or wait for more than was necessary. Many other merchants who had came upon his ship had whispered on how unnecessary luxurious he had made his ship - but Kreios didn't care. As a merchant who did not bother with the judgement or opinions of others, they literally passed off the top of his head as he proceeded to instruct his whole constructed ship to be painted black, resulting in it looking like a dark silhouette, a sea creature emerging in the dark especially at night.

Captain Garvey had been hesitant at first to join his crew - but to Kreios, nothing couldn't be bought without a little cash, and he could see the young captain's potential. A first-mate aspiring to have his own ship, Kreios offered an offer just as good. Captain the ship, and Kreios will foot the bill of upkeeping the vessel - as long as Garvey followed all of his instructions. And follow he did. Over the years, the captain had turned out to be a great servant who rarely questioned Kreios's ways and methods and unconventional travelling times. He performed as he was required, and kept the ship running as the owner would recede to his private quarters beneath the ship to either work in his larger, shelf-filled cabinet room, or remain in his private quarters where his bed was situated. It was these sorts of people that Kreios worked best with, those who questioned the least.

When the Captain finally gave the dark-haired male the 'okay' sign to take off, the merchant merely nodded and pushed off the railing which he had been leaning on, and strode towards the bow of the ship. The salt-infused breeze mussed up his dark locks as the ramp was retracted, and before long, the cries of sailors and cabin boys alike could be heard as Garvey took the wheel and the Azazel set sail, on a trip that would take them almost 2 weeks before they arrived at the port of Israel.

”It’s been awhile since we’ve had such a long journey, Master Kreios.” Descat murmured. The small, mousy haired boy was a cabin boy who seemed to somehow have fallen into the role of being Kreios’s personal cabin boy and servant. Not that Kreios minded. Each time he entered port and had to go down to land to meet his clients and handle his wares or his poison garden, he would require a few cabin boys who would follow him around, and for now, Descat was one of them. He did not like to bother himself with running back and forth to the ship for anything he would need, so having the cabin boys follow him around took care of that little issue. And much like Garvey, Descat was eager to please… which isn’t surprising, since Descat happened to be Garvey’s nephew, and it was the captain who asked for his nephew to be hired by the merchant. While Kreios did not keep Descat as a slave, the boy seemed to have taken a shine to calling Kreios his ‘master’... and the man did not mind.

”You’ll have to get used to it, boy. The journey back would be twice as long. And we’ll be spending some time there, since it’ll take us that long at sea.” he replied in his usual, deadpan tone. The black tunic he wore was thin, and to some it may be chilly, but to Kreios, it was perfect. He enjoyed feeling the breeze on his skin, his dark eyes squinting slightly when the water would splash, but the merchant otherwise did not move a muscle. While he spent much of his time below deck, one would be surprised to learn that Kreios actually enjoyed the salty tang of the sea. ”Did you clear the galley?”

Descat nodded. ”Halfway done, Master. It should be finished by the end of the week.”

”Perfect. I’ll need it for whatever we bring back. We’ll be arriving in Israel first, but I’ll need to visit Egypt as well.”

”Does uncle know?”

Kreios nodded, but when the merchant offered no other words, Descat was quick to take it as his cue to leave, and backed off as the twilight came to take over Apollo’s reign in the sky. That brief moment of time when Apollo met Astraeus, just before the goddess Selene would take over from Apollo’s job. When stars came out to play, and the skies were stained with purple and gold, and that one brief moment in time when everything seemed to be at peace. Occasionally, Kreios couldn’t help but wonder if there was a reason why twilight was when people stopped work, or chose to return home to their families. Did the time of the day connotate some form of peace and joy? Or was it simply because it was turning dark?

Matters that he did not linger long on anyway. He was a lone man, who did not bother with the thoughts or opinions of others. Unlike others who sought for a life partner, someone to share their thoughts with… Kreios was not one who shared thoughts. Even past thirty, he had yet to have someone he would call a friend, or even a close acquaintance, but yet to many’s surprise, Kreios was not bothered. He simply thought words were a waste of time, and action spoke much louder than word of mouth. It was perhaps why his servants, slaves and members of his crew aboard his ship would describe him as a man of few words. He was a top class merchant, who delivered what his clients requested, and has amassed a fortune from selling wares not many others were willing to dabble in. But he was not a man of words.

