<div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/4e/SaerraChristoph.jpg)</div>Port Diablo, evening tide rolling in as if all the world is sea and all land but mockery of this. Of course the pirates like to think that’s how the world is, but to Christoph le Croix, heir to nothing but that of his own making, the sea is a curse he can make money over. Over the backs and bones of those who matter less than the mosquito he just swatted aside. Money, after all, would be what the world would be. It speaks every language and buys everything one could possibly desire. Even position and standing.<br/><br/>Still wondering why on God’s green earth he’d be in the Devil’s port to board the ship he has invested in, Chris wanders the town that is growing increasingly more busy. He could have been in England. He could even had been in France, for all he cared. But he just had to find out how the ship was doing and it if it would sail well under the new captain. If it did not, he would no longer find it an interesting vessel to invest in and.. he’d probably have to consider financing the Royal English Navy. Or the Dutch.<br/>The Dutch were nice, not all too bothered with trivial matters such as honour and what not, but going for coin alone. A lot like him, really, if you thought about it. Though he’d not seriously invest into slavery. More because the goods would always be damaged upon arrival which would make his name of less standing in the circles he liked to roam.<br/><br/>‘The Dirty Secret’ He didn’t even know if the ship was already in Port Diablo. He could check and board, get out of the town, but something was still holding him back. A slight nuisance. A feeling of restlessness.<br/>For now, he would keep wandering, perhaps even find what was attempting to address him from deep in his mind. Or his heart.. if he had one. Or his soul.<br/>No.<br/>That was ridiculous. He had no soul.