Avatar of Apex Sunburn

Status

Recent Statuses

1 yr ago
Current TRUCK-KUN ISEKAI ME AND MY LIFE IS- oh wait i see the problem here whoops
3 yrs ago
@Zeroth I have the same issue. DO NOT try to uninstall and reinstall because you'd be blocked from downloading the app at all from the site as well.
1 like
4 yrs ago
My back, my back, and my back. They're all in pain.

Bio

User has no bio, yet

Most Recent Posts





Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Tae Meiyu; @Tracxyx Bobi; @PapaOso Gears
Mentions: @Potter Arya; @princess Phia & Korrak; @Funnyguy Miris (as Wendel); @PapaOso Bastion; @samreaper Menzai
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 55
Injuries:


Maybe the scary lady wasn’t so scary, after all. Maybe Vallena had been wrong about her.

That wasn’t to say that the girl wasn’t unsettled by her any less than before – something about the way her golden eyes never seemed to blink, and the way she kept touching her sword still made Vallena more than a little uncomfortable – but at least the urge to run far, far away was mostly gone, now! Scratch seemed to be getting along pretty well with the lady, too, so she couldn’t be all that bad.

They were getting along very well, in fact, Vallena noted. She hid quiet, playful giggles behind her hand as she trailed behind the two adults.

But anyway! That the dark elf was okay with the lady was a good sign. And that the lady was also fine with him was a better sign. After all, the white-clothed man from earlier – Eyepatch – had been nice to Scratch, and he was pretty nice himself. Therefore, since this lady was also nice to the dark elf, it was a reasonable guess to say that she had to also be a decent-enough person. One that was a little weird, though. But that was fine! Scratch was weird too, sometimes. And now that Vallena thought about it, the dark elf could also be really, really scary on occasion. He thought she didn’t know, but he didn’t know that Vallena knew more than she let on, and that she was sneaky enough to know a thing or two about what he did when–

The girl’s eyes flitted from Scratch to the lady several times. Nice, but weird. Scary sometimes, but nice. A smile curled her lips. Things clicked in her head. The lady was maybe, possibly somewhat similar, or close enough to Scratch! Vallena had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all!

Self-satisfied smugness washed over the girl’s face. Her smile turned into a grin, and she felt as if she had just grown a head taller. That was an impressive bit of logical deduction, if she dared say so herself!

But that brought her another problem. If the lady was scary, then she couldn’t keep calling her ‘scary lady’, could she? It simply wouldn’t make any sense. What to call her, though? Maybe ‘Snake eyes’, on account of her eyes? That was too obvious. And it also sounded almost like an insult. It wouldn’t do. But there was nothing else Vallena could think of to use as a basis for a name.

“…just as likely to draw its own blood."

Vallena blinked up at the lady. Without knowing it, she had slotted herself between Scratch and her, again, and worst of all, she had only caught the tail end of whatever it was the lady had said to her. Curiosity was mentioned, Vallena thought, and so was something about her nature, maybe? But what was all this about drawing blood? Whose blood? And what was doing the drawing? It was all so confusing. Like a…

“Riddle!” Vallena blurted out suddenly, pointing at the lady. “You’re Riddles!”

The moment it took for her to realise what she had just done was short. Very short. Shorter than the time it took for her to blink, even. But it may as well have been an eternity. Her cheeks heated up – Vallena swore they felt hotter than the fire elemental down below – and she wrung her hands so hard that it seemed as if she were trying to twist them off her wrists.

“Sorry!” Her voice turned to a mouse’s squeak. “I-I was thinking about…Other stuff. But yes! Even Scratch says that I’m really curious.” A nervous laugh bubbled from her lips as she tried to think up an answer with what little information she had. “I-I just like knowing things, and finding out about things, and also learning about the world from adventurers’ stories! They always talk about really interesting places. I-I’d love to see some of those places, some day, but for now just knowing about them is fine! Scratch says I need to be a little more careful with finding out stuff, though, but he’s just being Scratch! I-I mean, I am careful and I try to be really, really careful, but I think he just worries too much.”

Another nervous laugh. “Anyway, Scratch and I have work to do! It was nice meeting you!”

Without waiting for a reply from the lady, or even a single word from Scratch, Vallena pushed her way into the bar. Right away, she felt a strangeness in the air. She couldn’t say what it was, only that it reminded of times when she walked in on Scratch having an argument with someone. The awkward tension, the muted atmosphere, it was all too familiar. Vallena suddenly felt very small as she moved through the crowd.

But that feeling, along with the lingering embarrassment from earlier, vanished quickly, and without a trace, when she saw the various people – or peoples – gathered around Gears.

There was the warforged she had seen earlier, imposing and very noticeable amongst a crowd of smaller, fleshier people. But there were also so many others! There was a strangely-dressed woman with ears like Scratch’s, but skin that looked more human-like. What leaves were those that she was wearing? And what animal did those antlers come from? And beside her was a wolf-person. Or maybe a dog-person? Vallena wasn’t sure what the difference was, but she knew she liked the look of his ears. Would he let her scratch them? What would he feel? A muted giggle vibrated in the girl’s throat.

And of course, she couldn’t miss the hooded figure. Hoods meant mystery, and mystery always meant that there was a story to be told. What was their story? Where did they come from? And that bird that was with them, what type was it? Did it have a name? Vallena assumed so. It would be weird to have a pet, and not give it a name. Then, there was the dwarf. He looked old, with all that grey in his beard and hair, and so he had to have at least one interesting story to tell. Vallena was sure of it. Her eyes jumped excitedly between each of these new people. So many questions, so many things she wanted to do, and so little time!

“Val.” Scratch’s voice pulled her out from her mind. She twisted around and looked up at him, brown eyes meeting his knowing, crimson ones. He nodded towards the bar, then grinned at her. “I think this is a good opportunity for you to show me what you know. Go ahead and check in on Gears. Ask her the three starter questions, and we’ll go from there.”

“Really?” Vallena asked. Scratch had always handled warforged-related things from start-to-finish, but she guessed that he was giving her a chance to make up for failing his test earlier. He was nice like that.

“I don’t see why not,” Scratch said with a shrug. “You’ve seen me do it enough times, and we’ve gone over the procedure more times than that. You should know what you’re doing.” He looked at the bar again, then back at her. “Better decide quick, Val. Otherwise, Gears is going to be far too busy to entertain us.”

“I’ll do it!” Immediately after that quick reply, Vallena turned and bounded towards the bar, clambering onto the first empty stool she could find, which happened to be right beside Riddles. The lady was busy talking to another woman, and it took all of Vallena’s self-control to give the latter only the most passing – but still somewhat lingering – of glances before focusing her attention on Gears. Most of it, anyway.

The girl waved to the bartender. “Hello, Miss Gears!” She beamed at the warforged. Gears was nice, and it had always puzzled her whenever she overheard people – passengers or otherwise – say terrible things about warforged. Surely they couldn’t be as bad as what they said, if Gears was one of them? “I’m here to check up on you! Oh, and Scratch is here, too.”

“Thanks, Val.”

Vallena giggled at her little joke. “Anyway! I guess I’ll start. Do you have any…Stiffness?” She stole a look at Scratch. He nodded. Pride swelled in the girl’s chest. “And squeakiness! Do you have that? And the last one…” She paused, her face scrunching up as she scratched her temple with a finger. Just as quickly, her eyes widened in realisation and she smiled. “Oh! And general discomfort! Do you have any discomfort or, or unsteadiness?” She turned to Scratch again, an expectant look on her face. She definitely got this one, there wasn’t any other possibility.

Scaerthrynne chuckled and nodded his head. “No complaints from me, Val. Impressive.” He patted the girl on the shoulder. It was a simple thing, to ask the first three questions any engineer should ask a warforged. Squeakiness and stiffness would immediately identify an issue with the joints, which were the most common points of failure. General discomfort or unsteadiness would point towards a problem with internal systems, which would require some opening up to resolve. After Vallena's mistake with the manifold, Scaerthrynne thought she could do with a small victory to lift her spirits. She was just a child, after all. She could be afforded such a thing.

Leaning against the bar counter, he took a quick look around. Specifically, he looked at the corner where the hateful dragonborn had taken a seat. Not at him – that would have been too obvious – but just at the general area whilst still keeping him well within sight.

Vallena might have missed it, but Scaerthrynne had caught the last parts of his tirade. And to be honest, it wasn’t the contents that had irked him – after a few centuries of life, he had seen just about every stripe of bigotry a person could imagine, and even some unimaginable ones – as much as it had been the anger in the dragonborn’s words. Someone that vexed was liable to do something incredibly silly. That was the last thing Scaerthrynne wanted to happen. At least, not while Vallena and he were present.

But then again, they were surrounded by people who looked like they knew violence well. Maybe that was enough of an incentive for the dragonborn to keep his maw shut.

“Bridge told us you got caught in the rain some days back, Gears,” Scaerthrynne said to the bartender, his words and face amicable. Gears had always treated Vallena and he fairly, and she took enough nonsense from people who were less-than-friendly to her kind. Scaerthrynne had no desire to count himself amongst that inglorious group. “The Captain’s worried that you might be–” He stopped abruptly when he noticed the gnome behind the counter with her. “Hello,” he greeted with a nod, then turned back to Gears.

“I’m jealous, Gears,” he said with a mischievous grin. “Can’t believe the Captain let you hire a hand before letting me get my second assistant.” He threw another furtive glance at the dragonborn’s corner. “Anyway, as I was saying, the Captain wanted me to make sure that you’re fine. And since we’re here, you might as well ask for whatever you need before we go back to playing with the fire elemental. Oh, and–” He nodded towards the dragonborn. “If you’re having any trouble, I might as well take the chance to play Gods and do something about it, too.”




Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Tae Meiyu
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 50
Injuries:


Vallena’s muffled protestations buzzed against Scaerthrynne’s hand. She struggled indignantly against the dark elf’s grip, but he simply ignored her with the nonchalance of someone who had, quite evidently, been in this exact situation many, many times before. “We are, yes,” he replied to the woman right as Vallena hit him in the jaw with a flailing hand. Then, she chomped on his hand. Scaerthrynne cried out, more from the surprise rather than pain. His hold on her loosened, and the girl smoothly slipped away.

“Why’s your face so hard?” She cried, cradling and rubbing her right hand.

Scaerthrynne shot her a glare as he rubbed his aching jaw. “You hit my fuc–” It was close, and despite the irritation bubbling within him, he still managed to catch himself. “You hit my jaw. It’s supposed to be hard. If it isn’t, I’m in trouble. More important, what was that for?”

“You were suffocating me!”

It took all of Scaerthrynne’s willpower not to roll his eyes. She was just a child, he reminded himself. It was normal for them to be ridiculous. “Oh, don’t be dramatic,” he said. “Only thing I did was to save you from a hole you were so fuc–” He coughed into his fist. “A hole you were digging for yourself. Next time I’m going to just watch and fill it in after you’re done. How’s that?”

Vallena stuck her tongue out at him before turning away in a huff.

Scaerthrynne continued to massage his jaw. There wasn’t any chance that she had done any damage, but it sure stung, where she had hit him. “Does that look like a frightened girl to you?” He nodded towards the girl and cast a sidelong glance at the woman. “I’m not saying that you are, but if you are, don’t worry about her nonsense. Val speaks her mind easily and forgets things just as easily. She didn’t mean anything more than an observation by what she said earlier, and knowing her, she probably has a whole new impression of you, or a handful of them, by now.”

Shaking his head, he chuckled. “And for what it’s worth, she’s called me scary before, and I’ve been taking care of her for…Well, for several years, now. Ungrateful little brat.”

He folded his arms across his chest and watched Vallena make her way down the deck. She moved with a carefree sort of confidence, and a spring in her step. Like she owned the ship, and everything that had just happened – the boy’s broken arm, meeting new faces – was nought but a distant memory. A smile, wistful and thoughtful, tugged on his lips as he followed her, keeping himself just close enough to keep her within his sight. Every one of her actions exuded childish whimsy. Scaerthrynne could scarcely remember a time when he had been the same. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t ever stay annoyed at the girl for long. She was just a child. Let her enjoy immaturity and youth, and make the memories that he had long forgotten.

Vallena continued on her merry way, and Scaerthrynne could tell that something up ahead, something that was hidden from him by the crowd, had caught her eye. Her steps became quicker, her head kept trying to look through, above, and around the people milling about on deck. Of course, that meant that she paid too little attention to where she was actually going, and it was only a matter of time before she walked straight into a passenger, a halfling. He watched Vallena apologise profusely, with several bows of her head. Then, he watched the passenger berate her.

The smile on his face morphed into a smirk. Some lessons, she needed to learn on her own. But when the passenger’s berating went on for a little too long, and seemed to be going a little too far, he decided that it was time for him to step in.

“Hey!” He shouted across the deck. Both Vallena and the passenger turned to him. “That’s enough. Leave the girl alone.”

“Who’s she to you?” The passenger challenged him.

“My daughter,” Scaerthrynne replied without missing a beat. As he expected, and as he had seen so many times before, the passenger’s anger slowly melted away, replaced by confusion. He looked at him, then at Vallena, then at Scaerthrynne again.

“Your daughter?”

Scaerthrynne shrugged. “She really, really takes after her mother. What can I do?”

“Oh, well…” The passenger glanced at the woman, then at Vallena, then nodded to Scaerthrynne, as if in understanding. “Well, you…You should be more careful with her!”

He disappeared back into the crowd. Scaerthrynne grinned at the woman. “Works every time,” he said, but quickly followed it up with, “Most times.”

Vallena returned to the two of them, her eyes shining with excitement. She looked at him first, then also at the woman, then at him again. “Scratch, it–I mean he–I mean they’re there!” Her words came tumbling out one after another, and were all buzzing with energy. “The Warforged!”

“Yes, Gears has been with us for a while now. Glad you finally noticed.”

“No, I mean–Hey!” Vallena gave him a playful slap on the arm, but then instantly continued as if he hadn’t interrupted her. “I meant the passenger Warforged! He’s–” she pushed her arms out to her side “–Big! And armed, too. Or they. I don’t know. I couldn’t tell. But they’re definitely not like Gears! Gears is prettier. This one looks like they’ve been places! A Warforged adventurer, isn’t that cool? I wonder if they’re using stock pieces or if they did any modifications. Do you think they’d let me–”

“Easy, Val,” Scaerthrynne cut in. “You can’t just go up to them and ask to look at their insides. You wouldn’t do that to a flesh-and-blood patient, would you?” Vallena thought about it for a moment, and Scaerthrynne felt his stomach drop a fraction of an inch before she giggled and shook her head. “Right, well, as much as what everyone else believes, Warforged aren’t just machines. That means if you want to do anything, you need permission. And that means you’d better start learning how to ask for something incredibly ridiculous and get away with it really quick, if that’s what you’re after.”

Vallena tapped a finger on her chin, then nodded. “Okay! Maybe after we’re done working, I’ll give it a try.”

Scaerthrynne hoped she would forget. He could do without explaining to a Warforged why the girl wanted to, in what he expected to be her own words, ‘open them up and study their insides’. Certainly, it would be an interesting experience, but not the sort of interesting he liked.




Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Tae Meiyu; @Helo Ezekiel
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 50
Injuries:


The man understood!

“Yes! Scratch’s a nice elf.” Vallena beamed at him and nodded, loose tresses dancing with delight. Most of the people her dark elf friend and she had met before had been either wary or outright hostile towards the former at first, and had been slow to change their minds, if they ever did. Some amongst Stormrider’s crew still viewed Scratch with suspicion, Vallena knew, and that really, really irked her. Sure, he could say some pretty strange things from time-to-time – like now – and many of the things he did were questionable, but it was always for a good cause! Like saving lives, or fixing stuff.

Well, almost always for a good cause. Scratch could be really scary when, as the man said, people got on his bad side, and that was when he would do really scary things. Just the thought of some of the things he had done sent a shiver down her back.

But people rarely got on his bad side, and so those weren’t things he did often. He still did more good stuff than he did bad, as Vallena saw it. That made Scratch a good enough elf, in her books, regardless of what anyone said.

And now there was one more person that agreed with her! That made it five whole people whom she knew that didn’t get put off by Scratch upon their first meeting. Maybe things were starting to look up.

This person was an interesting one, too. Mostly because he was missing an eye, and that immediately lit a curious blaze in Vallena’s mind. How did he lose it? And when? Did he ever miss the eye, or had he grown used to the injury? Would he let her take a look at the wound? Or Scratch? Maybe Scratch could build him a replacement. The dark elf was great at tinkering and making things, after all. And then there were all the scars on the man’s face. What adventures had he had? Were they fun? Exciting? Scary? Did he meet any strange or interesting or nice or bad people? And what about the places he had been, what were they like, and what did the people eat, and what did they wear and speak and do–

Vallena quickly pulled herself from her thoughts, just as the first of many questions was about to leave her lips. A light flush coloured her cheeks. Scratch had pointed this out about her before; she was an excitable girl, and one easily distracted from her tasks. But could he blame her? It wasn’t often that she met anyone new outside of when Stormrider took on fresh recruits, and working in an airship’s engine room or surgery didn’t give her many opportunities to interact with passengers.

But when Scratch was right, he was right. The two of them still had things to do.

She blinked up at the man. He seemed cool. He probably was cool, and he was nice to Scratch too! Thus, he needed a name. Just as she called Scratch, Scratch, Vallena decided that from now on, she was going to call this man Eyepatch. Or Mister Eyepatch, if she was feeling formal.

