As the sun laid its head to rest, the ever-present moon had just begun pressing itself against the firmament. That canvased dome offered a kaleidoscope of colors as the flames of the sun seemed to stretch across the sky. The first of many tiny, twinkling orbs had appeared, and soon, the world would be awash in the thick darkness of night. 

Emilio made Epu, the Incan hunter turned explorer, his weaponsmaster. He was to keep a careful eye on the gun room and the ring of keys he inherited. Epu was a master tracker and an expert in everything subterfuge; no one would get to the expensive, rare, weaponry they had aboard while Epu still drew breath, Emilio knew that. Comstock was a fierce swordsman with reputable experience. He was also a brilliant navyman and marine, Emilio knew that. In fact, the Dread pirate was, undoubtedly, happy to have such trusted men with him for this adventure. This was the sort of journey from which sprung life-changing events, and which carefully veiled unpredictable dilemmas. Having devoted friends, with seemingly inhuman skills, was an advantage not worth giving up in such situations. That perhaps was Emilio’s greatest strength, his uncanny ability to sniff out talented people, and use them to their greatest potential. No matter how selfish this skill was, it was invaluable in not only protecting himself, but everyone else on-board, as well. This was the very definition of a great leader. 

The Burned Bitch was ready to set sail. All resources were as secure as could be, most positions were assigned, and everyone seemed comfortable with the look newly sanded wood, and feel of the gentle rocking of the sturdy vessel. Luna was standing aboard but close enough to the docking ramp to leave any moment. When he eyed Emilio he waved him over. The Dread captain gently pushed his way through the bustling crowd, which had grown since word of the departure had spread, and to the snobbish nobleman. 

“Yes, Lordling Luna, what can I do for you before you prance off my ship?” 

“I won’t indulge your disrespect, Cicatrise,” Luna responded coldly, and in a hushed tone; a pitch which seemed to mingle with the washing waves underfoot. “I trust you understand your mission. I trust you understand your culpability.”

“Trust me, Ceasar,” Emilio began, in a quiet voice which was too unprofessionally casual for Luna’s liking. “I am fully culpable, and utterly indulged by my crew. Your supervision is no longer required.”

“Yes,” Luna eyed the growing crowed with a complacent smugness, “even so, you’ll notice, sooner or later, that I have an agent implanted here. Don’t bother discarding her, she is a present from the papacy.” Those last words, which Luna spoke with such distain and venom that it was nearly palpable, struck Emilio dumb. He could not believe that scoundrels like Luna, even as dimly as he has thus displayed, were also involved in this mystical plot. How was this kept from the common folk? How far did it go? 

Emilio gulped the lump which had formed in his throat and nodded, his exterior remaining composed. “Very well then, I’ll see to it that my mission is carried out. But rest assured, Luna, I will find your agent…”

Luna interrupted, “Of that I’m sure…” 

Emilio, feeling disgraced, grabbed at Luna’s hip, drove his thumb into his skinny bone and pushed him against the railing. Luna gasped in pain, stared at Emilio wild eyed.

“And if she tries to sabotage me in any way, I [i]will[/i] kill her. Whether she be mystical or otherwise. And if I learn it has anything to do with you, I will see to your disemboweling personally.” Emilio let loose of the frail nobleman’s frame, stepped back. A table was next to him, a crate had just been set upon it. It was filled with bottles of wine. Not the usual ceremonial drink for such an occasion but Emilio felt the rush of his own bravado, Luna [i]would[/i] fear him. He grabbed one by the neck and walked closer to Luna and the railing. “You should tell the [i]Alcalde[/i] that he may have me by the balls for now, but things change after an adventure like this. I may come back a changed man.” Emilio smashed the bottle about a foot from Luna’s face, against the rail behind him. His face was undamaged but glass got all over his clothes and it frightened him half to death. Emilio chuckled as he faced the crowed, whose attention he’d gained since smashing the bottle. “The Bitch is setting sail!” He yelled above the crowd. Some gave some hoot’s and hollers. Leonard Comstock had made himself the boatswain, with Emilio’s blessing, so he began giving orders. Raise the anchor, cast the sails, all hands on deck and all that. Once the anchor was aweigh and the wind lifted the boat into the ocean, Emilio truly felt the freedom he’d been hoping for. He looked back to see Luna’s thin frame set along the crowd behind him waving at the departing vessel. Emilio disregarded any thoughts he began having about the man, [i]what was he really capable of?[/i]

The ship tore along the blue green water and cast along the stony pillars of the cliff to the east. Sintra palace shrunk in the distance as the strong winds carried them out of the small alcove, away from [i]praia das maçãs[/i], and finally into the Atlantic. The sky was turning a dark purple now so Emilio ordered a cabin boy to light some torches and lamps. Emilio had made sure that for the departure there would be fruit and bread along with some wine in order to raise moral; to allow people to eat, and drink, and be merry, for a while at least. Soon they’d have to start rationing more, but Emilio was lucky enough to convince the powers that be to give him extra supplies; particularly on account of him and his crew most likely risking their lives. Emilio went to fetch a tangerine along with a roll. He ripped the tangerine apart with a dagger he kept in his boot and began eating it. He watched some men play a card game, one with which he was not totally familiar, as the boat finally began the journey toward Morocco.