As twilight dissolved to fully give way to the night, only then did Kreios turn on his heels to make his way back to his quarters. His orders were for his evening meal to be delivered to his private rooms whilst he worked, having had the last batch of hemlock brought to his working room. The remainder of the evening was where he spent grinding the leaves of the dried plant, extracting its oils and further adding other items to it, before bottling them in various vials and storing them in the small, square cabinets he had installed in the room he worked in. With the tipping and swaying of the ship, Kreios was adamant about ensuring each square space was filled to brim, and if not, the remaining vials would be wrapped in cloth and bound up, before the cabinets were locked so no vials would be broken. With the poisons he dabbled in, any broken bottle could prove deadly to anyone, even simply cleaning it up, so he would rather not risk it.

Luckily for the man, the two-week journey would be a pleasant one. With the Boreas storm just two months behind them, Garvey had been understandably hesitant when they set sail, and had asked for the crew to take extra precautions should the Gods be angered again, and decide to lash out against their vessel. As such, at any given time Kreios went on deck, he would see any number of cabin boys and crew members on duty, with Garvey always on the watch, and rarely off the wheel except at times when he needed to get his sleep. Not that Kreios was worried. After the years he had spent with the captain at the helm of his ship, the dark-haired male had learnt not to bother when he was working, and neither did he need any form of micromanaging. Instead, he contented himself with either working to stock up his number of vials with the remaining plants and shoots he had brought along with them when they swung by his garden in Taengea.

Over the course of the journey, he could be found either below deck, or standing at the helm. Rare was it a cause for Kreios to chatter with anyone, and even Garvey likely exchanged a maximum of two sentences with the owner of the ship, before Kreios proceeded to clam up again. If one was lucky, they’d be able to catch Kreios on the railing of the ship. Over the years, he had found himself quite adept at the art of fishing, even if to get some fresh meat, for Kreios did get sick of the cured meat they had to stock as victuals over the course of the journey. While they had live poultry on board, the cook rarely slaughtered the birds until the end of the journey, and the male simply could not survive on salted meat for the extent of two weeks. As such, he had taught himself the art of using a net, especially when Garvey lowered anchor for a period of time to fix any issues and get back up to speed.

Despite all the sailors and crew members being weathered seamen however, by the time they reached the port of Israel, everyone aboard the ship could not be happier to see land, for two weeks on a floating vessel was a little more than a regular man or woman could handle, and all of the crew aboard the Azazel was itching to get back on land. Lewd comments and laughter could be heard as the sailors jostled each other whilst standing on deck, awaiting for Garvey to steer them in port - but as usual, Kreios stood off by the side. The crew members of the Azazel knew better then to disturb him, for the large amount of coin Kreios paid them also included them not disturbing him with nonsensical words, stuff and nonsense he had no interest in.

With Garvey by his side, his dark eyes observed the bustle of the Israel port, a place where most Grecian ships would make port whenever they travelled to Africa. This was not Kreios’s first time there, but neither did he visit very often, not with the amount of time he’d have to take each trip, two weeks in which no form of earnings could be made. Each time Kreios commanded a journey to Africa, Garvey would know he either had a large order by a client, or that he needed to restock - whichever it was, as the astute businessman and money monger that he was, Kreios always ensured that whatever journey he took, there was an appropriate output at the end

”How long will we be staying, sir?” Garvey asked, eager to know so he could make preparations around the time period in which Kreios would wish to return to the Grecian isles.

”We’ll see. I intend to take a trip to Egypt upon concluding my business here, so prepare for that…. A week hence from today.” he replied, his answer succint and clear. A man of business, it was to no one’s surprise that Kreios would launch straight to work. With Descat at his beck and call, and half a dozen slave boys following after him, the moment the ship docked, the merchant grabbed the rucksack he had, and without even motioning (for he assumed they would follow, and rightly so), the man made his way off the ramp, and disappeared into the markets of Israel, and its bustling populace. Unlike Greece, or any of the docks they would arrive in within their home kingdom, the people of Israel were a different sort. Used as they were to the arrival of Grecians, for its location on the coast of the Aegean Sea made it an entry point for many foreign ships, they were still not entirely trusting of those across the sea, and as such, Kreios dealt with them at a much more careful pace, as compared to the succinct way in which he spoke to his countrymen in business.