“I’ll get someone to help you carry–” she began, but cut herself off when she saw that Eyepatch carried the boy with absolutely no trouble. He didn’t even seem to feel the weight in his arms. “Or nevermind. The sick bay’s just down below and all the way at the bow!” She reminded him again. “Don’t worry if you forget, that happens to me a lot. Just ask someone for directions! Or you can just walk in the opposite direction of the engines’ sounds! Scratch taught me that, and it’s always worked for me!”

She waved Eyepatch off, then turned around. A shudder rippled through her as she laid eyes on the scary lady again. There was something about her that didn’t sit well with Vallena, and it wasn’t just what she had said, even if that had done plenty to make the girl want to run very, very far away from her. But it was to do with the scary lady’s airs. It reminded Vallena of people she used to avoid when she had been living on the streets, people who were simply dangerous, and not to be messed with.

Or maybe it was because she had broken another thief’s arm without a second thought.

Vallena shook her head. There wasn’t any need for her to be afraid. Really, there wasn’t! She had Scratch around, after all, and she knew he would always look out for her, just as how she looked out for him. There was absolutely nothing for her to be worried about.

But still, she kept her movements quiet and herself scarce as she slipped behind Scaerthrynne.

The more the dark elf listened to the woman, the more he found his interest piqued. And he liked it; it was a welcome change from the usual, boring fare who booked passage aboard Stormrider. But then again, he supposed that born killers weren’t exactly all that common. And a born killer was exactly what this woman struck him as. The way she spoke of poisoning; the glint in her eye; the way those words flowed so easily, so fluently from her lips, as if they were but her usual thoughts given voice, they all told a story of a person who didn’t just work with death, but had grown up around it.

However, she had reacted somewhat strangely to Vallena’s quiet, spur-of-the-moment remark. A soft-spot, or a sore one, perhaps? Or maybe this woman wasn’t as tough as what he had thought?

He shrugged mentally. None of it mattered, in the end. She was a passenger, and would soon enough be nothing more than a memory, if even that. It was more likely that she’d just fade into being just one, vague face amongst the thousands Scaerthrynne had seen on Stormrider.

“Can’t argue with you there,” he replied anyway. This conversation was an interesting one, and it would be a shame to simply let it go to waste. “The fear of what’s to come, and knowing that it will come, is usually a great incentive for someone to start talking. Or to just make them die in fear, if that’s your sort of thing.” He shrugged, physically this time. “But I’ve to admit, when I did things like that, I didn’t use poisons. Diseases were more of my thing, and it was usually for–”

“Why are you doing this?” The man’s voice was rough, much like the days-old growth covering his jaw. He laid on a simple bed, the sort one might find in a prison, his limbs lashed to its frame by thick, leather restraints. Sweat, and only sweat, covered his body in a thin sheen. He drew in a breath, choked on it, and coughed. Metal rattled loudly as he bucked against the straps on his wrists and ankles. The laboured breath he released after his fit bubble in his throat.

In a dark corner, unlit by the single, oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, Scaerthrynne sat, perched on the edge of a table. That one piece of furniture was the sturdiest thing in this fetid cell. In his hands, he held a sheaf of papers, which he flipped through one by one. “Mister Edgar Federland,” he read aloud, ignoring the man’s question. “You’re an unpleasant son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?”

The man turned his head as much as he could, squinting his eyes to peer through the dark. “Fucking elf, I should’ve known,” he spat.

“You’ve got a great deal of charges,” Scaerthrynne continued, and continued to ignore him. “Let’s see here…Twenty burglaries, seven murders, five kidnappings and…Twenty rapes?” He looked up from the sheaf, a wry smile on his face. “You must wake up very early to get all this done in…What? A week? Two, at most? Did you ever consider putting this sort of work ethic to other things?”

“Fuck you.” The edge in the man’s words were blunted by the hacking cough that tore his throat raw.

“Oh, I’m afraid your fucking days are over, Mister Federland.” Scaerthrynne hopped off the table. He turned, humming a tune as he ran his hand across a row of syringes before selecting one, holding it up to the lamp and inspecting its contents. “Your town is sick,” he said matter-of-factly. “Very sick. But I’m sure you know that already. How many died in your prison? Thirty, was it?”

“It’s no fucking business of mine!” An edge of fear in his words. “This fucking town sentenced me to hang, what’s their suffering got to do with me?”

“Nothing,” Scaerthrynne replied with a shrug and approached the bed. “And everything. You’re right, they did sentence you to hang, but I think you’ll find that so long as you’re dead, your fellow townsfolk won’t really care about the process of it.” He flicked a finger against the syringe. “But let me go back to your first question. Why am I doing this? Well, first of all, your town hired me to find a cure for this plague, and in order for me to do that, I must first know how it progresses.”

“Get the fuck away from me!” The man struggled, but the restraints were too tight. Too secure. The bedframe rattled loudly. It skidded and scraped against the bare, stone floor, but otherwise, he achieved painfully little. “You fucking mad elf! Get away!”

“I must know how it kills, you see,” Scaerthrynne went on. He watched the man fight, watched his muscle bulge, and his veins pop as he fought in vain against his lashings. The dark elf clicked his tongue, then held the syringe like a dagger. “You’re only making this harder for yourself, you idiot.” Then, without another word, he stabbed the needle into the man’s gut. The man howled, an otherworldly, blood-curdling sound. “It doesn’t matter where I prick you, you see. This syringe,” he said and pushed on the plunger, “is filled with infected pus, taken from the dead.”

The man’s screams turned to sobs, then to weeping pleas. “Just fucking kill me, you gods-cursed demon!”

Scaerthrynne pulled out the syringe and tossed it aside. A wicked smirk came over his face. “And that brings me to my second reason for why I’m doing this.” He stepped away from the bed, returned to his perch, and picked up the sheaf of papers again. Pulling a pencil from his ear, he tapped the blunt end of it against the sheaf. “It’s interesting. Wouldn’t you agree?”


“–medical studies and such.”

Scaerthrynne blinked. That was a strange memory his mind had brought up. More irksome was that it was a very vague one – he had experimented on people many times before, and had done so under conditions that were similar. That recollection could have come from anywhere. He shook his head slightly, disguising the movement as a mere tilt of his head, as if to work out a crick from his neck. “Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “I have other things to attend to. That was a good talk. Enjoy the rest of your journey.”

He paused. “And it’s alright,” he said, responding to her apology. “Val was probably just put off by what we were talking about. She’ll learn to get used to it.” He looked down at the girl. “Especially if she wants to be a surgeon in her own right, someday.”

“But not today,” Vallena piped up.

Scaerthrynne chuckled quietly and nudged her away so that he could start walking towards the bar. “Yeah, not today, or yesterday, or tomorrow. I find myself asking when exactly, sometimes.” He glanced at the girl with a knowing look. She didn’t respond, and instead looked away with a nervous giggle. For a while, they walked in awkward silence – Scaerthrynne somewhat level with the woman, and between her and Vallena. The girl trailed just a step behind him, biting on her lip and looking this way and that. Then, she picked up the pace, squeezing between Scaerthrynne and the woman. She swallowed hard and hesitantly reached for the woman’s sleeve, tugging on it gently.

“Hey, uh,” she began, averting her eyes for a while before looking up at the woman. “Sorry. For saying that you’re scary earlier. You are, though, for breaking that boy’s arm, but um…You don’t look scary. You just–”

Scaerthrynne sighed, covered the girl’s mouth with a hand, and pulled her back. “She means she accepts your apology, and that it’s okay,” he quickly said to the woman.




Location: Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Tae Meiyu; @Helo Ezekiel
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 45
Injuries:


Scaerthrynne looked at the woman, then at the man. The beginnings of a smile crept onto his face – much as he would prefer to stay out of their spat, he couldn’t help but be entertained by people with diametrically opposing viewpoints exchanging ideas. He was even learning a few things. One, the man, despite his age, was an idealist. That was admirable, if Scaerthrynne had to be honest, and rather interesting. Most people with that many years under their belt tended to be jaded. Cynical. Disillusioned with the world. And yet this man here still saw the light in things.

Two, the woman wasn’t just familiar with violence. From her words, Scaerthrynne wondered if perhaps she had been raised in it. Or perhaps she just had a very, very rough upbringing. One where childish idealism was beaten out of a person before they could even understand what it even meant. How did she navigate the world? What were her perspectives on matters? Scaerthrynne considered her to be just as interesting as the man. Part of him wanted to find out what made either of them tick. The other part wanted to just get out of here as soon as possible and finish with his tasks.

But, before he could get another thought in, and before his smile could even fully materialise, he felt a pair of hands tug on his coat. He looked down at his side. Vallena was there, partially hiding herself behind him and sneaking glances at the woman.

“She’s scary,” she said in a small voice.

“There’re scarier people out there,” Scaerthrynne replied nonchalantly, his smile dying before its birth. “Go give the man directions to the sick bay, Val.” He reached back and patted one of her hands before nudging her away. She hesitantly let go of his coat, but kept most of her body hidden behind him.

“Alright, Scratch.” With a nod, and another furtive glance at the woman, Vallena turned away.

Scaerthrynne placed himself between her and the woman, and faced the latter. “That’s quite a selection on offer,” he remarked, sounding almost impressed. Almost. “But it’ll take more than variety to interest me. I’m not bragging, but I lived through the entirety of the Great War. Fought in most of it, too, so I’ve seen plenty of injuries. Minor ones, major ones, ones that rearrange a body entirely. That last one was fun to treat the first few times, but even they got boring quick. Only so many ways you can maim a person before actually killing them outright. So, if you can think of an injury that’ll surprise me, I’d honestly appreciate it. I might even take notes instead of giving treatment.”

He paused. A smile twitched on his lips. “Okay, maybe I was bragging a little.”

“But since you gave me a list of options, it’d be rude if I didn’t address all of them,” he continued. “Physical injuries are always uninteresting. Challenging, if you stab them through the ribs and into the lung, but not a particularly tricky puzzle to figure out. And if you get the heart, they’re dead before I can get to them, so it’s a mortician you’d want. A partially severed limb? Potentially interesting, if the victim insists on remaining in one piece, but if it’s hanging by sinews, then amputation would likely be the only course of action. With the limited surgery aboard, I can hardly be expecting to reattach limbs. Even I’m not that skilled.”

His smile widened, and set into his face. “Now, poisons are always interesting, but it depends on what kind of poison. Since you specifically mentioned a poisoned wound, I imagine it’s a fast-acting poison, meant to make a near-miss lethal. In which case, the victim would likely be dead before I can do anything. But if it’s a slower-acting poison, well…” A brief jolt of excitement made his heart flutter. He could already picture all the experiments he would have to do; all the tests; all the analyses, deductions, and eventually, the sweet taste of success.

“That might be interesting,” he concluded. Taking a step back, he looked at the woman with an expression that was midway between minor approval and slight anticipation. The former not so much because of what she intended to do – a joke or not – as it was her knowledge of the lethal arts. To heal and to hurt were, as it was often said, two sides of the same coin, after all. And the latter, well, that was because a small part of him held some hope that this trip might turn out to be one of the less boring ones.

“Oh, and another thing. I’m not a doctor. I’m a surgeon. I didn’t go to some fancy school and study until my brain turned to soggy mush, so I won’t claim that title for myself.” He looked over his shoulder to check on Vallena, then turned back to the woman. “And in my role as ship’s surgeon, I have a duty to advise against you causing further harm. But as a surgeon, well…” He trailed off again and shrugged. “Only thing I’d mind is if it was uninteresting, that’s all I’ll say.”

Vallena met Scaerthrynne’s brief gaze before returning her attention to the man. “That’s just Scratch! He’s always saying things like that. I mean, in that way.” She giggled nervously, looking up at him. “He’s not actually saying that it’s okay for her to do…That kind of stuff, really. He just, um…He just has that way of talking. It’s a little weird, I know, but I swear he’s not bad! He’s just strange. And a little–”

“Vallena, if you want to criticise me, just do it outright. This somehow hurts even more.” Scaerthrynne’s dry voice cut her off. “Directions?”

“Oh, right! Sorry.” Another nervous laugh. She pointed off to her side. “There’re stairs over there that’ll take you to the second deck. It’s around the bar, you can’t miss it. Then when you’re below, just go all the way to the bow. The sick bay’s the most forward area. If you get lost, just ask someone! They’ll know where to go.” She looked over her shoulder at Scaerthrynne. He shrugged and nodded. “Scratch and I have other stuff to do, now.”




Location: Top deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Interactions: @Tae Meiyu; @Helo Ezekiel
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 40
Injuries:


“I appreciate the honesty, but you can save your breath, lady.” Scaerthrynne didn’t even look at the woman as he spoke. Far too busy was he with digging item after item out of his medical bag, squinting at scrawled labels tied to vials and scribbled numbers on rolls of bandages and small, battered boxes. Those which he didn’t need, he unceremoniously returned to the bag. That which he thought might be useful, he laid out in a neat row on the floor. And that which could be discarded – dressings stained to be used, vials too dirty to be safe, dates too old to be good – he heaped into a pile by his side.

He picked up a bottle of colourless liquid by its neck. ‘Slaked ether’, the label read. Several sheets of cloth covered its mouth, secured tightly by multiple loops of twine. Why you broke the boy’s arm isn’t any of my concern, only that you did.” He continued to address the woman, and continued to not look at her. Instead, he held the bottle up to the light and gave its contents a few swirls. It remained clear. Then, he tossed it to Vallena. “Use this, Val,” he said. “It’s stronger than our usual vaporized azote. Wet a rag with three drops of that stuff and press it over the boy’s nose and mouth.”

Vallena caught the bottle, but only just. Scaerthrynne finally looked at the woman, his expression empty of any outrage, or even annoyance. If anything, he appeared pleased. “Knowing you did what you did proves me right, and tells me that the only thing wrong with the boy is a broken arm. Knowing why, however, does nothing for me. It’s not exactly useful information for my sort of work.”

“Scratch?” Vallena called to him. He immediately turned to her. “Did we…Did we ever test this stuff?”

Scaerthrynne shrugged, but waved his hand dismissively anyway. “It’ll be fine. Either it’ll knock the boy out or it won’t, in which case you can use vaporised azote.” Vallena didn’t look convinced. Her face scrunched up in both uncertainty and concern. She looked at the bottle, then at him. Scaerthrynne let out a sigh, then shook his head. “Alright, it’s not entirely untested. I tried it on myself the other day. Gave me a good night’s sleep and I woke up alive the next day. Is that proof enough for you that the boy will be fine?”

Vallena’s eyes widened. “You did what? She exclaimed, her voice crackling slightly. Scaerthrynne wasn’t perturbed in the least.

“The path of progress is paved with sacrifices, or something like that.” He nodded to the boy. “But for now, you should worry less about me and more about him. The shock of breaking his arm might be keeping the bulk of the pain from his mind, but I don’t imagine it’s going to last much longer.” He clicked his tongue and started to pack his things away. “And that’ll be when the real screaming starts, and then I’ll want to put him to sleep with everything we’ve got.”

The boy looked at him with nervous eyes, his lips trembling. “Relax,” Scaerthrynne said. “She’ll knock you out long before that happens.” He cast a questioning glance at Vallena. “Isn’t that right, Val?”

A moment’s hesitation, then the girl nodded. She pulled out a rag from her own bag before unwrapping the bottle with the sort of care one might use with prodding a dragon. Despite the lack of colour, a sweet scent wafted from the bottle’s contents. “Don’t breathe in too deeply,” Scaerthrynne warned. Vallena didn’t reply, her brows knitted in concentration as she gingerly dabbed the rag against the bottle’s mouth. Once, twice, and immediately after the third time, tied the cloth sheets back over the bottle.

“Good,” Scaerthrynne said, nodding his head. “Remember, nose and mouth.”

Vallena nodded. “Got it, Scratch.” She moved, kneeling by the boy’s head with both legs folded under her, before gently lifting it and letting it rest on her lap. Nervous eyes looked up at her. She smiled back. “Don’t worry,” she said softly, gently pressing the rag over his face. “Deep breaths now, okay? Everything’s going to be fine when you wake up.”

The boy nodded. His shoulders heaved as he drew in his first breath. Within three breaths, his eyes began to flutter shut. Another four, and his body went limp. Vallena removed the rag, chucked it aside, and looked at Scaerthrynne. He moved over to her and felt for the boy’s pulse on his neck. Then, he did the same with his wrist. “Heartbeat’s steady,” he said, nodding to Vallena. “He’ll be out for a few hours, I think. Well done, Val. Proceed with setting his arm.”

“Okay, Scratch.” Vallena took a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow before going to the boy’s arm. She set the splint – a brass tube taken from the engineering stores – beside the broken limb. Then came the bandages, which she set next to the pipe. She took another moment to collect herself before carefully manipulating the limb, getting the bones into the right position.

While the girl went about her work, Scaerthrynne caught the tail end of white-clad man’s words. He spoke sense – Scaerthrynne agreed that the boy didn’t deserve to have his arm broken, or to be given a sudden trip to the ground from altitude, as the woman had suggested as an alternative. Children were meant to be stupid, and should be expected to do stupid things. And of course, they should be made to win prizes that were just as stupid as a result of their actions, but surely they could be shown some mercy. Scaerthrynne certainly did, with regards to Vallena, as much as she would disagree.

