[b]Two men meet at sea. [/b] ... The first light of dawn crept across the deck, painting the ship in pale gold as the waves rolled in gentle rhythm beneath her hull. Alberic emerged from his cabin, pipe in hand but unlit, the air crisp with salt and silence. The sea was calm. He leaned against the railing, eyes cast toward the horizon. [I]Trefgodwig can’t be far now[/I], he thought. But the nearer they came, the more his chest tightened. He longed to see Aonène agair, her calm presence and quiet strength... but part of him felt a weight behind the ribs. Shame. Apprehension. What if she’s indifferent? What if she’s afraid? His hand tensed around the railing. He didn’t fear battle, didn’t fear death. But that, her silence, her judgment, that frightened him. A sharp bootstep echoed across the deck behind him. He didn’t turn yet, but he heard the smooth stride, the confident pace of someone who wore command like a second skin. He knew the deck, every single plank, creek, bend and patch. He was her captain and he knew this deck like his very life rested upon it because it did every day of his life since he set upon the seas. Drake watched as the sun rose partially on the horizon already awake and about as this was a prime time to survay the sees and exploit the glare the rising sun created. Their voyage had been fairly quiet bar having to avoid snd go past a lurking triple masted double decker cut down ship of the line, it had them by far outmatched in a straight fight and he was no mad man. "Mantain course Helm, Watch, help sail, sail, run out more on main and trim for speed, the light looks good. Keep her steady Mr Nott." The quiet tone carried no shortage of authority as he gave orders with an natural command, comfortable but also absolute. He was master of his domain, his ship. The reply was automatic and the aye sir, Captain and nod came quickly. "Another who rises early, the realm of Neptune is good to us, for now." He said with a little drama as he walked unhurridly with no need to rush, no need to dawdle. "If your tempest requires you light, throw any sparks over board." He said noting his harsh grip of the rail and hour they where at. They where far from a gunpowder barrel or such here. Alberic let out a slow puff from his pipe, the smoke curling upward and catching the gold-tinted breeze. A rare smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he finally turned to face the captain beside him. “Some tempests,” he said with a quiet rasp, “don’t care for sparks… they burn from within and leave no smoke.” He offered the line with the tone of a man who’d lived it. He knocked the wooden rail with two fingers, half in jest, half in hope. “Still, you’re right. The seas have been calm... more than I expected. I won’t tempt the gods by saying I’m grateful, but I’ll take it.” "Now we be sailing at speed again soon." The captain said easily as he hered the sound of sails begin to shift and ropes creeked above them as sails began to move and reposition to catch more wind. The ship gentle sounds as it rode the waves. "Some fires burn within, long as they not burning the hull." The man seemed to be deep into his own thoughts, somthing darker, deeper or hidden behind layers of history. His crew was very much an mix of everyone from all walks of life. "And their you jinxed it. The C word. " The captain said with a easy confidence and a laugh at the fact. The gods, fates hated whenever you when thinking you where a step ahead. "We be late into white court anyway, avoiding the Razzee took us off course. Cut down, least a 54 gun. Old first rate. Asumimg we not meet anyone else." The cut down ship of the line was fast and dangerous with a formidable armament. He explained not sure what his warship knowledge was. He paused as he drank from a flask of rum and offered the man a drink, Navy rum stolen from a trade ship. "Fortune? Favour? What brings you on this life? The others are more undecided least for now." The Privateer asked gauging the passenger who had joined him onnthr black courts errand but he reconised the man's potential danger, he had a air of a soldier or so. It also seemed like a test fot master of the ship too. Alberic accepted the flask without hesitation, taking a short pull of the rum before handing it back with a quiet grunt of appreciation. He wiped his mouth with the back of his glove and glanced at the horizon again as the sails shifted overhead. "Trip’s been longer than planned," he muttered. "Not that I mind the wind keeping us company, but I’ll be glad when I can feel earth under my boots again." He paused for a beat, then continued, his tone turning a touch more sincere, "I serve Lady Andronika... and the Dawnbringer." He said the latter name with a tone with the kind of grounded reverence men usually reserved for old oaths and gravestones, "But that’s not all... I’ve got a search of my own." Alberic turned toward Drake now, his eyes narrowing with a deep glance of fire. The rum had loosened his tongue just enough, and the fact this man was a fellow Vichian privateer meant something. He didn’t speak lightly, but he didn’t hedge either. "You’ve likely heard of him... Warin Montfault," he said, voice low, steady. "Most know him better by his slurred name... 'Grey Beard'. One of Emiddley’s worst. Took my family, burned my father’s ship... and took my sister. Left me to die." He didn’t say more. "Taken rum, always tastes better. Flask too." The captain said taking a short pull from the flask and returning it to his pocket. The flask was taken too, found a captured prize and he took it as his own share portion as a younger man. "Wind is good, speeds safe I'd rather be delayed than fight a loss, i can fight on land but anything less than a cannpn is wortheless with me." He said with a smooth tone and easy calm of someone who had spent multiple years at sea under his own flag. He was a bad shot with a pistol, great with a sword...a cannon.. but damn he hated pistols or they hated him. "Serious business..." He said respectfully with an tone that followed the man's very much heavily invested in his chosen cause and faction. Drakes eyes darkened at that name, he knew that name and had been very much the talk pf his Navy training, he was a legal...pirate, he had a code..their was a line... he was not a outlaw without one. "Blood demands blood. Thats the code." He said simply and nodded, he knew name and reputation. "I'm paid to get you and whatever I'm not told about to the destination, we see what happens after." He drifted things a little, he had been given a job by the black court and he knew discretion kept you alive much as knowing. Alberic gave a faint grunt of agreement, eyes fixed ahead as the faint outline of the coastline began to pierce the morning haze. "Aye... blood demands blood," he echoed quietly. His gaze lingered on the land ahead. "You're being paid, Captain, but I hope whatever coin you took is worth the storm we might be sailing into." He tapped the side of his pipe, ash falling to the deck, then gave a slow nod. "Landfall soon. One way or another.”