"Von Morganstern?" Markus asked the other pirates. A few shrugged, but the others that weren't busy were too busy drinking up the woman's figure or preemptively counting the gold for her supposed ransom. Markus eyed the expensive dress and the voluptuousness of the woman with a calculating gaze. He didn't doubt she was a nobleman's wife or mistress, likely the latter considering she wasn't a 'Vissendorf' herself. He chuckled at the thought of some posh jezebel going back inland and telling of her 'utterly dreadful' time amongst the pirates.

"Sure sounds like a fancy title." Frankfurt mused. 

"Titles mean little enough unless they can pay." Markus warned, speaking to the woman more than anyone.

An aging privateer approached the Captain as he surveyed the prisoners like a butcher weighing meat. Markus turned and regarded Morgan, the only man on here who seemed about as competent in common sense and Markus liked to believe he was himself. In a lot of ways, Markus looked up to the man. Morgan had even refused the captaincy, replying he was too old for a younger man's job. He merely served as quartermaster for the time being before his 'retirement' as he often called it. He gave a pat on Markus' shoulder, and the dark swordsman gave a grin. 

"Good job, lad." Morgan congratulated. "Eight barrels of spices and a few prisoners. Any valuable ones?" 

"That remains to be seen." The Captain knelt down in front of the older Estalian, a man who looked devout of any sort of happiness left. Even unbound, he had merely rubbed his wrists and had yet to move or say anything. His mustache gave him the look of a particularly sad schnauzer. The linen shirt he wore was torn, with rolled up sleeves revealing olive skin and hairy arms. 

"You know anyone on that boat?" Markus asked him. Even with the fellow's melancholy, his ire was something that most wouldn't wish to invoke, so the man replied with a nod. 

"A friend of yours die?" Again, there was a nod. Markus leaned in closer. "You know the one who killed him?" 

"Not you," the man said slowly, his riekspiel heavily accented. "the one eyed man." 

"Holdman, aye." the Captain declared. He smiled. "You can't kill him, sorry. We're on a small ship with an even smaller crew. Your friend like as not didn't put up much of a fight. But you're lucky. You have the opportunity to join our crew. You prove yourself, you can challenge Holdman and kill him rightly. Your choice." 

He didn't wait to respond, standing back up and moving to the scholar and the cook. With a few quick orders, he recruited the two on the spot. With the cutlasses of the pirates around them and Markus' dark gaze, they took no convincing. The scholar was sent below to calculate how much the spice was worth while the cook was sent to the kitchen below, both escorted by two watchful pirates. Finally, Markus arrived at the woman. As he did so, the last man leaped over the side of the [i]Poxed Whore[/i] and tossed Markus a bag of doubloons. Effortlessly, the swordsman caught it with an audible jingle of the coins. He slid his hand in and produced a gilded tilean coin, looking at it appreciatively. 

"As for lady Emmaline von Morganstern, you can rest assured no one's going to touch you since you're for ransom. Though now that you've announced yourself as valuable, it's your neck if you don't deliver. You need to find your own place to sleep and you won't get in the way of my men. Tonight the crew's going to celebrate its first victory, and you have a choice. The brig, the crew, or you can dine in my cabin and we can speak gold. Up to you, princess."