He wiped his hands on his trousers and stood up. There wasn’t any need for him to share his thoughts; he had already spent more time than he would have liked here. “My office is in the engine room,” he replied to the man. “Not the best place for an injured child. I’ll have some members of the crew move him to the sick bay one deck below. If you’d prefer, you can do it yourself. I’m not stopping you, but I’ve got other duties to attend to, so I’m not helping either.” He rummaged in his bag, pulled out a box of pills, and handed it to the man. “Willow bark extract. Helps with pain. The boy should sleep through the worst of it with how much slaked ether we've given him, but this should help with the aches when he wakes up. If you bring him down, give it to the orderlies. They're adequate enough to know what to do. If not, hand it to whatever crew members you get to bring him down."

Then, he turned to the woman. She seemed remarkably at ease for someone who had just broken a boy’s arm, but Scaerthrynne supposed that none of this was anything new to her. Judging by what she had said, this was probably the norm for her, if anything. “Try not to do this again, if you don’t mind,” he said, sounding almost bored. “These injuries aren’t the most interesting to treat, and I’ve better things to do with my time. Next time someone picks your pocket, tell a crew member. The Captain doesn’t allow us to have fun anymore, so we’re not going to throw anyone overboard.”

“All done!” Vallena’s announcement snatched Scaerthrynne’s attention from everything else. He went back to her, standing over the boy with arms crossed as he examined the dressing with keen eyes. The dressing was a simple one – little more than a brass tube strapped to the arm with bandages – but it would do until someone, probably Scaerthrynne, could make a proper cast. The girl looked up at him expectantly. "How did I do, Scratch? I remembered all the steps you told me before."

"I'd hope so," Scaerthrynne said drily. "There's only five of them, at most." Vallena blushed and chuckled nervously. He smiled at her, an upwards twitch of the corners of his lips, and extended a hand to help her up. "Good girl. You're doing well."




Location: Engine control room >> Top Deck
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Mentions: @Tae Meiyu; @Helo Ezekiel
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 35
Injuries:


“Bridge to engine control. Bridge to engine control. Anyone there?”

Scaerthrynne let out a long, resigned sigh as the crackling voice buzzed through a speaker mounted in the ceiling. It seemed a natural law, almost, that everytime he felt he could snatch a few moments to relax and go about his own business, the bridge would seek him out. “Is there a light up there that flashes whenever I take a break?” He wondered aloud, looking up from Vallena’s book and at the rack of tools before him.

“I thought you liked work, Scratch,” the girl replied in a mumble, her tongue sticking out in concentration as she carefully reassembled her pistol.

Interesting work,” Scaerthrynne corrected. He waited for a moment, and when he heard nothing else from the speaker, he made himself more comfortable in his chair. Its wooden frame creaked as he leaned back, kicking his heels up and onto a corner of the benchtop. “The stuff the bridge has us doing most of the time tends to be remarkably uninteresting. Not that I blame them. Any engineering issue major enough for them to notice would likely be first noticed by us, and with the sort of passengers we’re carrying these days, any medical emergency would likely be settled by a healer of some kind.” He nodded his approval of whatever he read in the book before turning a page. “The author’s done their research. Never thought anyone other than a Dark Elf would know that Dusky Ear moss is hallucinogenic. Captain Fair’s going to have a–”

“Hey! No spoilers!” Vallena snapped. Scaerthrynne glanced up at her. She looked back at him, her hickory eyes meeting his blood-red ones. He raised a brow. She attempted to glower at him, but she couldn’t hold back the amused smirk tugging on her lips, and ended up giggling. “I’d never have guessed that you’d like stories like that, Scratch.”

“Stranger things have happened,” he replied simply and went back to reading.

She set her tools down and stretched, pushing her hands out in front of her as far as she could. A shudder rattling the airship’s frame pulled a surprised yelp from her, and almost sent her sprawling to the floor. She caught herself just in time, bracing herself against the benchtop. “That felt strong.” Fearful worry was thick in her words. “S-Should we ring the bridge, Scratch?”

“No need,” Scaerthrynn replied. He hadn’t moved, and neither had anything else around him. “It was just a bit of minor turbulence, nothing more. It only felt bad to you because you were off-balance.” Vallena’s face reddened and she quickly returned to her work. He turned another page. “If it were anything more serious, we'd have the Captain screaming our ears off by now.”

The speaker crackled to life again. “Bridge to engine control. Bridge to engine control. I know you’re there, Scratch. Respond immediately.”

Vallena looked at Scaerthrynne nervously. He scowled and shook his head. “They just don’t know when to give up, do they?” With another sigh, he closed the book, slid it onto the benchtop, and carefully swung his boots back onto the floor. “Don’t worry, Val,” he said, patting her on the shoulder as he squeezed past her, and approached a box attached to the wall beside the gauges. “They wouldn’t be asking for us so nicely if it was a real emergency. I’d bet half my pay that it’s nothing worth too much of our attention.”

“Like what, Scratch?”

Scaerthrynne shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe someone broke something, or someone’s got a complaint.”

Vallena paused and looked at him, grinning. “Was that a serious bet, Scratch?”

“Why not? You’re on, Val. Half for half.” He chuckled, then held a finger to his lips before pressing a bright, red button on the box. There was a soft click, and the microphone taking up the top half of the box buzzed to life. Scaerthrynne cleared his throat, coughing into a fist, and leaned against the wall. “Engine control to bridge. Engine control to bridge. Sorry for the wait. We got caught up gossiping with the elemental. Should try it yourself, some time. They know quite a lot of stuff for someone stuck down here all the time.”

“Very funny, Scratch,” came the deadpan reply. “Anyway, Captain wants you up on the top deck. We’ve got a child who broke their arm, by the sound of things.”

Scaerthrynne groaned. “Didn’t you look at the passenger manifest? You’ve got at least one healer up there who can do a much better job. You don’t need me.”

“Maybe, but they’re not there right now. And besides, the Captain’s not asking you to head up, he’s telling you to. You’re not talking your way out of this one, Scratch. Bridge out.”

The speaker clicked off. For a while, the control room was filled with only the sound of rumbling machinery and that of Scaerthrynne’s sighs. “Well, you heard him,” he said and faced Vallena. “How’re you doing with your pistol, Val?”

Vaellan spun around and held the reassembled weapon towards him. “All done!” She beamed ear-to-ear.

Scaerthrynne leaned over, inspecting it from end-to-end, and top-to-bottom, with a keen eye. He saw none of the usual errors – screws left loose, an improperly placed trigger, misaligned sights, to name a few – as well as none of the less usual ones, too. Vallena looked at him with confident eyes, but the slight trembling in her arm gave away her nervous anticipation. “Relax Val,” he said, perhaps a little unhelpfully, as he took the pistol from her. He turned it muzzle-down and gave it a few shakes. Nothing came out.

He then pulled the hammer back, listening to each individual click. Nothing wrong, there. Slowly, he peeled his thumb away from the hammer. It stayed in place. Nothing wrong there, either. And finally, he pulled the trigger, using his off hand to ease the hammer forward instead of letting it snap. The trigger felt lighter than before and it released the hammer earlier, as it should. “Well done, Val,” he said and returned the weapon to her. “A bit more practice and I might let you handle all of our weapons’ maintenance on your own.”

“Really?” Her excitement was clear from just that one word. “Thanks!”

“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Scaerthrynne squeezed around her and grunted as he squatted low to pull out a bag from under the workbench. “We’ll need our medical and engineering kits, I imagine, so go get those ready, Val.” With another grunt, he stood back up and threw it onto the benchtop. It landed with a loud thud. He unbuttoned the flap, flipped it open, and started taking out items one-by-one to make sure it contained everything he would need, and some things that he wouldn’t need, but wanted to have on hand.

Vallena watched him and tilted her head. “But the bridge told us to deal with a broken arm, Scratch. I don’t see why we’d need tools and stuff.”

“That’s what they tell us now,” he replied drily. “Just give them a while to think.”

“What do you–”

As if on cue, the speaker buzzed and crackled to life again. Scaerthrynne finished sorting out the bag and slung it across his body. He pushed past Vallena and stood by the box. “Bridge to engine control. Bridge to engine control. While you’re up there, could you swing by the bar and check the lights? A few passengers complained last night that some of them were flickering.”

Scaerthrynne pressed the button. “Engine control to bridge. Engine control to bridge. It can’t be that bad of a problem if nobody told us about it at the time when it happened.”

“Would you have gone up if we did?”

“Probably not.”

“And that’s why we’re asking you to take care of it now, Scratch. You’re going up, anyway. Oh, and another thing. The Captain wants you to check in on Gears, too. It got caught out in that squall a few days ago. He wants you to make sure it’s got no moisture damage.”

Scaerthrynne pinched the bridge of his nose. When he spoke, it was with barely contained irritation. “Did it ever occur to any of you up there that if Gears was hurt or feeling unwell, she’d come find me herself? You know, like the sentient, not-a-piece-of-equipment being that she is?”

“Just do your damn job, Scratch.”

He rolled his eyes at that, so hard that they could have fallen out of their sockets. “Alright, master. Should I make you and your friends tea while I’m at it?”

“Thanks for the offer, Scratch. I take mine–”

“Oh, piss off. Engine control out.” Scaerthrynne pulled his finger off the button. He stood in place for a little while longer, taking the time to calm himself. It was normal, he had to keep telling himself, for some people to be prejudiced against Warforged. But then again, that didn’t mean he had to simply accept it, especially when that prejudice was targeted towards one whom Scaerthrynne had, by now, worked with for at least a handful of years. He saw her as a colleague, more than anything else.

“Well, I think Gears is a cool lady,” Vallena said suddenly.

That got a chuckle out of Scaerthrynne. He pushed himself off of the wall. “That, she is. And you know, I’m pretty sure we’ve got another Warforged aboard.”

Vallena gasped. “Do we? Cool! Can we try talking to them?”

“Sure,” Scaerthrynne said with a grin, patting Vallena on the shoulder. “To borrow the words of the ones up top, we may as well while we’re up there. Get yourself kitted up in walking attire, Val. Let’s get this done as quickly as possible.”

For Scaerthrynne and Vallena, ‘walking attire’ meant looking like the average adventurer who had spent all their coin, and that of their friends, to book a passage on the Stormrider. That meant a plain shirt, a pair of plain trousers, and a plain coat over all of them for Scaerthrynne, along with pistols, pouches, and axes on his belt, and a short musket across his back. As for Vallena, she was similarly dressed in her work clothes, which consisted of a white shirt, dark trousers, and a hooded coat. Her daggers and pistols were sheathed and holstered on her hips, and of course, she had her goggles sitting on her head.

As the name suggested, they used such attire for when they needed to walk across the Stormrider’s decks quickly, and without distractions. Looking like armed adventurers kept most passengers away. Few people would want to get in the way of anyone who looked like they had either been in many fights before, or that they had no qualms about starting one. And those who didn’t give them a wide berth – mostly other, actual adventurers – didn’t think of them as crew, and so didn’t stop them to ask questions which, to be perfectly honest, neither Scaerthrynne nor Vallena could answer to begin with.

The pair marched through the crowded top deck, Scaerthrynne taking the lead and Vallena just half-a-step behind him. A woman cast a lasting, worried gaze at him as he passed, worried eyes glued to the wooden stock jutting out over his shoulder. He gave her a sardonic smile. “Don’t worry, ma’am,” he said, his words dripping with mischief. “It’s just a really fancy walking stick. I’m almost five hundred years old. I’m allowed to have one.”

“Over there, Scratch.” Vallena tugged on his sleeve and pointed at a small commotion.

Scaerthrynne followed her until they reached the edge of the gathering crowd. “Hold on tight,” he said and made sure Vallena had a firm grip on his coat before pushing his way through curious onlookers and, if he had to be honest, people who had nothing better to do. “Excuse me, ship’s surgeon and assistant coming through,” he repeated, each time his words growing louder and more annoyed. Vallena echoed his words, but her small voice could do little to help. Eventually, Scaerthrynne simply started physically shoving those in his way, out of the way.

A strange scene greeted them on the other side. On the floor was a young boy – he couldn’t be that much older than Vallena – with an arm that was quickly purpling. A clear sign of a break. The injured limb rested in the lap of a woman dressed in strange clothes, and with an appearance that reminded Scaerthrynne of a land he might have visited several decades ago. That, or he was remembering drawings from one of the many books he had read before. A man knelt beside the boy, trying to comfort him.

“Good morning, everyone, I’m Scaerthrynne Airresh, Stormrider’s surgeon.” His words came out one after the other at a rapid pace. He had no intentions of staying any longer than he needed to. A cursory glance was all it took to tell him that this was another straightforward, and thus uninteresting problem. “This is my assistant, Vallena,” he continued and gestured to the girl.

She waved. “Hello!”

“So if you’d excuse the two of us…” Scaerthrynne said and trailed off, kneeling beside the boy. There was no tearing of the skin in the forearm, and no broken bones protruding. That meant an interior fracture, and that wasn’t something that needed his level of skill to handle. “Vallena,” he called out, scooting over to give the girl some space. She squatted beside him. “What do you see?”

She tilted her head. “No broken skin, no visible bones. The break’s all on the inside, Scratch.”

“Well done,” Scaerthrynne replied. “So what must be done?”

“Oh, I know! This is an easy one!” Vallena giggled. “Set the bone, wrap it with a splint, and keep it still until the bone heals itself.”

“You might want to knock him out first, otherwise the pain might kill him.” Scaerthrynne nodded to the boy, then quickly added, “I mean that as a figure of speech. You’re not actually going to die. It’ll probably hurt a lot, but she’ll give you something to numb the pain. That, or it’ll put you into a nice, deep sleep. Hard to tell what that stuff does to a person until it…” He trailed off as he swept his gaze over the boy’s arm again, this time his brows furrowing. There were no abrasions. No other bruises, not even a scratch.

In fact, now that Scaerthrynne looked at him from head-to-toe again, the boy wasn’t hurt anywhere else.

“Wait,” he said sharply, holding out a hand to stop Vallena. Something wasn’t right here. And that was very interesting. Without a word, and without caring for anyone else, for that matter, he hiked the boy’s trouser legs up, until the ankles were exposed. No redness. He pressed his fingers hard against each joint. There wasn’t any swelling, either. “Vallena, check his other arm and the back of his head for swelling, abrasions, or cuts.” He gave the order swiftly.

“Got it.”

Scaerthrynne looked up from the boy at their surroundings. The top deck was a wide, open space, and the boy was lying far from the bulwarks. It was thus reasonable to assume that he had broken his arm around this same area. But unless the boy had a habit of running full tilt into everything arm-first, Scaerthrynn saw nothing that could explain how he could break a limb.

“Nothing, Scratch,” Vallena reported. “What is it? What’re you thinking?”

A smile crept over Scaerthrynne’s face, and he turned to the boy. “Congratulations, boy,” he said. “I hereby pronounce you as the oldest person I’ve ever diagnosed with brittle-bone disease. I’m personally amazed that you haven’t accidentally killed yourself, or gotten killed yet. I hope you don’t have any grand ambitions or dreams, though, because you’re probably not going to realise any of them. That, or I hope your parents love you very, very much, because you won’t be able to do much of anything at all.” Startled murmurs and shocked gasps rippled through the crowd.

“Scratch!” Vallena exclaimed. “What’re you–”

“What? It’s the only explanation for how a limb could break for no reason.” Scaerthrynne waved his hands over the boy’s body. “He has no other bruises, no cuts, no abrasions. I don’t know about anyone here, but a force hard enough to break a bone would likely throw a boy of this size hard enough to leave some other mark on his body. His ankles are perfectly fine, which means he didn’t trip. He has no other wounds on his arms, which means if he fell, he has the reflexes of a snail and didn’t even try to protect himself.” He wiped his hands on his trousers. “So if he didn’t trip, didn’t fall on his face, and didn’t fall on his back, then I really struggle to find a reason as to why his arm, and only his arm, would break.”

His smile widened as he met the boy’s gaze. “But then again, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you don’t have the disease. Because you see, brittle-bone disease weakens the bones, but it does nothing to dampen pain. A boy breaks an arm, and yet doesn’t scream, doesn’t yell, and doesn’t cry for attention? That’s a very, very strange thing indeed. A very interesting thing. I might even say that it’s an unnatural thing.”

Scaerthrynne paused to look at the faces in the crowd, then the man kneeling by the boy, then the woman cradling his arm, and then finally, at the boy himself. “You didn’t break your arm,” Scaerthrynne stated with a self-satisfied smile, the sort he reserved for when he figured out a puzzle. “Someone broke it. And I think that someone is still here with us, or it hasn’t been long since they left. Am I right?”




Location: Engine control room adjacent to Engine Core
Race: Dark Elf & Human
Class: Artificer & Rogue
Equipment:
Attire:
Gold: 30
Injuries:


Tick. Tick. Tick.

Scaerthrynne flicked his eyes over to the clock sitting near the edge of his workbench. Its long hand jerked across its face, dragging its shorter companion forward with every revolution. His brows arched. Time was running out, and still Vallena had yet to return. She was late. Very late – he had expected her to be back a few hundred ticks ago, but he wasn’t concerned. If anything, he was amused. The ghost of a smile tugged on his lips. He was going to have a very interesting conversation with the girl later.

But for now, he had more important things that required his focus.

He reached over and turned the clock to better face him before looking down at the partially-disassembled pistol laying on his workbench. The plate covering its lock had been removed. It, along with the six screws that had held it in place, now sat on a thin rubber mat beside the pistol. Scaerthrynne’s shoulders hunched as he brought his face closer to the weapon, peering into the cavity carved out of the stock, at the intricate mechanism within. Soot blackened every gear, latch, and spring, but only in a fine, dusty later.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It was a sign that the pistol was due for a cleaning, but it wasn’t so dirty that Scaerthrynne thought it worth worrying over. He slowly turned the weapon, scrutinising every minute part, looking between every minute gap, his wine-red eyes narrowed in concentration. The weapon had presented with a heavier-than-normal trigger pull, and there had been a slight delay between depressing the trigger all the way, and the hammer snapping forward. That suggested problems with the physical linkages within the trigger group. And that in turn meant that he could ignore the firing mechanism itself.