Over the course of the week, the man would make his rounds across Israel’s markets and souk’s, procuring as much as he would sell, for there were many forms of herbs he grew in his garden that could not grow in the arid desert of the African kingdom, which some of the physicians and herb specialists would like. A barter trade of sorts, Kreios would send his slave boys back each time he procured enough to fill up a sack. Henbane was something the dark-haired male sought in particular, for he would need it to combine with hemlock and the belladonna he had in stock, whilst the mandrake plant was something he was seeking. The man wondered if he was able to cultivate it back in Taengea, and this time he had come with a shallow amphora he wanted to store a live mandrake plant to bring back to his garden in Phossis, if only to see if he would succeed.

Procuring the plant however, was easier said than done. It took Kreios almost three days and to travel all the way to the furthest souk of the city, before he found a merchant willing to sell him a half-grown mandrake plant. Granted, he was warned that the plant was unlikely to survive the journey, but Kreios did not make it known that he had ample water on the ship, intending to fully bring the mandrake home. The plant was but a year old, but with another year, the merchant who sold it warned Kreios in broken Grecian that if he managed to, the plant can be transplanted to soil after another year, whereby it would sure to grow and he would then be able to propagate it.

Along the week, the merchant also found himself venturing further, as he procured more clients. He would return to the Azazel nightly, for he found no point in seeking residence in a town inn when he had perfectly functional quarters on board, and was also used to sleeping on a swaying surface. Unless a storm threatened, Kreios rarely slept elsewhere unless they were docked in Taengea, and even then, he returned to his home cottage purely due to the need to tend to his little garden at home. Besides, most of the crew members preferred staying on land using their coin, which gave Kreios the precious peace he so craved, being alone on deck.

”Tis seeming to be a great amount of items you are procuring to return home with this time, Master Kreios.” Garvey had commented one evening, as he had met the Captain on his return back to the ship after an evening meal in a tavern. Kreios had smirked, but nodded. He had warned his crew members he intended this trip to be a very fulfilling and rewarding one, and it was indeed so. On top of the mandrake plant which he had now placed in his working quarters, he had also managed to procure a small henbane sapling which, while he was unsure would survive in the temperate climates of Greece, Kreios was willing to try.

Perhaps one of his most interesting procurements however, had to be a hound he managed to get in return for… assisting, a man of Israelian-birth. Kreios had had no intention of helping, for the man seemed to not have the coin he usually charged for providing a cure for a known ailment. But it was his new addition to his life that had Kreios changing his mind - a large, blue-gray hound that he had christened Typhon. While not at all old, Typhon was large for his age of eight months, but had a calm disposition that was what Kreios had wanted, on top of being a hulking presence next to him. Garvey and the crew members had been less than pleased the first time they saw Typhon, and the dog himself would take a few weeks yet to gain his sea legs, but Kreios was planning on ensuring the canine would do well in guarding his work area whenever he was away, on top of being an added advantage of intimidating his more difficult clients if the situation called for it, so he considered it a good barter trade for a few vials of fennel powder and a large vial of almond oil.

The last few days of the week therefore, had been spent watching over his new addition in his life. Luckily for Kreios, the teenage-hood canine seemed to have taken after Kreios’s attitude and learned from his new master, for Typhon was sedate and quiet, unlike regular puppies of his age. Only a few days of hand feeding the hound had the shaggy creature dogging Kreios’s steps wherever he went. The crew members were still wary around him, for Typhon’s beady dark eyes followed them whenever he laid at his master’s feet, but other then Kreios, he bothered little else, so he was tolerated on board. Surprisingly for the crew members of the Azazel (but not for Kreios, for he entirely intended it that way), Typhon took a little less than few days before he learned to start growling each time someone other than Kreios or Descat approached the mandrake and henbane plants he had placed in his working quarters.

By the time the end of the week loomed, enough gold coin and goods had exchanged hands between Kreios and all his clients and customers alike for him to feel satisfied at a week’s worth of hard work. Thus when Garvey had asked Kreios the night before over an evening meal of roasted quail, roasted flatbread and wine (a liquid he missed, for nothing produced by Judea would compare to the beautiful liquid he's had from his birth kingdom), he had merely nodded his consent for the ship to be prepared to depart from the Isreal dock, to head to Egyptian waters.

Familiar with the ways in which Garvey and the crew prepared his black ship for sail whenever the time called for it, Kreios was up bright and early the next morning, partaking in a simple meal of grains and olive oil washed down with goat's milk before he secured all his belongings. Warning Descat that at least one slave boy had to be down in his working quarters at any one time whenever the ship was on sail to ensure none of his precious plants were tipped over, Kreios double checked all the locks of the cupboards that sealed the spaces which held his vials tight. Only once he had ensured everything that gave him a livelihood was secure, did the man slip out from his regular tunic to the black simlah he wore over the kethoneth he had on beneath.

