Dragging the small boat onto the beach, Wheel helped Hanabaptiste off the boat. She was probably useless in a fight, but if she could stir up a wind, she could have some other tricks up her sleeve. He took her soft hand in his roughly, helping her more like an unsteady warrior than a lady and a student. He strode up the beach, keeping his grasp on her hand as she tripped and stumbled, trying to adapt again to solid ground. Unlike Berlin, he already knew what had happened. The place reeked of violence, sharp and hot and salty. It had gone stale, though. The only thing still fresh here was the fear. 

"Come on. Let's inspect the town." Wheel didn't wait for Hanabaptiste to reply, and he vanished in the streets of the town. 

Glancing back at the Captain, she saw that he was talking in a hushed tone to Rio. Shrugging, Hana turned and hurried after Wheel.

--- 

The buildings here were one and two stories, most built out of wood. They had been well constructed, and what they lacked in ornamentation they made up for with the attention that had been paid to the maintenance. Garden boxes bloomed with flowers, and small devotional statues lined the streets, each one commemorating an ancestor, friendly spirits of long ago loved ones helping the townspeople and giving them hope. Many of the statues she saw were smashed or knocked over, either from intentional vandalism or from people fleeing in haste, she couldn't tell. Clothes and household belongings littered the street, garters, smashed glass, sandals and wicker furniture thrown into the street, the aftermath of violence. Hana covered her mouth as she passed the body of a mule, crossbow bolts sticking out of it like a pin cushion, flies buzzing hungrily. Houses had been torched without any seeming reason, some homes looked completely untouched except for a broken window, others had been vandalized and set ablaze. She saw a slumped figure lying next to a flower box. Approaching with trepidation, the world seemed to collapse, until all that existed in the entire universe was her and the body. Every step began to reveal the horrible truth, and she wanted to turn and run and look away and go back to the Captain and go back to the boat but she was already there and she saw and

It was a young man. He had dark curls and was likely a fisherman. His, it's, his face had been subject to terrible violence. Hana fled, desperate to get away. But the violence was all around. Were they still here? Watching her from the shadows? In her panic, she didn't hear her name called. She was shocked into reality when she felt thick arms wrap around her midsection. 

"NO!" She reacted without thought, reaching for the closest thing she could take hold of. The air around her sheared off into heated steam, flying away from her. Buffeted by the shock, Hana was thrown to the ground. The hard packed dirt struck her back and the wind was knocked out of her. Struggling for breath, she rolled onto her side, heart thudding. 

"hey." 

Hana rolled onto her back again, a few desperate gasps making it's way through the fog in her brain. 

"HEY! I'M FUCKING TALKING TO YOU!"

Wheel stood above her, his face twisted in rage. His skin had peeled off, and she could see patches of too pink that made her nervous and that she avoided looking at. So she look at his hand, which he lowered to offer to help her up. He did this while still berating her, giving a step by step detail of just how she had fucked up, and that her failures could lead to the destruction of the ship and the death of everyone aboard. His voice was a steady monologue, occasionally interrupted with a bout of yelling, going red in the face, spittle flying from his mouth as he carefully rolled Hana's foot, testing if it had been damaged after she set the air around her up, sending gouts of steam everywhere. On reflection, it seemed that she had now discovered what battle magic she would be able to rely on in a fight. Sure, she could study books and books of strategy, but every bit of that knowledge would go out her head when someone grabbed her around the stomach. She could rely on steam. That was good to know. Wheel fell silent and calmly drew a pistol from his sash, holding it at his side without readying it. 

"Can you repeat what you did earlier?"

Hana stopped moving, letting Wheel step past her. She nodded, then realizing he couldn't see her, said, "Aye. I can direct it, but I don't know what the results will be."

Hana, in her panic, had led them to the small main square. The small courthouse seemed almost diminutive next to the church and it's sturdy bell tower. Wheel stood before it now, feet planted. One hand rested on his hip, the other casually held the pistol at the ready.

"One step further and twenty crossbow bolts go through you! Leave."

A man stood on the roof of the tall beamed church. It was clearly the pride of the village, and the austere but artful masonry on the ground floor became clean planks of wood for the second, painted a gleaming white. And, standing and yes, holding a crossbow pointed directly at Wheel, was a gaunt man with tired brown eyes and greying hair. And beside him were several other men, all holding crossbows. The villagers. Some of them must have taken refuge in the church. Why it hadn't been attacked wasn't certain. But it had survived! And now they were pointing crossbows at them, so Hana guessed they weren't being greeted as liberators. 

"One of you go find your Captain, tell him we have a member of his crew captured."

The other guards exclaimed and began to talk among one another in hushed tones. 

"Quiet! One of you, go!"

Wheel and Hanabaptiste exchanged glances. Hana's eyes were wide, but Wheel saw that she was thinking, evaluating. 

"I'll go get Berlin. Don't do anything, okay?"

Wheel smiled instead of answering. 

Cursing under her breath, Hana turned and ran towards the beach and the Captain.