Good. That narrowed things down.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Another glance at the clock. Not much longer, now.

Chewing on his lip, he looked around the benchtop for a pair of pliers. He found one still lodged within one of the old pieces of machinery – an arcane regulator – he had been scavenging for parts before his official duties had called him away. He tapped his index finger on the benchtop, in time with the clock’s ticks. That had been almost a month ago, and he had been kept busy enough since then to have forgotten about it up until now. He made a note to recover the runic circuit by today. That would be the trickiest, and so also the most interesting part to extract from the regulator.

With a bit of effort, and a lot of jiggling, he pulled the pliers free. As if on cue, a shudder rippled through the floor. He froze in place, body still leaned over the benchtop and fingers pinched on the pliers, and let out a frustrated huff. Such incidents weren’t uncommon aboard an airship, but they always were annoying when they interrupted his work. Very slowly, he sat back in his seat and covered the pistol’s exposed mechanism with a hand. The engines whirred, almost screaming as their whines rose high above the ambient thumps and rumbles of machinery that surrounded Scaerthrynne here in the engine room. Everything shook. From the way his stomach floated, Scaerthrynne knew that the airship had dropped a fair distance. Then, it rose again. It had wandered into a pocket of low pressure, it seemed.

The shuddering gradually lessened, and then it died out entirely. Scaerthrynne immediately spun around in his seat, running his eyes over the wall of gauges directly opposite his workbench. He paid no attention to the ones related to elemental and arcane components – his ears had told him that the problem was strictly mechanical. The engines’ whines were quieting to dull drones, but Scaerthrynne managed to find the four gauges he needed – the ones for engine temperatures and driveshaft speeds – before everything returned to normal. All had their needles twitching dangerously close to their absolute limits.

Scaerthrynne frowned. That wasn’t normal. Not after such a brief period of increased stress.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

He shook his head and returned his attention to the pistol. It was almost a certainty that the engines’ Runic Autonomous Control Interfaces – or rackkies, as he liked to call them – were faulty. Either crossed circuits or malfunctioning runes doing something they shouldn’t were causing the rackkies to transfer far too much power from the engines to the driveshafts. That made them spin faster than usual, which in turn resulted in more friction, and thus more heat. It wasn’t too major an issue; so long as the airship remained at cruising speed and didn’t push the engines too hard, Scaerthrynne could wait until they were docked to crack open the engines and either replace or repair the necessary components.

Simple explanation, simple fix. And neither at all interesting.

Very carefully, he picked apart the pistol’s trigger group with the pliers. He placed each piece on the rubber in neat, orderly rows. There wasn’t much need for him to dismantle the weapon to such an extent for what he sought, but he found it good practice. It would also give Vallena something to work on, later.

With speed borne from experience, he soon wiggled the trigger spring free from its mounting pins. He held it between his thumb and index finger and gave it a squeeze. To him, its stiffness felt right – just enough to hold the trigger in place, but not so much that pulling it was a chore. But he could see how, to a young girl, it might be a little too stiff. Replace it with a lighter, more pliable spring, and all would be well. Again, it was a simple solution to a simple problem. There wasn’t even any need for any creative machining. More likely than not, he already had such a spring sitting in a box of spares, somewhere.

Well, that was one problem taken care of. He placed the offending spring on the rubber mat and moved on to the next, the delayed hammer. This one was easy. There were only a few reasons why a hammer would be slow in action, and one of those reasons was, again, a faulty spring, albeit one that needed to be stiffer, rather than looser. But that didn’t seem likely – the trigger and hammer worked in tandem, so it was typical for both springs to lose tension at roughly the same time, so if the trigger spring was still stiff, then it didn’t make much sense for the hammer spring to be otherwise.

Another possibility was rust physically slowing the mechanism, but Scaerthrynne quickly dismissed it after a cursory examination of the parts. They were dirty, but definitely nothing more. He would never allow any weapon of his – or Vallena’s, for that matter – to be poorly maintained enough to become rusted.

That only left one other reason. He examined the linkages between the trigger and firing mechanisms, and found his answer. The notch in the shear plate – a metal sheet which held the hammer in place until it was time for it to snap forward – was cut just a touch too deep. Pulling the trigger didn’t release the hammer as much as it simply put it in position to slip free. A new shear plate would do the trick.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick–

The clock’s alarm went off, a shrill ring made all the shriller by the engine room’s enclosed space. Its brass walls threw the sound between each other, like children with a ball, making it grow louder and sharper with each pass.

Scaerthrynne allowed the alarm to go on for a while before reaching over to grab the clock before it rattled itself off the workbench. He turned a dial on its back to silence it and placed it back on the benchtop. Then, he took some time to arrange the pliers and pistol neatly, as well as to straighten the rows of parts lying on the rubber mat. He even wiped his hands clean on his dark brown coat, and brushed strands of white hair away from his brow. If he was going to discipline a child, he may as well look proper doing it. “Vallena.” His measured voice echoed through the room. “Time’s up. You can come out now.”

The sound of hurried footsteps drifted through the floor. Scaerthrynne turned in his seat just in time to see a skinny arm push a hatch up and open further down the room. With several grunts, Vallena hauled herself through the compact hole in the floor. The goggles sitting on her head was askew, as was the tail she had pulled her dark, wavy hair into. “I couldn’t find it, Scratch,” she said, kicking the hatch shut. “Sorry, but we’ll have to tell the Captain to get another…Another one of those manifold thingies.”

“And by we, you mean me,” Scaethrynne said, meeting her sheepish smile with a small one of his own. He spied the frayed, dirty edges of a bandage peeking from under the right sleeve of her shirt. “Grab that and come here,” he said and flicked his eyes over to a stool standing by the wall of gauges. “And let me take a look at that arm of yours.”

Vallena dragged the stool over. “It’s fine, really,” she said as she sat down. “You don’t have to look at it.”

“I could do that.” Scaerthrynne half-turned and plucked a satchel from a hook riveted into the wall over the workbench. He turned back around, set it on his lap, and extended a hand towards Vallena. “Or you could do as you’re told and let me take a look at that arm of yours.”

She grumbled something beneath her breath, but rolled up her sleeve anyway and held her forearm out to him. He took it by the wrist and pulled it closer to him, and thus pulled a surprised squeak from her as well when she almost fell forward into him. “Come closer,” he said. Vallena shifted in the stool, its legs scraping loudly against the floor as she moved it with her weight. Scaerthrynne frowned as he took note of the dark splotches on the bandage. “I remember telling you to be careful with this, and I definitely remember telling you to keep it away from anything wet.”

“I did!” Vallena exclaimed quickly. Then, she saw what he was looking at and averted her eyes. “I-I mean, I tried…” she mumbled and looked down at her lap. “It was two days ago, I was trying to refill engine three’s lubricating oil and I guess I accidentally splashed some on me. It wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”

Scaerthrynne sighed. “Look at me, Val.” She did, and he flicked her between the eyes with a finger.

“Ow!” Vallena yelped and pressed her left hand to her forehead.

“Oh, stop it. You and I both know that didn’t hurt.” Scaerthrynne rolled his eyes as he undid the knot holding the bandage in place and carefully unwrapped it. Aside from the oil stains, and the odd patch of dust and dirt, there weren’t any other stains. Particularly, no red stains. That was good. “I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose,” he said as he unrolled layer after layer of linen. “You’re not…Well, you’re not that stupid. You just have terrible judgement. If I tell you to stay away from liquids, and you have to move something that is a liquid, like engine oil, for example, then I expect you to ask me for help.”

Vallena swung her heels against the stool’s legs. “I didn’t want to disturb you, is all. I know you don’t like it when you’re disturbed.”

“I don’t like being disturbed unnecessarily,” Scaerthrynne corrected her. He peeled back the last layer of the bandage, revealing a long, angry red patch running along the outside of Vallena’s forearm. Its edges were dry and jagged, whilst a few spots in the middle still glistened under the engine room’s yellow light. “I don’t know, Val, but this doesn’t seem unnecessary to me.”

“Okay, Scratch,” Vallena said and tried to pull her arm back. He didn’t let her. She groaned. “Aw, come on, Scratch! It’s not that serious!”

“It’s still wet,” he said. “Which means it’s still healing, which means that yes, it is that serious.” He reached into the satchel and fished out a small vial of a clear liquid – sagerose spirit – and a cotton swab. Keeping a firm grip on Vallena’s wrist, he picked up the vial with his free hand and uncorked it with his teeth. Then, he wetted the swab with its contents before placing it on the bench.

Vallena winced in anticipation of what was to come. “That stuff stings!”

“Should’ve thought of that before being careless around steam pipes, Val,” Scaerthrynne replied. He glanced up from the wound at her. “You’ll be fine,” he said, the edges around his words noticeably softer, his tone a touch gentler. He rubbed his thumb over her wrist and up to her palm. “This isn’t anything we haven’t done dozens of times before, Val, and you’ve been doing fine so far. I’ll be quick as always, so don’t worry about a thing, alright?”

Vallena bit her lip and looked at him. She nodded. “Alright. I trust you, Scratch.”

“I know you do,” he replied. He tilted his head, taking another look at the wound before pressing the swab against it. Vallena flinched and drew a sharp breath through her teeth. Scaerthrynne ignored her, as he did when her arm tensed. Moving quickly, he traced the wound’s edges before spiralling inwards with frequent and gentle taps. He repeated the process a few more times, wetting the swab with more sagerose spirit as necessary, making sure he cleaned every last inch of the wound. Vallena looked away, her mouth clamped shut and eyes squeezed tight, all throughout the process. Only the kicking of her legs and a hissed breath every so often gave away her discomfort.

“Good girl,” Scaerthrynne said at last, tossing the swab onto the workbench. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Vallena nodded hesitantly. “So…Is it all done?”

“Nope,” Scaerthrynne replied without missing a beat. He dug his hand back into the satchel and pulled out a fresh roll of bandages. “And you know it’s not. We’ve to wrap it back up.”

She looked at the bandages, then at him. “Can’t you leave it open? It gets so itchy sometimes and it drives me crazy that I can’t scratch myself. The wound’s almost healed, too! I remember reading somewhere that wounds can heal better if you don’t wrap them up all the time.”

“So you have been reading. Interesting.” Scaerthrynne placed the roll at the top of her wound and unrolled it towards her wrist, covering the length of it with a single strip. Vallena grumbled, but didn’t resist. He then coiled it back up her arm. “You’re not wrong, Val. That is a popular idea in some parts of the world, and I’d be willing to give it a try if we didn’t spend most of our time in an airship’s engine room. But unfortunately, we do spend most of our time in an airship’s engine room, and engine rooms are…” He trailed off. Vallena looked at him expectantly, and he stopped what he was doing to look back at her. “Engine rooms are…?”

“Oh!” She took a moment to think. “They are…Dirty?”

“Good.” Scaerthrynne nodded and continued to dress her arm. “And if your wound gets dirty…?”

“It can get infected?”

“And when wounds get infected…?”

“They can rot?”

“And what happens if they start to rot?”

Vallena shifted uncomfortably, looking at her bandaged arm. “Then…Then we have to amputate?”

“Exactly,” Scaerthrynne said. His lips pulled into a smirk. “And while I know that there’re plenty of amputee characters in the books you love so much, you’ll find that they’re all missing legs. Not arms.” A blush crept over Vallena’s cheeks as she looked at him with surprise on her face. Scaerthrynne kept a straight look as he met her gaze, his brows arched. “Captain Quinnan Fair, corsair extraordinaire? Sky pirate who goes on plenty of adventures but does very little actual pirating? Accompanied sometimes by Aedalynn Scamall, or Senna Tache? Personally, I think Aedalynn’s a better fit for Quinnan, even if it’s clear that the author wants us to support pairing him off with Senna. I can see why, but I think their personalities are just too–”

“Y-You knew?” Vallena squeaked. Scaerthrynne simply smiled at her. “But-But how–”

“You’ve been reading them when you should’ve been studying,” he said with a grin. “Face it, Val, you can’t sneak things by me that easily.”

“What do you mean?”

Scaerthrynne didn’t reply immediately, instead taking his time wrapping another layer of bandages around Vallena’s arm. The girl whined and nudged him with the toe of her boot, but he ignored her. “Well,” he said slowly when he finally deigned to respond. “I noticed you reading the texts I gave you rather intently these past few weeks, and it got me curious. You see, I distinctly remember handing you this airship’s operations manual and a few engineering and medical treatises. Dry stuff, to be honest, and yet you seemed to be so captivated by them that you were reading them every day for hours at a time.”

Vallena huffed. “W-Well, what if I was? You should be proud!”

He shrugged. “Maybe you were, for the engineering and medical stuff, but I know for a fact that you hadn’t been reading the airship manual. You were on the same few pages for days on end, and that either means you can’t actually read, in which case I’ll have to admit that you’ve fooled all these years, or you’re reading something else behind the manual.”

“O-Or maybe I was re-reading it!”

Scaerthrynne scratched his chin, as if considering the possibility. “That does sound possible,” he mused in a serious tone. A look of satisfaction grew on Vallena’s face and she huffed triumphantly. “Remind me, that thing I sent you down there to find, what was it again?”

“You mean…The…” Vallena’s face scrunched as she thought hard. “The…Type two-ten runic manifold?”

“Ah yes, that thing,” Scaerthrynn confirmed with a nod. “The funny thing is, the type two-ten is specific to a unique engine, the Thurri type two-seven-nine. This airship was built with those engines, but most users of the two-seven-nine had them replaced…A year or so ago, I believe, when it was discovered that a severe defect with their elemental-mechanical interface unit would lead to catastrophic failure under high load. It’s riveting stuff. I have a copy of the article if you’re interested. Anyway, what that means is that this airship’s not using the two-seven-nine, and so it wouldn’t make any sense for us to have a type two-ten manifold in our storeroom.”

“But you told me–”

“Intentionally wrong information,” Scaerthrynne cut in.

“So it was–”

“A test.”

Vallena’s face fell. Her shoulders sagged. “And I–”

“Failed.” Scaerthrynne spoke that word as a cold, unforgiving fact. “You should’ve called me an idiot when I asked for a two-ten. That, or you shouldn’t have spent so much time down there searching for something that doesn’t exist.” He paused to tie the loose ends of the bandage into a knot. “Anyway, going back to the original question, I saw the books in your bag the other day and everything fell into place.” He finally let go of her arm. Vallena pulled it back and held it close to her chest.

“Sorry, Scratch,” she said in a small voice. “I tried to study, I really did! But I–”

Scaerthrynne stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Save your apologies for when you’re older. That’s when you’ll really need them.” She looked away. He sighed. With eyes the colour of blood, and a face that wasn’t exactly the friendliest sight, or even just an approachable one, Scaerthrynne wasn’t unaccustomed to people averting their gaze when speaking to him. Vallena was amongst the few who usually didn’t, and only did when she was well-and-truly apologetic, ashamed, or both. “You’re still a child, Val. That gives you an excuse to be stupid. Enjoy that while you still can.”

“Hey!” Vallena protested, snapping her head around to look at him. “I thought you said I wasn’t stupid.”

“No, I said you weren’t that stupid,” Scaerthrynne replied. Vallena started to argue, but he quieted her with a raised hand. “But you’ve got it in you to be smart, I’ll say that much.”

That got a smile out of her, and Scaerthrynne found it hard not to smile with her. “You mean it?”

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

Vallena ran her fingers through her hair. “And…Does that mean I’m not in trouble?”

“In your dreams.” Scaerthrynne’s response was immediate. Vallena whined. “But don’t get it wrong. I’m not punishing you for reading. I like what you’re reading, too. They’re nice. And I’m not punishing you for trying to hide it from me, too, although I’m quite confused why you felt the need to. What I am punishing you for, though, is that you didn’t learn even the most basic information about this airship. We’re engineers. What engines this airship is using should be the first things we know about it.”

“Yes, Scratch.” Vallena frowned as she rolled her sleeve back down.

“Good, with that out of the way…” Scaerthrynne stood up from his chair and beckoned for Vallena to come closer. “Sit,” he told her, and she did. “I’ve already taken apart your pistol,” he explained, sweeping a hand over the benchtop. “And I’ve even arranged everything neatly for you. The heavy trigger pull can be solved with a new trigger spring, and the delayed hammer stems from a problem in a shear plate. That’s as much as I’ll tell you. You know where we keep the spares, right?”

Vallena settled into the chair, looking over everything with furrowed brows. “I think–”

“Perfect.” Scaerthrynne picked up the clock. It clicked loudly as he manipulated its dial. “You have an hour, then I’ll be back to check on your work. Remember the issues you told me you had with it. I expect them to be fixed, and the weapon reassembled to satisfaction.”

“And what’ll you be doing, Scratch?” Vallena looked at him over her shoulder.

“Reading your books, what else?” Scaerthrynne grinned at her. And even though Vallena was being punished, she still giggled. “I wasn’t joking when I said they’re nice. I’m at the part where they’re fighting dark elves, too. Can't wait to find out which of my people they’re beating up next.”

FLASHBACK Sola 26: Part 1
Takes place between this post and this post






Time: Early Morning
Location: Coastal Regions south of Sorian / North of Felipina
Interactions:
Mentions:
Attire:



“Captain?”