While Kreios much preferred his Grecian garbs, or pants and tunics, he had found the African realm easier to deal with when he was garbed as they regularly were. As such, the man had his own chest of clothing which he pulled out whenever the sailed into African waters. Changing his regular Grecian sandals for the na'alayim made of leather around his ankles, only then did the black haired male clicked his tongue at Typhon, leading the hound to deck where it was, as expected, busy with preparations.

"Stay by me, Typhone. Tis a busy time, so stay out of people's way as they prepare for the ship to move." he murmured. Perhaps if others heard, they would scoff, for how would a hound understand the words of a man? Yet it would come as a surprise to many that the hound was surprisingly obedient, and kept pressed against his legs as he strode across the deck to check if all was on time for Garvey's schedule. Once the captain of his vessel confirmed such a thing, the male easily found his way across the deck, across the ramp to supervise the remainder of his wares being transferred to the secured holding area beneath the galley by the slaves he hired. His words were sharp as he warned them to be careful, for much of his wares were fragile, especially if they were dried plants which he planned on working on once the ship was on a steady path to Egypt.

The men of the Azazel crew streamed all around, from checking the security of the wares lashed on deck, to inspecting the solidity of the ship so as to ensure nothing untoward would happen even if another storm were to hit them on their voyage. He trusted the men to their work, for all of them had worked for him for years, with nothing horrible happening yet. But Kreios was a man who watched more then he did anything, and observe he did.

With arms crossed across his simlah, the dry breeze rustling the fabric occasionally, his dark eyes would watch as the sailors worked under Garvey's command and his watchful gaze. Despite being glad at docking just a week prior, all of the sailors were now just as eager to return to sea, for whether or not they like it, these were all seamen by blood. Too long on solid ground made them yearn for the rolling, swaying feel of a ship on sea beneath them, and it was clear upon their faces as they worked, that they were keen to return to sea, even if the voyage to Egypt would take them all of a few days. Perhaps once they set sail to return to Greece, his sailors may hanker to return to land again, for two weeks was a long time at sea, but for now, none of them complained as they worked, eager to set sail before the sun touched the other end of the horizon.

But of course, eagerness often led to carelessness

When the sound of a crashing box reached Kreios’s ears, the sharp turn of his head was nothing compared to the sharp flash of his obsidian eyes. The fear was palpable on his face when he turned to glare at the slave boy who had dropped the box containing vials of hemlock and dried belladonna leaves of a different species then the one he grew back home, specimens he intended to mix to make a new, stronger type of poison. Akin to a thundercloud, his facial features turned black as the leaves were blown away by the arid air, crushed beneath the feet of those walking, who did not have the time to care for a single leaf under their soles.

Descat jumped to action, immediately cuffing the boy who was younger then the seventeen-year old cabin boy by a good five years. At only twelve, he was infinitely smaller than others, yet if Kreios dug at his memory, he could remember that the young boy of Colchian birth which Kreios had newly procured upon his last jaunt in the Athenian slave market before his departure, had worked exceedingly hard, if not a little clumsy. A trait that wasn’t admirable… but considering his age, forgivable.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at the mess caused by the boy, who to his credit, looked appropriately embarrassed and quite scared. Descat looked ready to skin the boy alive, even as Kreios approached. ”I shall ensure he receives appropriate retribution, Master Kreios.” his cabin boy was quick to promise, always eager to ensure that the merchant was satisfied. In response however, Kreios waved his hand, causing Descat to widen his eyes in surprise at the flagrant dismissal of his promise. Kreios had, in the past, tossed sailors over the ship when they happened to accidentally hit something of value within his quarters before. How would a new slave be granted any mercy?

Yet Kreios was a fair man, who judged each instance within its context. Sailors who bumped over his items were people who have been warned to stay out of it, or if they had to enter, make sure they did not pick big, hulking, muscular man who could not control their muscles or their size. With the sheer amount of things of both high value and import within them, he could not risk breakage, and he would break the bones of anyone who enters.