Sjan-dehk awoke with a start. He snapped his eyelids open. Blinding light, stabbing his irises and painting his world a painful white, made him immediately regret that decision.

“There’s someone asking for you, Captain.”

Groaning, he hauled a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. So leaden were his muscles that even an action so simple felt like an arduous chore. It was as if he had spent the past few days bedridden, and was only now starting to move again. “Wait, Azwan,” he said groggily, his voice hoarse. Colourful, blurry spirals wriggled across his vision, the sort one got from staring at the sun for too long. He blinked several times to rid himself of them. Sunlight peeked through the narrow gaps between his fingers. It was bright. A little too bright. “By the Mother, how long was I out?”

Azwan hesitated a moment. “Thereabouts an hour, Captain.”

“A whole damn hour?” Sjan-dehk exclaimed, his voice cracking, and shot upright. Still addled by sleep, his head swam from the sudden motion. He let out another groan. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his brows with a thumb and index finger, and drew in a deep breath. Briney ocean air wafted up his nose. The slow rustle of breaking waves filled his ears. Far overhead, seabirds cawed and squawked. The swirling eddies within his skull calmed, then stilled. “Should’ve kicked me awake before even a quarter of that,” he grumbled and looked up. Azwan’s broad face, well-defined features, and impeccably shaved head looked back at him.

He cleared his throat and tugged at the collars of his tunics. “I-I thought you needed the rest, Captain,” he said sheepishly, his words trailing off into a mumble towards the end.

A sudden yawn took the place of whatever response Sjan-dehk had thought up. “Suppose you’re right,” he mumbled. And if he had to be perfectly honest, Azwan was absolutely right. Sjan-dehk was in dire need of rest. He had barely slept last night; events simply hadn’t allowed for much of it. For one, returning from the skirmish took far more time than expected – shifting winds pitted Sada Kurau against stiff headwinds for a vast majority of the trip – and so too did his duties ashore. Between changing his ship’s place of berth from the piers to the harbour’s bay, overseeing her repairs and end-of-day routines, and writing daily reports, he was left with just over three hours of sleep before he had to rise again.

And for two, it wasn’t as if he had been sleeping well in the first place. But at least he could be glad that he had been granted respite from the confusing dreams that had been plaguing him, last night. It was also his fault that he had such an early start to the day, he had to admit. After all, it was his idea to return to the site of the skirmish at daybreak.

He cleared his throat. “Suppose you’re right,” he repeated, louder and clearer this time, and turned to look towards the sea. Just in front of him, a line of men from his crew waded through the shallows with trousers rolled up to their knees, and sleeves to their elbows. They picked through debris – little more than charred splinters and tattered rags – drifting in with the flowing tides. Farther away, Sada Kurau waited, svelte form silhouetted against a bright, early morning sky, and flags fluttering in a gentle breeze. Her sails were furled and her yardarms brought to her deck, but Sjan-dehk knew that her crew were keeping a vigilant watch for any dangers, and were ready to prepare her for sail at a moment’s notice.

Everyone was hard at work. Work that came about from his orders. And what was he doing? Taking a nap on the beach. Ridiculous.

“But I’m not the one sweating my arse off or wetting my feet,” Sjan-dehk continued, sweeping his hat off of the ground beside him before standing up with a grunt. He brushed sand from his clothes, then hopped in place a few times to shake it free from his equipment. “And besides,” he went on, placing the hat securely atop his head and securing its chinstraps. “A good Captain shouldn’t rest before their crew, eh?”

“As you say, Captain,” Azwan replied. He cleared his throat. “My apologies, Cap–”

“No need,” Sjan-dehk cut him off with a wave. “If anyone should apologise, it’s me. Shouldn’t have been a grumpy cunt to you. Sorry about that.” Azwan flushed and started to say something, but Sjan-dehk cut him off again. “Mother alone knows all of us could do with more rest, but you know what they say. We rest only when we’re done.”

Azwan nodded slowly. “And…When will that be, Captain?”

“Mother alone knows,” Sjan-dehk replied with a grin. He clapped Azwan on the shoulder. “Anyway, let’s go see whoever’s asking for me before they die of old age. Lead the way, First Officer.”

Setting off at a measured pace, the pair marched up the beach, following the water’s edge. There wasn’t a need to rush; Sjan-dehk was certain of it. That Azwan had taken the time to personally rouse him, and that he had done so in such a gentle manner, was proof enough that whatever the situation was, it was neither dangerous nor urgent. Along the way, they passed more of Sada Kurau’s crew. A few, like the ones earlier, were sifting through flotsam. The rest brought hammers and chisels to larger pieces of wreckage that had beached themselves on hidden reefs and rocks. They chipped away at fire-blackened surfaces, revealing the unblemished wood underneath.

“What are they doing?” Sjan-dehk pointed to the latter group.

“Master Hai-shuun believes that they’re worth salvaging, Captain,” Azwan replied. “Waste wood for fires or material for non-essential repairs, I believe.”

Sjan-dehk nodded, then shrugged. Hai-shuun was Sada Kurau’s Master Carpenter, not him. If he believed that he could do something with these debris, then Sjan-dehk wasn’t going to argue. “And the stuff floating about?” Sjan-dehk went on to ask. “Anyone fish out anything interesting?”

“A few waterlogged ledgers, Captain,” Azwan said, sounding almost apologetic. “But nothing else.”

That came as neither a surprise nor a disappointment to Sjan-dehk. Even when he had first thought up the plan to search the wrecks of last night’s enemies for clues – be it about the missing privateer, or perhaps a reason for those three ships to be skulking around the coast in the first place – he had already known that he wouldn’t get much out of Sada Kurau’s two victims. Both had, after all, exploded in a rather spectacular manner, and the resulting flames would have surely burnt what remained to the keel. Waterlogged ledgers were already far more than what he had expected to recover.

“That’s good,” he said. “Separate the pages before drying them, if possible. If not, leave it until we’re back aboard Sada Kurau. Either Dai-sehk or Mursi should know what to do.”

“Aye, Captain. Underst–”

A yell from the shallows drew their attention. They turned, just in time to see a man leap away from what appeared to be a degloved section of a ship’s hull – the exterior strakes had been torn away, leaving the rib-like framing underneath exposed. “What’s going on?” Sjan-dehk shouted.

“Bloody crabs, Captain!” The man shouted back. “Cunt damn near sliced off my toe!”

Sjan-dehk chuckled and shook his head. Nothing to be worried about, then. “Well, get out of the water and see to your wounds if you’ve any,” he called out. “And someone recover his tools. Master Hai-shuun would have you lot dredge up the entire seabed to find them, otherwise.”

The man nodded, and with the support of another sailor, waddled onto the beach, much to the amusement of their fellows. Getting injured by a sea creature was part-and-parcel of life as a Jafin. Still, Sjan-dehk and Azwan stayed around to make sure that the wound wasn’t serious – it was nought but a cut that looked far worse than it actually was – and to ensure that the man was properly seen to, before moving on.

“Not too far, now, Captain,” Azwan said. “Apologies for the long walk, Captain. He walked right straight into our sentries at the edge of the security cordon.”

Sjan-dehk sighed. “It’s fine, Azwan. No need to apologise. Just means the cordon’s doing its job.”

They were nearing the edge of the beach. Patches of grass chequered the sand here, growing in lushness and denseness the farther away they were from Azwan and he, until they became a strip of grass sitting in front of a small copse of palm trees. “He’s just over there, Captain, in the shade.” The First Officer pointed towards, and into the treeline, just as they themselves passed under the thin, tapered shadow of a wreck’s bowsprit. Shorn ropes hung from the wooden pole, like strips of flesh clinging to bone. Beneath it, the keel sat half-buried in the sand. Barnacles, molluscs, and other marine growth mottled her bow with dark greys and pale greens.

Cynric and Recompense had done a fine job of disabling their opponent without annihilating them outright, although they had still punished her terribly. Much of the wreck’s starboard flank beneath the waterline had been shot away, and where there should be a rudder, sat only a splintered stub. Seawater flooded through these new openings, pushed in by the ebbing and flowing tides, and anchored her firmly against the rocks and mud of the shoals. Shouts and calls echoed from within her exposed bowels, accompanied by sounds of tools against wood and metal.

“Any luck with this one?” Sjan-dehk jerked his head towards the wreck.

Azwan shook his head. “Nothing yet either, Captain.”

“Nothing?” Now that was a disappointing surprise. A curious one, too. Surely, if the crew could find ledgers amidst flotsam, then this markedly intact carcass should be a treasure trove of salvage. They should have found some small items of import, at the very least.

“Aye, Captain.” A tinge of shame tinged Azwan’s words. “I have the crew sweeping her decks again, to be safe. Master Hai-shuun and the carpenters are taking apart her interior to search for hidden compartments and stashes, Captain.” He paused and coughed into a fist. “If I may, Captain–”

“You know you don’t have to ask, Azwan,” Sjan-dehk said. “I wouldn’t have you around if I didn’t want your opinion on things. Just speak your thoughts openly and plainly.”

That seemed to catch Azwan off-guard, and the First Officer remained silent for a moment longer. “As you say, Captain,” he said hesitantly. “I was just wondering if it might be possible that her crew threw her cargo overboard to lighten her. She couldn’t have remained afloat for long, otherwise, not with her lower hull shot through like that. Tidal action could’ve washed away whatever got left behind, Captain. She’s probably laid here for hours before we arrived.”

He paused again. “But that’s just my theory, Captain.”

“It’s a good theory,” Sjan-dehk remarked, nodding. There were some problems with it, of course – for one, any wave strong enough to do as Azwan suggested would have also been strong enough to either smash the wreck into pieces, or drag it out to sea – but it was still a plausible explanation as to why the crew were unable to recover anything of note from the wreck. And if nothing else, it was at least something Sjan-dehk could discuss with his First Officer. But, before he could share his opinions, the two of them stepped under the cooling shade of palm fronds, joining another group of men already loitering there.

Three of them were from Sada Kurau’s crew. They were armed with rifles, and held the weapons vertically, with hands wrapped around barrels and stocks resting on the sandy dirt by their feet. A sword-like bayonet extended from underneath each of their rifles’ muzzles, slender blades polished to a sheen. Steel helmets hung from their waistbelts, conical shapes making them look like small shields. “Captain’s on deck,” one of the sentries, a tall youth with skin tanned dark, announced loudly upon seeing Sjan-dehk and Azwan. The other two immediately stood to attention, holding their rifles flush against their legs.

“At ease,” Sjan-dehk said almost immediately. His attention was drawn towards the fourth man sitting on a boulder in the middle of the sentries. An old, battered bucket sat between the man’s legs, which were clad in trousers that had more patches than it did its original brown cloth. A vest of a similar colour draped from the man’s shoulders, open in front to reveal a scarred chest. The man looked up at Sjan-dehk, his wrinkled brows furrowed and eyes squinting.

“You the captain here?” He asked, rubbing his hand along a jaw covered in scraggly grey hair.

Sjan-dehk held up a hand, signalling the man to wait. He then looked at each of the sentries in turn. “Good work, you three. I’ll take it from here. You can go ahead and return to your duties…” Trailing off, he turned to Azwan with an inquiring look. “Unless you have something for them?”

“No, Captain.” Azwan shook his head. “You heard the Captain,” he said to the sentries. “To your posts.”

“Aye, First Officer, Captain,” the same tall youth from before said, holding a fist to his chest and bowing his head to Azwan, then to Sjan-dehk. The other two sentries similarly saluted both officers before all three of them marched away, heading further inland. Sjan-dehk waited for them to leave the copse. Then, he finally turned his attention back to the man.

“Yes, I am Captain here,” he said, replying to his question at last. “You ask for me. Why?”

The man snorted and wriggled a finger into his nose. “You sure know how to make an old man wait. By the Gods, I thought I’d see them before seeing you, Captain.” He slapped his hands on his knees and let out a long breath. “Look, I’ll get to the quick of it. Save us both time and trouble, eh? How long are you and your boys going to muck around here? It’s been nigh on two hours since you lot showed up, I’ll have you know, and the morning’s not getting any longer. There’s crabbing to be done, and it can’t be done once afternoon comes around, I’ll have you know.”

“Why not?” Sjan-dehk asked without even thinking.

“Well, it’s not bloody natural, is it?” The incredulous look on the man’s face, and his tone, made it seem as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Sjan-dehk didn’t think so – he couldn’t even see the barest hints of logic behind it – but neither did he have the time or desire to pursue the matter.

“We are still working,” Sjan-dehk said. “Will need more time. If you want to go find crabs, I will tell my crew to let you. They will not stop you. But you do not want that, then I apologise. Find other beach.”

“I’ll catch piss-fucking-all with you lot stomping through the shallows,” the man grumbled. He looked away, a pensive look on his well-creased face as he chewed on his lip. Then, his shoulders sagged as he sighed and shook his head. “Ah, Gods damn it. No use arguing with you lot. I may be an old bastard, but I’m sure as shite in a sty not a stupid one. Give a man a privateer’s flag and suddenly he thinks he’s got the biggest prick in all Caesonia.” He grabbed the bucket by the handle and stood up.

Sjan-dehk didn’t understand what he had said at the end, and so he offered a simple, “I apologise.”

“Bah, you can take that damn apology and–” The man cut himself off abruptly. “Ah, it is what it is. No point getting upset over things now. Besides, I’m not the daft idiot wasting his and his crew’s time. Whatever it is that you’re after, Captain, it’s long gone by now.” He started to walk away from Sjan-dehk and Azwan. “I’m sure as shite that those cunts from earlier left nothing in that wreck of yours. Went through the whole thing like soldiers through a whorehouse, they did.”

“Wait,” Sjan-dehk called after him. The man stopped and turned, his impatience clear on his face. “You say there were other people here? Before us? They also search this wreck?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” the man replied brusquely with arms crossed over his chest. Sjan-dehk fixed him with a stern glare. He glared back. Sjan-dehk then glanced at Azwan. The First Officer responded with a single nod and stepped into the man’s path. For a moment, the latter looked between the two Viserjantans. Then, he relented, but not before coughing up a glob of phlegm and spitting it on the ground. “Gods damn it, fine, I’ll tell you everything I know. The two of you can drop this ‘tough cunts’ bullshit.”

Sjan-dehk walked around to join Azwan. “You were here earlier, you say. Why? What did you see?”

“Gods help me, would it kill you to slow down?” The man glowered at Sjan-dehk, but nevertheless went on with his story. “To answer your first question, the crabbing hour starts early, I’ll have you know. I’m out here everyday before first light. That’s when it's best to catch the little bastards in their burrows. On a good day, I can easily fill two of these things, if I had another to fill.” He hefted the bucket. “Any road, to answer your second question, what I saw was what I’m seeing now. Daft idiots picking through shite washed up on the beach like pigeons with bread. Only difference is that you lot are privateers, and they were pirates.”

“How do you know?” Sjan-dehk asked. “That they are pirates?”

The man laughed derisively. “How could I not bloody know? Pirates these days like to fly their bloody flags all the damn time, as if they want to be found. They’re nothing like the ones I fought back in my day, I’ll have you know. No, back then, hunting pirates took actual skill. You had to learn how to spot them on sight and even by fucking smell, sometimes. You privateers these days have it easy, and yet somehow the lot of you still find ways to muck everything up more often than not.”

“How many were there? How many ships?” Sjan-dehk pressed on with his questions.

“I don’t know, maybe thirty? Forty?” The man shrugged. “I wasn’t bloody counting, I’ll have you know. But I did see their ships. Two sloops-of-war, maybe eighteen guns each. That should put their strength at a high of maybe two hundred, and a low of maybe a hundred-and-fifty.”

“And…You watch them all the time? Until they leave?”

“Are you bloody thick? Of course not. I don’t plan on dying to fucking pirates, I’ll have you know. I left when it was clear that they weren’t going to leave anytime soon.”

Sjan-dehk nodded slowly. “What else did you see?”

The man shrugged again. “They were looking for something, just like you lot, but I don’t think they found it, whatever it was.” Sjan-dehk urged him to elaborate with an expectant look. “They were arguing, there was some shouting, and it was clear that those cunts were upsets. There was a fight or two, but it was amateur nonsense. Nothing like the brawls the pirates back in my day used to have, I’ll have you know. Looked like a bunch of bloody noblegirls pulling each other’s hair.”

“And…Which way did they go, you think?”

“Well, unless they planned to turn themselves in for being some of the worst pirates to ever sail Aquana’s bountiful bosom, I don’t think they’d go north to Sorian.”

“South, then?” Sjan-dehk asked.

“Or east. How should I know?” The man scowled. “Now, can I bloody go?”

“Wait a while,” Sjan-dehk replied. He turned to Azwan. “Did you understand all that?”

“I understood enough, Captain,” the First Officer replied. “What are your orders?”

“Before that, why don’t you tell me what you make of this, First Officer?”

Azwan looked at Sjan-dehk, his features creased in puzzlement, as if he hadn’t quite understood what had been asked of him. When his Captain said nothing, and merely met his gaze with a raised brow, however, he cleared his throat and spoke. “I don’t think he’s lying,” he began, uncertainty in his voice. “The crew did find crabs in the shallows, so his reason for coming here makes sense, I think. And his story about pirates salvaging the wreck would explain why our crew couldn’t find anything.”

“Good. And what do you suppose we should do?”

Azwan furrowed his brows. “I-I wouldn’t tell you what to do, Captain, but I think we should sail south. They wouldn't have gone north, and it might be best if we assumed that they didn't find anything and continued southwards on their search. If they went eastwards, they would've sailed into open water and could've ended up anyway, Captain." He grimaced. "But they have quite a headstart, Captain. I'm not sure if Sada Kurau can catch them."

Sjan-dehk considered his words for a moment before nodding and flashing him a grin. “Very well done, Azwan. Speak with confidence in future, eh? You've a damn fine Captain's mind. We just need to get you the proper demeanour and you'll be set to haunt the seas on your own ship." He turned to look at the beach, at his crew still picking through flotsam and debris. They were strung out in a long, ragged line all along the coast, with most gathered around, or on the wreck of Recompense's victim. “How long do you need to get them back to Sada Kurau?”

“An hour at most, Captain,” Azwan replied. “Maybe three-quarters of that, if the tides are in our favour.”

“An hour is good,” he said. “Organise that, if you please. I'll finish up here and return to Sada Kurau ahead of you to get her ready for sail. Once everyone’s back aboard, we will weigh anchor. I want us to get moving in an hour’s time, at the very least. Quarter past that, at most. You’re right about their headstart, but Sada Kurau won’t let them slip away that easily. At the very least, let’s see if we can’t find out where they went.”

Azwan nodded. "Aye, Captain," he replied, the excitement showing through just those two words, and in the purpose in his steps as he marched away from the copse and back onto the beach.

Sjan-dehk turned back to the man. “Apologies,” he said. “We will go now. Give us one hour, please.”

The man scratched his jaw. “Gods help me, you’re going out hunting for them, aren’t you?” Although his well-creased face didn't show it, the disbelief in his words were palpable, and the glint in his dull eyes betrayed his approval. Sjan-dehk's eyes similarly showed his surprise, but before he could say anything, the man cut him off with a harrumph and a wave of his hand. "Before you start thinking all sorts of nonsense, I didn't understand a damn thing between the two of you, but I've sailed long enough to know the look sailors get when they're...When we're about to go looking for a fight, and I swear by Triumpheus' shiny arse, the two of you aren't even trying to bloody hide it."

A smile graced his cracked lips, the first since Sjan-dehk had met him. He wiped a hand on his trousers before extending it. "Captain Maxwylle Trellawney. Captain of the Duke of Montague, Royal Caesonian Navy, as was." Sjan-dehk accepted it and gave it a firm shake. "Sorry about earlier, Captain. It's not often...Well, it hasn't been the case that anyone would do anything about pirates like these, not in recent days. I've not seen hide or tail of a serious privateer or even the Gods-damned navy in bloody ages, I'll have you know. It'd take a raid on Sorian itself to get them to do anything, I'll bet both my wrinkled balls on that." He stepped back and looked Sjan-dehk up and down, almost as how a senior officer would with a new recruit. "But Gods help me, it pleases my old Captain's heart to find a bloody lunatic who'd go chasing after pirates hours after they've fucked off. Brings me back to the good old days when I was the one on the hunt, I'll have you know."

"That is what we should do, yes?" Sjan-dehk replied plainly. All this praise for doing what he saw as an obligation was, in truth, making him quite uncomfortable.

"I fucking wish that was the case, but no, it bloody isn't," Maxwylle countered with a snort. "Not been for a long time, now, so you can stop with that Gods-damned humility, take the Gods-damned compliment, and be on your Gods-damned way. You'll want to head south." The lackadaisical tone from earlier was gone, as was his slovenly mannerisms. Sjan-dehk could easily imagine him at the head of a planning table, giving instructions to junior officers. "My eyes aren't what they used to be, but I'll scoop them both out myself with a spoon if those pirating cunts aren't sailing old Windward-class sloops. They were built tough, but they were too damn slow to be of any use, so the navy sold the bloody lot. An eastward course would have them sailing in reaches, and the Windwards never were good at that, so if these pirates have anything between their ears, they'll be going south to take advantage of the morning southerlies. They wouldn't have gotten far, so I'd bet my cock that you can catch them. But if it comes to a fight, don't bloody try to outlast them. Their hulls are thicker than your average noble's skull. Just out-sail them and you'll be grand."

Sjan-dehk blinked and nodded slowly. That was far more information than what he had expected, or could have asked for. "You have my thanks," he said, hoping that such simple words, spoken when such halting speech and clumsy pronunciation, would still be able to convey the full extent of his gratitude. Such knowledge could only come from someone with a wealth of experience sailing and fighting upon the seas, and could easily mean the difference between success or failure, or even between a premature visit to the Abyss-Keeper and seeing another sunset. "We will make good use of this, I promise."

"If you want to thank me, just send one of them down to the bottom for old Trellawney, eh?" Maxwylle grinned and clapped Sjan-dehk on the shoulder. "Stay safe out there and good hunting."

Sjan-dehk chuckled. "Only one?" He asked. Tipping his hat towards the older man, he grinned and said, "You ask too little. I will send two."



It didn’t take much effort for Sada Kurau to track the pirates. The scattered trail of flotsam her prey had left in their wakes made following their southerly course a task far easier done than said, as did the terror they had visited upon the coast along the way.

Standing on his ship’s quarterdeck, Sjan-dehk’s lips were drawn into a grim line, and his brows creased in unease, as he gazed across the narrow stretch of water separating Sada Kurau from shore, and at a small hamlet sprawled upon the rocky beach. Even without a spyglass, it was clear that the settlement had been attacked recently, and terribly so. Smoke curled in wisps from torched buildings. Some remained standing as half-destroyed ruins, whilst others had been reduced to little more than heaps of charred timber. People shambled aimlessly through the debris, their faces blank, their movements slow. A handful picked through debris. Others wept over corpses left on the ground. None of them seemed to care about Sada Kurau.

Sjan-dehk tightened his grip on her gunwale, his jaw set. The pirates had come through here, there wasn’t any doubt about that, and it hadn’t been long since they left, if the darkness of the smoke and the lingering embers in the ruins were anything to go by. Sada Kurau couldn’t be more than two hours behind them.

“Still two hours too late,” he muttered angrily beneath his breath. Deep in his heart, he knew that it couldn’t have been possible for him to have caught the pirates here. They had too much of a lead, and as quick as Sada Kurau was, she wasn’t one of those arcane vessels that existed in myths. That she had managed to get here in as little time as she had taken was miraculous enough.

But that didn’t stop Sjan-dehk from admonishing himself. “Too fucking late,” he grumbled.

“Did you say something, Captain?” Azwan asked from behind.

Sjan-dehk shook his head. “Just talking to myself. Nothing to worry about.”

“Master Dai-sehk would disagree, I think,” Azwan said and joined Sjan-dehk at the gunwale.

“He disagrees with many things,” Sjan-dehk replied with a mirthless chuckle. “I suppose that’s what makes him such a good surgeon.”

“As you say, Captain.”

For a moment, neither man said anything more. The two of them simply looked at the ruined hamlet, at the sobering sight of its wrecked buildings and shell-shocked people. Azwan shifted uncomfortably, his face as grim as Sjan-dehk’s, but with shades of grief and reminiscence in his features. After what felt like eons, he finally spoke. “Master Hai-shuun has examined the flotsam we fished out of the water, Captain.”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “Good. What does he think?”

“Pieces of crates and barrels, planks that he believes are used for repair work,” Azwan replied. Sjan-dehk threw him a sidelong glance with a raised brow. The First Officer cleared his throat and went on in a voice that was markedly less confident. “I-It looks like they’re jettisoning rubbish and supplies they believe to be unnecessary, Captain. Might be that they’re making space for plunder, or trying to increase speed.” Again, Sjan-dehk said nothing and simply looked at Azwan. “I would continue along the coast, Captain,” the First Officer concluded. “W-with our speed, we might be able to catch them, still.”

“Well done,” Sjan-dehk said, nodding and patting Azwan on the back. “We’ll make a damn fine captain out of you, yet. But for now, bring us three points to larboard handsomely and make distance between us and shore. We’ll continue tracing the coast at full sail.” He looked at the hamlet again, and his face turned grim once more. He chewed on his lip. “And have the crew beaten to quarters. Everyone at their stations, guns loaded and ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Have lookouts search the coast for any signs of our friends, but I want them to keep an eye on the horizon as well, just to be safe.”

“Aye, Captain.” Azwan nodded. Then, he turned towards the hamlet as well. “What about them, Captain?”

That was one question Sjan-dehk had hoped he wouldn’t have to answer. He chewed on his lip, his brows furrowed in thought. More than anything, he wanted to send his crew ashore to help those people in some way or other, even if it was just to give them what little Sada Kurau could afford to give. But there he knew that there wasn’t any time for such altruism. Every moment spent here, and not on the chase, was another moment the pirates had to slip away. And letting them escape could very well mean allowing other hamlets or villages or settlements to suffer a similar fate.

“Who’s the duty scribe this morning?” Sjan-dehk asked.

“Yayansha, Captain. I think he’s below decks, completing this morning’s logs. Shall I call for him?”

Sjan-dehk shook his head. “No, no need. Belay my earlier orders. I will handle things on deck. You instead will go to my quarters, get the maps of local waters, and bring them to Yayansha. From here on out, I want every attacked settlement we come across, as well as this one–” he pointed to the hamlet “–to be marked on our maps and added to the log with both absolute and relative positions, and details of the attack. That means what we see, what we believed happened, and what we did, if we did anything at all. Find Adnash, he’s good at drawing maps, and have him make copies of everything Yayansha makes. We’ll give those to the privateers when we return to Sorian. See if they can be convinced to send anyone to lend a hand.”

Azwan nodded. “Aye, Captain. Yayansha to annotate our maps, Adnash to make copies of them.”

“Let’s get this–” Sjan-dehk began, but something caught his eye. Or rather, someone – a young woman on the beach. Her threadbare dress was tattered at the hem, and her hands were dark with blood. She stood over a mangled corpse, tears cutting rivulets down a face dusted with dirt and grime. Red, puffy eyes, blue irises, and a despairing gaze looked towards Sada Kurau. Sjan-dehk met it for only a moment, felt it pierce him to his soul, before he couldn’t hold it any longer. He averted his eyes.

“I’d give them what we could if we had the time.” His voice was low, and tinted with shame. Whether those words were aimed at himself, at Azwan, or even at Sada Kurau, he didn’t know. They just had to be said.

“I know, Captain. We all do.” The First Officer cleared his throat and awkwardly patted his shoulder. “We’ll do our duties, Captain, and catch those pirates before they can do this again.”

Sjan-dehk drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Aye, we certainly will,” he said firmly. When he looked back at the beach, the woman was gone, but the body was still there. Sjan-dehk straightened his back, pressed his fist to his chest, and gave them – the body, the woman, and the hamlet – a quick bow of his head. “The Mother knows her own, even if they know not her. May she bring them peace.” Sjan-dehk wasn't a devout man by any stretch of the imagination, but he only had such words – meaningless as they were – to offer.

Then, he turned to Azwan. “To our duties, First Officer.”

Sada Kurau passed three more settlements after leaving the hamlet. With each, it became more and more evident that the pirates’ patience was wearing dangerously thin. They no longer razed buildings – that took far too much time for too little reward, Sjan-dehk figured – and instead vented their frustrations on hapless villagers. The coast was lined with corpses. Most appeared to have been shot, but there were more than a few who swung from trees and makeshift gallows. Men and women; the young and the old; the pirates had spared no one. And from what Sjan-dehk could see through a spyglass, for some, death had been but the last of a series of depravities visited upon them.

To see such devastation, and to know that the perpetrators were just beyond reach, weighed heavily upon Sjan-dehk’s shoulders. How many more would have to suffer? How many more had to die before he could finally catch up to the pirates? These questions were familiar to him. He had asked them before, and thus he knew that they served only to demoralise him, to infect his spirit with hopelessness.

And yet, he clung onto them, for he also knew that those same questions, and that same weight, was what galvanised him. It was what pushed him. No matter how many the pirates killed, no matter how far or how speedily they sailed, Sada Kurau would catch them, and she would punish them dearly. There could be no other way. Sjan-dehk took in the despair, and tempered it with his resolve, until it transformed into tranquil, righteous fury. And he knew his crew did the same, for by the time Sada Kurau found her quarries, a steely, solemn silence had descended upon her decks, interrupted only by the most necessary calls.

The two pirate vessels sat in a line, almost bow-to-stern, and just off the coast of a village that appeared to be on the cusp of being a town. The main road running from square to shore was paved, and a majority of its buildings were built from stone and tile. Its population, however, was still small enough for the pirates to corral everyone in the square. At least, Sjan-dehk couldn’t see movement elsewhere in the village through his spyglass. “They outnumber us,” he said matter-of-factly.

“We shoot faster, Captain, and straighter,” Mursi replied from beside him. The Master of Arms stood with a smoking pipe cradled in one hand, and the other on the gunwale. His head of black hair was in a mess, as it usually was, and his clothes were stained with gun oil and lubricant, as they usually were.

“That, we do,” Sjan-dehk muttered. He continued watching the events in the square. An argument seemed to be developing between an elderly man and one of the pirates. The two gesticulated wildly to each other, whilst armed men walked down a line of kneeling villagers, stopping at random. “Looks like they’re asking questions,” Sjan-dehk continued. The argument became more heated, until the pirate drew a pistol. “Don’t do it, you bastard.”

The old man stepped back, his hands raised in front of him, but it was no use. A single shot, a small puff of smoke, and he fell where he stood like a collapsed sail. “Fuck,” Sjan-dehk spat, lowering the spyglass. He had seen enough. “Well, they either don’t see us, or they don’t think of us as a threat.” He shook his head, then pointed at the two ships. “We’ll prove them wrong. I want those bastards gone. We’ll sail in and rake them with our starboard battery, then loop around and hit them with the larboard. Mursi, what do our guns have in their chambers?”

“Solid shot, Captain.”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “Hit them with that first, but reload the larboard battery with explosive shells. No matter what happens, we must eliminate them with those two passes. Otherwise, it’ll get messy.”

“It’ll be done, Captain,” Mursi said and marched off to the gun deck.

“Azwan,” Sjan-dehk called out and turned to the First Officer, who stood on his other side. “Have all senior officers gathered on the quarterdeck, latest by the end of our second volley. And tell Kai-dahn that he can bring his Seaborne up on deck. I want them ready for an amphibious assault as soon as possible.”

“We’re going ashore, Captain?”

“Aye. Taking out their ships won’t stop them from wrecking this place. It’ll probably just make them angrier savages.” Sjan-dehk stepped away from the gunwale. “We’ll finish this properly, and that means taking the fight to those bastards. By push of bayonet, as the army likes to say.”

“As you say, Captain,” Azwan said and hurried off to carry out his orders.

Maxwylle hadn’t been exaggerating when he said that the pirates’ ships were durable. Sada Kurau’s initial volley, although accurate, did little damage to them. Her solid, iron cannonballs couldn’t punch through the thick planks which armoured their hulls. The shots either embedded themselves into the wood, or bounced off due to the steep sloping of their tumblehome designs. But, whether because of shock, or a lack of crew aboard, neither ship returned fire, allowing Sada Kurau to take her time meandering into position to deliver her second volley. No matter how strong a hull, or how thick the wood, they were nothing before the sheer destructive power of explosive shells. Resounding blasts echoed through the air as gaping holes were torn into the ships’ sides.

So confident was Sjan-dehk of Sada Kurau’s victory that he started discussing the upcoming landings with his crew in the midst of all the cannon fire. He, and the other senior officers, crowded around a small table on the quarterdeck, their eyes drawn to a hastily scribbled diagram of the village.

“Excuse the shite drawing,” Sjan-dehk said. “But it’s the best I can do on short notice. Anyway, before I get too deep into things, I’ll outline our roles for this operation. I’ll be leading the first wave of Seaborne, along with Wahkyara. Kai-dahn, Azwan, the two of you have the second wave. Dai-sehk, you’ll go with them with your physicians and healers– I mean, healer. Hai-shuun, Avek, third wave. If we need a fourth, it’ll have to be Mursi and Sai-keh, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Sahm-tehn, the ship will be yours. Sohn-dahn, your boys will be on standby in case we need more hands for any non-combat duties. Everyone clear?”

He waited for the chorus of acknowledgements to end before drawing everyone’s attention to the drawing, pointing out a few details. “From what I can see, the village, town, whatever it is, isn’t too complex. Single main street down the center, two poorly-defined avenues along the flanks, all converging on the square. There’s a few multi-floor buildings in the centre, but elsewhere, it’s all simple houses and such. On the right, we’ve fields, and on the left, jetties.”

“How many enemies are we facing, Captain?” Kai-dahn asked.

“A hundred-and-fifty, maybe two hundred,” Sjan-dehk replied, quoting Maxwylle’s numbers. “I’m assuming that they’ve disembarked most of their crew, if not all of them. Can’t imagine why their ships didn’t even try to return fire, otherwise.”

Kai-dahn’s visage darkened. “Then that main street will be a problem. It’s too wide for us to advance down safely, not with us outnumbered so heavily, Captain. Our flanks would either be too weak, or entirely open to enemy attack.”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “I agree. That’s why we’re not going down the centre.” He tapped both avenues in turn, then the scraggly line representing the beach. “After Wahkyara and I land, I’ll take Detachment One down the right. Wahkyara will swing left with Detachment Two and secure the jetties and secure the ships, just in case there’s still any pirate left aboard with ideas of joining the fight. The both of us will advance as far as we can. Give us some room to breathe. Then, when the second wave lands, Kai-dahn, you will link up with Wahkyara, and Azwan, you will join me on the right.”

“That leaves the centre open, however.” Kai-dahn furrowed his brow. “They can storm through and cut the both of you off from the second wave, or worse, envelope both Detachments, Captain.”