But this young slave boy was learning, someone who had yet to learn the ropes, and Kreios could afford some leniency. He would, of no doubt, receive his fair share of ragging once Kreios returned below deck and Descat could lay into him, but for now, the slave boy shivered as he approached. Perhaps shouting would have allayed his fear, but Kreios never shouted. Always one who kept his composure, he rarely lost the way in which he held himself with such surety, how he had a firm, decided manner in which he did stuff. It was no difference this time.

Looking down at the shorter young slave boy, the nudged a fallen plank of the broken crate, and his tone was dry as he spoke. ”The proceeds of that will be taken out of your next pay. Clean that up.” the young boy nodded furiously, scurrying to clear the mess when Kreios spoke up again, in a tone that froze him. ”There will be no next time.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his feet, Typhon at his calves, to resume his post standing, arms crossed and feet apart, eyes observing the remainder of the cargo being secured. After witnessing the dry, almost warning way in which Kreios took the slave boy to task, the remainder of the crew men scurried in a careful manner as they finished up the securing and tying of the items on the deck, before turning to securing the vessel for he journey.

The approach of the little lady was heard and felt, more than seen, at first. Kreios had his eyes observing the Azazel, and as such his back was presented to the rest of the busy dock as everyone woke up to begin their daily duties. It was the hound resting upon his feet that growled as the curly haired female approached, scrambling to his feet. The shaggy mutt’s warning however, was enough for Kreios to turn on his feet to meet her approach, just in time as she scrambled to a stop in front of him, her query immediately making his brows furrow.

She was of obvious African descent - but of which kingdom, Kreios could not determine of one glance. Unlike the soft, wisp-like beauties he was used to in Greece however, whoever this female was, she was obviously made of harder stuff, despite her small stature. As compared to the soft spoken nature in Greece, it was obvious off first glance that the woman before him now was one who had a strong sense of confidence, something that likely came from being comfortable with herself, for despite her less then average height (at least to Kreios, for he was a fairly tall male), she still managed to come off as being six feet tall.
”No.”

His response was clearly one that did not bode for a reply from the other - he did not want one. While others may be attracted by her obviously bubbly personality and a zest for conversation, Kreios had no interest. Even in his women, he took those who was clear in the fact that he offered something with no strings, for he was a man of the wind, and did not want to leave broken hearts all around. What he took, he took to slake a desire all man had, and Kreios did not partake for any great emotion he felt. He had never, not even for his own parents, felt any form of great emotion, and in a way, perhaps that was better, for his line of business required a great deal of personal detachment.

Which was a shame, really. His dark eyes lingered a little longer on her features, its large eyes and rounded nose complimenting each other quite beautifully. Under the bright sun, Kreios was fairly sure her bronzed skin would glow, merely accentuating the lush form of her body. In a different setting, perhaps if she was of a different mindset, he would not mind partaking... but this was Africa, and he was no local. Kreios was not so stupid as to court death.

Turning away, he nudged Typhon with his knees to urge the growling hound back to the other side, so he would not cause greater harm to the girl. Still unused yet to characters and the massive amount of people in the dockside of Israel, Typhon had been antsy all day, which amused Kreios greatly, for it seemed his new hound had taken after his master's antics. "Unless you are a form of cargo which would earn me coin," he continued in a dry tone, guessing where she was going from the bright eyed way in which she lingered around the docks. "I suggest you look elsewhere. The ship's full."

His dog had, oddly, taken much after his own personality. Typhone had, in the short few days of hanging around with Kreios, taken to his master's temperment, and had grown quiet and solemn in his actions. Unlike his litter mates who had gambolled and play, this young pup of almost a year old was more sedate and proper - it was the reason why he had caught Kreios's eye after all.

Watching with a barely bemused raise of his brow as the bronzed skinned female in question's eyes suddenly zeroed in elsewhere, her sudden drop made the dark-haired male draw back in surprise at the sudden movement, not at all used to the abruptness of the girl. He looked down, only to be irritated when he finally noticed her reaching a hand out around his legs, almost brushing against him towards Typhon. Kreios hated two things - breaching of his personal space, and touching things that belong to him - and somehow this girl was managing to do both at once.

Despite Typhon's curious sniff at her though, his tail remained still and not friendly, but he was a young pup still getting to know the world. A gentle nudge from the side of Kreios's boot was enough to remain Typhon to draw back, wary dark eyes on the girl's figure even as she spoke.