“Yes, but we have Sada Kurau.” Sjan-dehk looked at Sahm-tehn. “You’ll use her guns to dissuade anyone trying to come down the main street. Doesn’t matter if you don’t hit anyone. Just make it clear that it’ll be a terrible idea for them to even try.”

Sahm-tehn’s thin lips twisted into a frown. “That street goes straight to the square, Captain. I imagine you don’t intend for us to fire explosive, shrapnel, or canister, but even a solid shot can ricochet off the ground and crush the people we’re trying to save. I don’t imagine you want that, Captain.”

“No, I don’t,” Sjan-dehk said and turned to Mursi. “I was hoping you might have a solution.”

Mursi chewed on his lip a moment, tapping his fingers on the table, before nodding. “We can remove fuses from shrapnel shells and empty them out, Captain. We’ll be left with a hollow iron shot that should shatter on impact with the ground, but still be hard enough to kill a man.”

Sjan-dehk grinned at him. “Thank you. You just saved me from looking like a fucking idiot.” He drew a circle around one of the buildings near the middle of the street with his finger. “But to be safe, we’ll have this as our limit of cannon fire. It’s a house with a blue roof, you can’t miss it.” He turned to Sahm-tehn again. “But before you fire on the street, we’ll need Sada Kurau to cover the first wave’s landing. I doubt they’re stupid enough to come out into the open or even try to mount a serious shore defence when it’s clear that we’ve got artillery superiority, but let’s play it safe. Give them full broadsides, and do whatever you must to keep them away from the beach.”

“Aye, will do, Captain,” Sahm-tehn replied.

“At the end of it, no matter which wave you are, we’ll all regroup in the square,” Sjan-dehk said, pointing to a few rectangles on the diagram that were larger than most. “There’s a big, long building that has a tower thing sticking from its roof. If you get turned around, use that to get yourself orientated. Based on what I’ve seen of local arms, firepower will be our greatest advantage. We can shoot faster, straighter, and hit from a lot farther than them. And so, we’ll all be going in with longarms, myself included. Mursi, see to it that we all have rifles.”

“Already done, Captain.”

“Good. Oh, Kai-dahn, I’ll brief Wahkyara myself on the specifics of the landing. Send him to me before we start loading the boats.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Sjan-dehk stood back upright and stepped back from the table. He looked at everyone present in turn, and they similarly looked at him. There were many emotions on their faces. Anticipation, nervousness, a touch of excitement, even, on Kai-dahn’s. But none showed fear. Sjan-dehk knew they felt it, however, just as he did. But that was normal. Nobody was truly unafraid whilst standing on the cusp of battle. “We’ll be fighting on Caesonian land for the first time, today,” Sjan-dehk said. “But we’ve all done this many times before. In Kai-dahn’s case, I’m sure this should be your hundredth.”

“Hundred-and-tenth, Captain.”

“Of course you’d be the sort to keep count.” Sjan-dehk shook his head with a chuckle. Calls echoing from the main deck told him that Sada Kurau had fired her final guns. “But anyway,” he continued, his voice and face serious. “We’ve all seen what these pirate bastards have done. We know that they deserve whatever terror we’re about to unleash on them. And we sure as the Abyss know their type. Scum who believe that they’re to be feared because they can brutalise those who can’t fight back.”

He paused to watch his officers nod in agreement. “So let’s show them the error of their ways. If they want to be seen as a fearsome threat, then we shall treat them like one. We’ll fight them as how we fight any of our greatest foes, and crush them like how we’ve crushed everyone else before. After all, only three things from the sea are unstoppable. One is a tsunami. Two is a typhoon–”

“And three is a Jafin!” Avek finished heartily, his boisterous laugh echoing across the ship.

“Exactly.” Sjan-dehk grinned. “Now, shall we?”
Sjan-dehk & Dahlia

Time: Night of 26th Sola




Sjan-dehk heard the falling ropes first, but Inshahri was quicker on the move. Before he could even call for her to stop, the young woodshaper leapt towards the noise, pushing the fallen coil aside with her foot, and a stack of empty sacks with her hands. Pale moonlight illuminated the unmistakable outline of a girl – she couldn’t be much older than Inshahri, Sjan-dehk estimated – who was very clearly not part of his crew, and very clearly not Viserjantan.

“Found you!” Inshahri chirped, her words a lilting melody. She reached for the girl, but this time Sjan-dehk stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Well done, Inshahri,” he said, then glanced at Yasawen. “I’ll take it from here. Both of you, report to your stations. Yasawen, Master Dai-sehk should be on the orlop down below. Inshahri…” A woodshaper would be most useful with Hai-shuun and the carpentry team below decks, but if this Caesonian stowaway was truly possessed of magic, Inshahri’s counter-arcane abilities might prove to be invaluable.

“You report to Haifahl at the mainmast,” Sjan-dehk decided. That should place her close enough for her to react to any attempts at magic by the Caesonian girl.

“Aye, Captain,” Inshahri said, snapping to a salute before sauntering off. Yasawen followed suit, albeit less exuberantly. He snuck a few hesitant, apprehensive glances at the Caesonian girl as he walked away.

“Captain,” he began.

“It’ll be fine,” Sjan-dehk cut him off and drew a pistol. He grinned at Yasawen. “We all know which is faster, between magic and a bullet, don’t we?”

Yasawen paused for a moment. Then, he nodded and quickened his pace.

Sjan-dehk turned his full attention to the Caesonian girl. He levelled his pistol at her, hammer fully cocked and blackened muzzle pointed squarely at the centre of her forehead. “Now, to deal with you,” he began. “I do not remember letting a Caesonian board Sada Kurau. I also do not remember taking on…No, recruiting new crew. So why you are here, I do not know.” He curled his finger around the trigger. “By my laws, I can kill you right now.”

He lowered the pistol slightly, until the muzzle hovered over her chest. “But I will not,” he said. “Not yet. Do what I tell you, and you might live. Otherwise, you die.” He took a step back. “Come out from the dark and let us talk for a while.”

There was an almost inaudible sigh as the girl seemed to glare at the boards of the ship as if they were the reason for her current problems. Finally, Dahlia raised her hands, dryly stating, “Well, congratulations. You’ve caught the world’s least threatening stowaway. I’m sure this will go down as one of your greatest triumphs.”

Then the captain pulled a pistol, and her eyes flicked to the barrel now aimed squarely at her chest. “A gun? Really?” she deadpanned, arching a brow. “How rude.”

Sjan-dehk didn’t give the girl the satisfaction of a direct response to her words. Instead, he waved her out from her corner with the pistol. Heads and eyes from across the deck and up the masts turned towards the pair, some curious, some suspicious, but all waiting to see what would happen next.

“Why are you here?” Sjan-dehk asked brusquely, keeping his distance. If Inshahri was correct, and this girl did possess magical abilities, then she had to be treated like a potential danger. A very, very lethal one, at that. But in the back of Sjan-dehk’s mind, he found that hard to believe. Didn’t Caesonia have a poor view on magic in general? Why then, would a magic-user risk exposure to sneak aboard Sada Kurau? Wouldn’t it have been disastrous for her if she had been discovered just mere moments before, and handed over to the city guard?

Dahlia tilted her head, her lips twitching into the faintest of smirks. “That depends. Are you asking because you care, or because you’re trying to figure out where to send my thank-you note?”

He quickly pushed all those thoughts aside. They weren’t of any use now. “Someone sent you?” He asked and allowed the pistol’s muzzle to drift slightly higher, until it was level with her head. “Or you come alone, with no one?”

“The gods sent me,” The sentence was delivered as if it were the most obvious answer to his question. “Apparently, divine intervention doesn’t come with advance notice. Sorry about that.”

Sjan-dehk narrowed his eyes. Part of him wanted to shoot her right then and there. He should just shoot her right then and there. Nobody would blame him for it. But he was too curious. There were questions he needed answered. And besides, who knew if this girl’s magic was the sort that triggered upon her death?

No, he couldn’t kill her. Not yet, at least. That might not be the right thing to do, but it was the smart thing, the safe thing to do.

His mind raced. The girl had the airs of a professional – she did things like this regularly, at least, if her glib tongue and outwardly calm demeanour was anything to go by. Most people’s guts would turn to water from the moment their eyes looked at a firelock straight down the barrel. Most people also wouldn’t be so quick to quip and offer wit upon being discovered. And if she was a professional, that likely meant that she didn’t come here on her own volition. What would be the point? Sada Kurau was a beautiful ship, but she wasn’t one that announced wealth or power. Certainly, there was nothing about her that signalled that there was anything worth pilfering aboard.

That meant that the girl was here for something else. Information, most likely. And that meant that she had to have been sent by someone.

“Think carefully,” Sjan-dehk said. He couldn’t help the smirk that pulled on his lips. Despite everything, the girl’s spirit and nerve impressed him. “You are here. Alone. We are at sea. You are only alive because you have answers I want. The people who send you here, you think they will care if I shoot you? Throw you to the waves? I only want to know why you are here. Sada Kurau, we have done nothing to your people. Not anything bad.”

He paused, glancing towards the bow of the ship. There was nothing to see but interminable darkness, as he had expected. Rushing water, crashing waves, and the ruffling of sails were the only natural sounds of such a night. The roughness of the sea, which pitched the deck up-and-down, amidst the absence of any powerful winds did tell him that they were sailing close to shore, however.

Good. That meant that they were well on course to search for the mysterious vessels.

“Tell me what I want, and I guarantee you can live,” Sjan-dehk said.

Dahlia kept her smirk firmly in place, even as her heart hammered like a drum beneath her ribs. ”I mean, if you really wanted me gone, you’d have done it already. So why not indulge that curiosity? I’ll try to make it worth your time.”

Sjan-dehk smirked again. “That is good try, but not good enough,” he said. “For now, you are more useful alive than dead. But if you want, you can jump into the sea. I will not try too hard to stop you.”

She tensed up for a moment then let out a long, exaggerated sigh, “Why am I here?” She gestured loosely with one hand, the other still raised. “Let’s call it… curiosity. Your ship caught my eye, and I thought, ‘What’s the harm in taking a closer look?’ Turns out, a lot.”

Her gaze flicked to the pistol and back, her lips twitching into a half-hearted smile. “Look, I’m not here to steal your treasure or sink your ship. Not that I’d say no to a treasure map, if you’ve got one lying around.” She shook her head. “I just needed a way out of Sorian. Your ship happened to be convenient. Lucky me, huh?”

That gave Sjan-dehk pause. It did sound like a plausible story – someone possessed of magic wouldn’t be too happy living in Sorian, he imagined. And given that Sada Kurau was perhaps the most foreign vessel currently in harbour, it would make sense for someone like the girl to pick her as a means of escape. “That is…” Sjan-dehk began and trailed off. Then, he sighed and holstered the pistol. “That much, I can believe for now. But you chose bad time to come aboard.”

He jerked a thumb towards the top of the mizzenmast. Barely visible by the faint glows of lanterns, the flag of a Caesonian privateer fluttered weakly in the gentle wind. “We are privateering, and will return to Sorian soon. But…” He trailed off, tilting his chin towards the girl. “We do not dislike your…Your kind. If you did no other crime, then you will be safe here. With us.”

There was more he wanted to ask, and wanted to say, but a shout from the bow interrupted him. “Larboard prow, contact!”

That stole Sjan-dehk’s attention momentarily. “Steady as she goes, but prepare to maneuver!” He shouted back, making sure that the rest of the crew heard his order. He looked at the girl with a wry smile. “It is not good time for you to be here, at all. We may have to fight.”

Dahlia’s eyes lit up at the mention of a fight, her smirk breaking into a grin. “A fight? Now we’re talking! I knew this trip would get exciting.”

She stepped forward, her tone brimming with energy. “Point me in the right direction, Captain. I’ll happily jump in.”

“If we are lucky, it will not–”

A series of low, muffled thumps – like distant thunder – interrupted Sjan-dehk. He looked towards the bow again. Flashes of fiery orange pierced the darkness like a dagger, each of them illuminating for the briefest of moments the outline of a ship in the distance.

There wasn’t any time to think. There wasn’t any need for him to. “Everybody to cover!” He bellowed.

He rushed over to the girl, closing the distance in the time it took for him to blink, and roughly grabbed her by the collar of her shirt. Cannonballs sliced through the air overhead even as he pulled her down with him onto the deck. The infernal screams of the dreadful cannonade, the bone-chilling splintering of wood, and the dull thuds of Sada Kurau’s pointed prow deflecting as many shots as it could, seemed unending. Men shouted all around him, but Sjan-dehk kept himself calm. This wasn’t anything new.

“Recover!” He shouted once the salvo was over, scrambling to his feet with a hand hooked under the girl’s arm to pull her up as well. All things considered, Sada Kurau wasn’t in too bad a shape – large holes had been shot out of her bulwarks and gunwale, especially towards her bow, and there were shorn ropes and broken rigging hanging from above, but nobody seemed injured. “Master Sahm-tehn, send your men aloft for repairs! Master Hai-shuun, your crew to the orlop!”

“Aye, Captain!” came the series of acknowledgements from somewhere amidst the chaotic deck.

Sjan-dehk grabbed the girl by the arm and pulled her behind him. “You follow,” he said curtly before going back to barking orders to his crew. “They’re right ahead of us! Bring us hard to larboard on a course to cut across her keel–”

“Captain! Second vessel spotted in the mist!” A shout came from above. “Two vessels direct front! They’re sailing in line!”

Sjan-dehk swore beneath his breath. “Continue with my previous orders, but signal intent to our friend and tell them to engage the forward vessel. We’ll take care of the cunt in the rear!”

Dahlia hit the deck hard, Sjan-dehk’s grip firm on her collar. “Well, this is cozy,” she muttered as cannonballs screamed overhead.

When he hauled her up, she stumbled but quickly quipped, “Appreciate the save. Real gentlemanly.” Staying close behind him, she added, “So, is this level of chaos normal, or am I just lucky?”

“Normal enough,” Sjan-dehk replied shortly. He would have preferred to have been able to get the jump on just one of the ships, or to at least take them separately, but such was the nature of combat. Things rarely ever went according to his preferences.

At the shout of a second vessel, her smirk grew. “Two ships? Wow. You really know how to make a stowaway feel special.”

Sjan-dehk didn’t reply immediately. The bulk of his attention was focused on Sada Kurau. Getting her into a position to rake the enemy vessel was the best course of action, but it was also one that would leave her exposed to withering broadsides from the enemy as she approached. Granted, that depended on how fast Sada Kurau’s foe could reload, and how accurately they could fire in the dead of night. But unarmoured as his ship was, Sjan-dehk didn’t want to take any chances. One lucky – or unlucky – salvo would be enough to put them out of action.

“Up,” he said, pulling the girl behind him as he climbed the steps to get onto the quarterdeck. “Helmsman, turn us three points to larboard,” he quickly ordered as he took position beside the wheel, looking out over the deck. “Swing us out of their arch-of-fire.”

“Aye, three points to larboard,” the helmsman replied. The tall, lanky man slowly turned the wheel, and the ship responded in kind, lurching over to the left.

“Not special,” Sjan-dehk said, finally responding to the girl. “Special is if we board. We are not. If only one ship, then yes. We can board. But two? Too…Too risky. We shoot from far. Use cannons. If at the end they still float, then we go across and see what they have. If not, then we let them sink–”

Another series of flashes interrupted him, and he flinched on instinct. Placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder, he was prepared to pull her down once more. But then he noticed their angle, and he relaxed slightly. Not a moment later, cannonballs shot past Sada Kurau’s starboard side, some coming worryingly close to her, and a few landing only glancing blows as they ricocheted off the hull. Still, the impact was enough to make the hull shudder, and Sjan-dehk kept a tight grip on the girl to keep her from falling over.

“Steady as she goes,” Sjan-dehk said quickly. The helmsman echoed the command and righted the wheel.

Grimacing, the Captain looked out towards the bow into the darkness. Luck alone had spared them from a second broadside, but he wasn’t too certain if it would save them from a third. If his enemy was smart, and they had a captain worth the title, they would be turning their ship to go broadside-to-broadside with Sada Kurau. With these winds, and Sada Kurau’s agility, Sjan-dehk doubted they would succeed, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t fire off perhaps one or two more salvos that could at least brush against his ship.

He chewed on his lip. He would need someone on deck to handle the wounded, specifically the ones who would suffer minor injuries. That would leave Dai-sehk able to focus on the more severe injuries. Casting a glance over at the girl, Sjan-dehk hesitated. Although he had already gathered that she was a magic-user seeking to flee Caesonia, he still had his doubts about her. Enough to make him wonder if he should bring Yasawen up on deck, where she might be able to catch him using his abilities.

Sjan-dehk shook his head. No, that didn’t matter. The safety of his crew, did. If it came to it, he would have to simply do something about the girl. And besides, he could always just keep her away from the boy while he went about his work. “Someone call Yasawen up on deck!”

Dahlia clung to the railing as the ship lurched again, her knuckles white against thewood. “So, not special,” she said, feigning a wounded tone despite the chaos. “I’ll try not to cry myself to sleep over that later.”

When Sjan-dehk yanked her up the steps behind him, she followed with an exaggerated sigh, her feet barely keeping pace. “You know, I’m starting to think you brought me along just for my charm.” She ducked instinctively as another volley of cannon fire roared through the night, her breath catching when the hull shuddered beneath them. “On second thought, maybe you just wanted a human shield.” As the captain barked more orders, Dahlia tilted her head, eyeing him warily. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect.