Cargo? She's got to be kidding, if she even knew the definition of cargo. He snorted at her somewhat praise of herself to have profitability - Kreios doubted he would get coin out of her, for she seemed too outspoken to be a slave anyone would purchase, be it in Africa or back in Greece. "I may not be the captain, but I am the owner of the ship, and Captain Garvey is paid under my coin, so I suppose I am of use." he retorted haughtily, shifting away from her reach and simultaneously pushing Typhon away from the girl with his calf.

"However, I fail to see how you would be cargo - my cargo earns me coin. You would only be an added deadweight to my ship." As if judging her value and doubting she had much coin, even if she said she could pay her way, his eyes held clear skepticism. "I do not accept meagre payment, for my cargo earns me far more."

He was a man of few words. It was not as if he intentionally wanted to piss people off, but that was simply who Kreios was on a natural basis. He was not someone who showed any form of emotive feeling through the spoken word, and instead allowed his actions to speak louder. Perhaps, to a certain extent, that habit of his contributed to how mysterious he was, and maybe that has helped in the fact that he was well known for his capability to keep a secret, especially with the wares he carried, but whichever it was, it has worked well for him and Kreios was unlikely to change anytime soon.

But what made him a difficult person to work with, wasn't his inability to go beyond a few simple sentences in a conversation. Rather, it was Kreios's lack of patience for anyone else who spoke overly much, at least on his scale of judgement. The male had little patience for conversations and yammering, and often concluded his business dealings with his clients as soon as he could, without the need for prolonged questions and queries. That was what most of his clients wanted from him afterall.

Not this one, apparently.

Watching with shaded eyes as she stood up, the male noted with satisfaction that Typhon remained by his side, even if the hound's eyes was still curious on the girl's. Her words, even her smile, made the male wince inwardly. What did she take him for, an idiot? Of course he knew how cargo worked. But unless she fit in a small wooden crate, he wasn't entirely certain how she would classify as cargo. Of course, there was the matter of profit, in which he was certain she wasn't able to provide, ragamuffin that she was.

"Any place? I could dump you in the middle of the ocean, then." he retorted sharply, not at all bothered that he may offend her. Kreios was unlike those who wanted to please. He had no qualms of offending people if there was a reason behind it - and the reason behind this was simply that this bronzed skin female was taking up too much of his time. As his dark, obsidian eyes flickered to where the Azazel was, Garvey was standing at the edge, flashing Kreios a thumbs up as the last of his cargo was brought on and tightened in place. The faster they made a move the better. He still planned on spending a week in Egypt before they made a move back to Greece to sell his wares, and wasted time was wasted profits in his eyes.

Fully intending to just ignore the woman and leave, just as he was about to turn however, she suddenly straightened up from where she had been rummaging somewhere below (for Kreios had not been paying attention as she did). Usually one to not care for what people brought, the sun that glinted off whatever she held in between her fingers now however, made his steps slow, and turn slowly back to focus on the gem.

The small, clear jewel was not something foreign to Kreios. He received many foreign payments in jewels and precious gems, stones and rocks in which he had some knowledge in. It was enough to tell the merchant that the sapphire was rare, and completely unheard of in Greece. To be able to sell that would be a boon in Greece, but beyond that, Kreios's magpie-like nature meant that the fingers in his pockets itched to keep the pink clear gem for himself, as a trophy in his bookcase.

Onyx eyes glinted in enchanted interest, and for the first time since she had happened upon him, a crooked smile was pried out of Kreios's otherwise stoic face, as he reached out and plucked the gem out of her finger. "Deal." he murmured in return, without even looking at her. His fingers were quick to start running across the gem, interest gleaming in his gaze. Turning on his heel, he made a motion on his fingers for the girl to follow him, and turned towards the ship, where he led her up the gangplank and towards where Garvey and Descat immediately came to him, curiosity clear in his captain and slave boy's eyes.

"Descat, get the spare work-area cleared out. The sensitive materials go in my work room, the remains get placed in the galley. We have a passenger on board."

"Passenger?" they echoed simultaneously, surprise clear in their faces. Kreios had never took on a passenger before, being someone who eschewed human contact. Not at all responding to their surprise however, he merely nodded. "We set sail immediately, Captain." he murmured, and then managed to tear his gaze away to level a strict look at his new passenger. "Stay out of my work area, and my quarters. The deck is yours to roam. Do not get in the way of the men working." His warning came in a level tone, before he turned on his heel and headed belowdeck to ensure the new acquisition of his was stored carefully in a locked box beneath his quarters.