When he mentioned Yasawen, however, her smirk returned. “Calling for backup? Don’t tell me I’m too much for you to handle already, Captain.” Another explosion rattled the air, and she flinched, gripping the railing tighter. “Alright, I’ll admit it,” she muttered, mostly to herself. “This is a little more exciting than I signed up for…” Then she sighed and added louder, “How can I help?”

A scowl briefly flashed across Sjan-dehk’s face. The girl’s bravado – regardless of whether it was an act or real – was starting to become tiresome. “Nothing for now,” he said curtly, his eyes scanning the deck, then the darkness beyond Sada Kurau’s bowsprit, then the billowing sails overhead. He grimaced. Even though both wind and waves were in their favour, the strength of the former sat poorly with him. They were sailing towards shore. The same speed that would shorten the time Sada Kurau spent under the gun sights of her enemy was the same speed that could very well throw her against shallows.

“Take depth soundings from the bow!” He shouted. Again, the order was echoed across the deck. Not long after, two men made a mad dash towards Sada Kurau’s prow. “Report every five minutes! Helmsman and riggers, ready for rapid maneuvering!”

“Aye, Captain!” came the chorused response.

Sjan-dehk glanced at the girl from the corner of his eye. “We can do nothing for now,” he said calmly, even as his grimace deepened. The moments between coming under fire from an enemy and being able to pay them back in kind were always the most tense. One’s mind would be hard-pressed to not imagine all sorts of grisly scenarios. What if the enemy turned faster than expected, and fired a devastating salvo? Or what if Sada Kurau wasn’t getting into as good a position as intended? The possibilities were endless.

But Sjan-dehk’s veteran sensibilities put an end to them, nonetheless.

“For now we can only sail and wait,” he continued. In an effort to calm the girl, whom he imagined must be new to naval combat, he cleared his throat and swiftly added, Sada Kurau knows what to do. With her, we will survive. We will win.”

Dahlia leaned on the rail, her smirk softening as she watched the crew hustle around her. “Sounds like Sada Karau’s been through this plenty of times, huh?”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “Yes. Many times.”

The rapid thumps of approaching boots caught Sjan-dehk’s attention. He looked over the girl’s shoulder, at the landing of the steps leading up to the quarterdeck, and saw Yasawen jogging towards them. The boy’s face was flushed with exertion, and his clothes in disarray. “Y-You called for me, Captain?” He asked even as he tried to catch his breath. Sjan-dehk could see that he was doing all he could to not fully double-over and brace his hands on his knees.

“Yes.” Sjan-dehk nodded, then tilted his chin towards the deck. “Station yourself amidships. Minor wounds and such will be yours to deal with. Major ones, you send below to Master Dai-sehk. Is that clear?”

Yasawen glanced nervously to his sides, his gaze turning curious when he saw the girl. His eyes lingered on her for a moment before returning to the Captain. “Yes– I mean, aye, Captain! Are they any…Um, any guidelines as to what’s major and what’s minor? I-I ask only to be sure, Captain.”

The brunette had watched Yasawen jog up with all the grace of a flustered deer, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. When his gaze landed on her, lingering for a moment too long, she gave him a wink.

Sjan-dehk raised a brow, amused. “Guidelines? In battle? You’ve plenty to learn, kid.” He shook his head, then gave Yasawen a shrug. “You’re the medical man between the two of us. I’ll leave deciding on what’s a major and minor wound up to you. Though if you want my advice, just handle what you can and give our Master Dai-sehk what you can’t. I just want my crew healthy and intact.”

Yasawen nodded. He drew in a deep breath and forced himself to stand upright, with back ramrod straight and eyes as steely as he could manage. Sjan-dehk didn’t have the heart to tell him that he looked comical rather than serious, even if he appreciated the effort. “A-Aye, Captain!”

“To your station, then,” Sjan-dehk said and quickly dismissed Yasawen. The less time he spent around the girl, the better.

The boy’s boots were still thumping down the steps when a call came from the ship’s bow. “Forty-nine feet and thereabouts to the bottom, Captain! Sand and reef!”

Sjan-dehk chewed on his lip as he did the numbers in his head. Forty-nine was cutting it close to comfort, but it was still good. Sada Kurau had roughly six feet of her hull underwater, and needed at least twice that number to account for swells or dips in the waves. Aside from Sada Kurau’s depth-under-keel, the call told him one other thing – roughly how much time had passed since the enemy engaged them. He peered into the darkness, and could only barely make out the tiny dots of flickering light that marked where the enemy crew had placed lanterns along their ship.

Bright flashes cut through the darkness, but they were far away enough that Sjan-dehk didn’t think them to be a danger. Not to Sada Kurau, at least – those flashes were likely the muzzle flashes of their opponent’s friend as they opened fire on Cynric’s Recompense. Now that, that worried Sjan-dehk. He didn’t know how strong his ally was, or how they would fare under fire or even in combat. He had to act fast.

“Gun deck, load shrapnel! Set time to fifteen!” He leaned almost half his body over the guardrail to bark his orders. “All sailing hands, swing us hard to starboard and bring us directly towards our opponent! I want us to get clear eyes on her arse before we open fire!”

Dahlia tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Sjan-dehk’s focused expression. The way he stared into the darkness, the gears turning in his mind, practically radiated intensity.

“So, who’s attacking us?” she asked, her tone laced with teasing intrigue. “Pirates? Rivals? Or maybe an ex you just can’t quit? ”

Once again, Sjan-dehk didn’t reply immediately. He had far more important things occupying his mind. For a start, he needed to definitively locate Sada Kurau’s prey. All he had seen of her thus far were the flashes of her guns and the lanterns of her crew, and now even those meagre hints had been swallowed up by the darkness. Chewing on his lip, Sjan-dehk wracked his mind for his next few moves. Sada Kurau was sailing at speed – perhaps too much speed – towards her prey’s last known location. Without anything to tell him his foe’s heading and direction, it could very well be that Sada Kurau was going to find herself in a terrible position at the worst time possible.

“Pirates, I think,” Sjan-dehk replied curtly, and with only half-his-mind.

Dahlia let out an amused laugh, though her eyes scanned the darkness uneasily. “Pirates. Of course. You make it sound like this happens every Tuesday.” She squinted toward the disappearing lanterns, her head tilting in suspicion. “Wait, why’d the lights go out? Is that… bad? Like, really bad?”

He didn’t care about the lack of gun flashes. The enemy crew was likely still in the midst of reloading, and it would be a while before they were ready to fire again. But the disappearing lanterns were another matter entirely. Either they had been doused – in which case Sjan-dehk was facing a captain and crew who knew what they were about – or the ship had turned in a way that brought them out of sight. Sjan-dehk preferred it to be the former. Better for him to face a skilled foe, than a ship whose movements he couldn’t tell.

“Thirty-five feet to the bottom and thereabouts, Captain! Sand and reef!”

The call from the bow made her freeze, her brows shooting up as she instinctively grabbed the nearest railing for balance. The sudden flurry of activity on deck added to her unease. “Thirty-five? That’s close, isn’t it? Please tell me you know what you’re doing.”

Sjan-dehk swore beneath his breath. Sada Kurau was much too close to shore to be sailing at such high a speed. But neither could she slow down – that would be to surrender her one indisputable advantage, and in the face of an unseen enemy, no less. It was a decision between two equally bad choices. Sada Kurau could either maintain her speed and risk running aground, or ramming the enemy, or she could slow down, and instead risk being caught by the enemy.

Then, he saw it.

It was nothing more than a vague outline, and moonlight reflecting off oddly-shaped waves, but they were enough to catch his eyes. “Starboard battery, target will be approaching from the bow!” Sjan-dehk shouted and, grabbing the girl by the arm to pull her behind him, rushed for the stairs. He descended it quickly, and reached the starboard bulwark just in time to see a sheer cliff of wood and glass appear from the darkness like a ghost. “We have her by the stern! All guns, fire as you bear!”

When Sjan-dehk grabbed her arm and rushed her to the starboard side, Dahlia mock-complained, “Careful, Captain. You’ll bruise my pretty skin.” But her teasing faltered when the enemy ship emerged from the darkness like a ghostly giant. Her breath hitched, and her smirk vanished. “Well. That’s… terrifying.”

“Aye, starboard battery, fire as we bear!” The muffled shout came from beneath his feet.

It would only take a few seconds for Sada Kurau to get into position, but it may as well have been several eternities. Sjan-dehk kept his eye on the enemy ship as they drew closer and closer. It didn’t look as if she was moving, and it didn’t take long for him to figure out why. Her sails, dark grey and almost invisible in the darkness, were limp, and fluttered weakly against the oncoming wind. More likely than not, she had tried to turn to meet Sada Kurau, but her crew couldn’t tack her sails fast enough to keep them billowing. It was terrible luck on their part, but that was the nature of battle. Fortune often played a larger role than tactics.

“Cover ears,” Sjan-dehk said to the girl. Not a moment later, the first of Sada Kurau’s guns opened fire.

So close were they to the enemy that Sjan-dehk could easily hear the shattering of glass, the splintering of wood, and the panicked yells of the crew as Sada Kurau raked their ship. And had it just been solid shot, it would have been bad enough, but Sada Kurau was using her shrapnel shells. Designed for clearing decks and bombarding shores, they could be timed to explode after a certain distance, showering anyone unlucky enough to be in the vicinity with metal shards and rifle balls.

Glass and thin wood, such as the sort which covered most ship’s sterns, weren’t sturdy enough to shatter such shells. And so, Sada Kurau’s salvo easily sailed into the innards of her foe before they exploded, one at a time. Sjan-dehk didn’t even want to imagine the carnage that was unfolding within. He caught sight of a flash of orange as Sada Kurau’s final guns savaged the enemy. A fire, either from a fallen lantern, or just the sheer devastation, had likely broken out. Sjan-dehk wasn’t too keen on staying long enough to find out which it was.

“Fucking well done!” He shouted over his shoulder. “Now bring us hard to star–”

“Captain!” A frantic shout came from the quarterdeck, behind him. “Ship approaching from larboard!”

“Fuck,” Sjan-dehk spat. Taking the girl by her arm, he swiftly crossed the deck to the other side. And sure enough, there in the distance was another ship, white surf surrounding her bow, and bright – brighter than those of Sada Kurau’s earlier prey – lamps illuminating her prow. There was no telling what she was, but if her billowing sails and apparent haste was anything to go by, she was probably in league with the enemy.

“Where did she come from?” Another shout from the quarterdeck.

“She must’ve lagged behind!” Sjan-dehk answered. “But don’t worry about that! Proceed with orders! Bring us hard to starboard and get us around the ship we just wrecked! We’ll use her as cover!” Even as he said those words, he knew that it wasn’t the best idea. This new enemy simply had to make a turn to starboard, and they would be able to fire a broadside into Sada Kurau’s stern. But there wasn’t any choice. Sjan-dehk didn’t know how close they were to shore, and to make a turn to larboard to meet this new enemy – even if it was a sharp one – would take too much time and distance.

“Twenty-two feet under keel and thereabouts, Captain! Sand, reef, and rock!”

“Hard to starboard, now!” Sjan-dehk barked. “Tack all sails if you have to! Otherwise we’ll run aground!”

The yardarms swung wildly overhead, their sails straining to catch the wind from a different direction. Sada Kurau lurched hard as it turned. Sjan-dehk moved about the deck to keep his eye on the newcomer. Much to his displeasure, she was also turning as expected, to catch Sada Kurau in her stern. But she was a lot slower, and was much more cumbersome in her turn. With some luck, Sada Kurau would circle around the now-burning wreck of her prey, and meet her new victim broadside-to-broadside.

“Wait!” It was Yasawen. “I can help!”

Sjan-dehk snapped his head around, just in time to see the boy rush towards the bulwark. Fain wisps, like a leafy green mist, swirled up his arms, intertwining and splitting as they tickled his tanned flesh. “Fucking idiot!” Sjan-dehk shouted, for the moment forgetting the girl. He raced towards Yasawen. “Don’t just stand there!” His words were rushed, and his crew didn’t seem to catch them at all, entranced as they were with the display of arcane power. “Someone stop him!”

Yasawen’s mouth moved, but Sjan-dehk couldn’t hear his words over the din of battle. The swirling wisps quickened, coalescing into something closer to smoke. More and more green trails rose from between the deck’s planks. They crawled out of the water like snakes and buzzed around Yasawen’s hands, eager and ready to be used according to his will. “Don’t you dare!” Sjan-dehk yelled, still pushing his way towards the boy. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

Then, everything happened at once. Yasawen abruptly stopped murmuring. He swung his wisp-shrouded arm upwards in a sharp, almost violent, motion. In an instant, the green smoke burst from him, cutting faint lines through the air as they hurriedly dove into the sea.

Sjan-dehk finally reached him. He tackled the boy.

But it was too late.

The sea lurched and churned, as if a great creature was just lurking beneath. Then, right when Sjan-dehk sent Yasawen crashing painfully onto the deck, it stopped. Grunting, Sjan-dehk pulled himself up, peering over the gunwale. White crests, a sure sign of agitated waters, surrounded Sada Kurau, but they seemed to be calming. Not too far off in the distance, the enemy ship continued to approach, its wake clear even in the dark of night, the ruffling of its sails loud.

Then, something shot out of the sea. It was far too dark, and it moved too quickly for Sjan-dehk to catch it, but whatever it was, it speared the enemy ship from keel to deck. So violent was its impact that the entire vessel almost heeled over. A few moments later, the object fell from the sky, landing not too far away from Sada Kurau. Sjan-dehk looked in the direction of its landing and managed to just catch sight of the boulder before it sank beneath the waves.

“Yasawen!” He shouted, but the boy didn’t respond. Sjan-dehk was about to check on him, but the sight of the enemy ship stopped him. Flickers of orange burned on her deck, and wicked tongues of flame shot out of her gunports. Her bow dipped low in the water, but still she continued to press onwards. But she barely managed a few yards before the flames became too much for her to bear. Her magazines detonated, and she exploded into a shower of embers and debris.

“Get us out of here!” Sjan-dehk shouted. Splinters rained from above, most of them splashing into the sea, but a few falling close enough to make him worried. As the ship lurched and continued to turn away from the burning hulk of the enemy, Sjan-dehk kneeled and grabbed the boy by the collar. “You idiot,” he growled.

Yasawen blinked. A sickly pallour coloured his cheeks. “I-I helped–”

“We could’ve handled it!” Sjan-dehk shouted. His eyes fell to the boy’s arm, the one which he had used to channel his power. Yasawen’s entire forearm was sand. Not covered in it, but made of it. Some of it was in the midst of hardening to stone, while other parts fell away in clumps. That wasn’t too worrying, however; as each falling clump left behind a gouging hole, more sand rose to retain the shape of Yasawen’s arm.

“Not only did you damn near turn yourself into a fucking sand sculpture,” Sjan-dehk continued. “But you’ve also given yourself away!”

“B-But there’s only our people-” Yasawen whimpered.

Sjan-dehk turned him towards the girl and pointed at her. “She’s not! Congratulations, you just made sure that we have to do something about her, now.”

As Sjan-dehk barked for the guns to fire, Dahlia winced at the deafening blasts, instinctively covering her ears despite his earlier warning. Her eyes widened at the splintering wood and flashes of orange erupting from the enemy ship. Her balance faltered as Sjan-dehk dragged her across the deck again, her voice rising in alarm. “Wait, there’s another one? How many of these guys are out here?” Her unease turned to outright shock when Yasawen’s magic came into play. Dahlia froze, her jaw dropping as the green mist swirled and the sea erupted beneath the enemy ship.

Her eyes darted between Sjan-dehk, Yasawen, and the unfolding chaos. She watched, wide-eyed, as the ship was hit by something she couldn’t quite make out with her eyes, her voice trembling as she muttered, “That’s… definitely not in any naval manual I’ve ever heard of.” The fiery explosion that followed made her flinch, shielding her face from the heat and falling debris. “And here I thought the cannons were overkill...”

When Sjan-dehk tackled Yasawen and began berating him, Dahlia’s smirk faltered. Her gaze flicked nervously between the two, her tone cautious but questioning. “Whoa, hold on. You’re mad because he used magic? I mean, sure, it was… dramatic, but it worked, right? I don’t see the problem.”

Her expression froze when Sjan-dehk pointed at her, the gravity of his words sinking in. She took a deliberate step back, her hands half-raised in defense. “Wait, wait, hold on squared! I don’t care if he’s throwing fireballs or summoning sea monsters. What do you mean you have to do something about me?” Her voice pitched higher, tinged with nervous energy, and her earlier bravado cracked further.

She frowned, her shoulders tensing as she motioned vaguely to the wreckage and chaos around her. “Look, I didn’t sign up to be a loose end or whatever you’re thinking. I just wanted a ride out of Sorian, not… whatever this is.”

“Liar.” Inshahri’s sing-song voice came out of nowhere, and the girl followed soon after, a carefree, cheeky grin gracing her lips. She moved as she always did, with a spring in her light, swaying steps, as she made her way towards the girl. “Liar,” she repeated and giggled. In the aftermath all that had just happened, and in the midst of a battle, everything about Inshahri’s mannerisms struck Sjan-dehk as odd. But still, he held himself back and allowed her to do whatever it was that she wanted to do.

“Excuse me?” she retorted, her tone sharp and defensive.

“Your magic isn’t yours,” Inshahri said, her smile never wavering. She cocked her head. “It looked strange to me earlier, but I couldn’t tell why. Now I can. You and that magic around you, your melodies are so very, very different! Not like Yasawen and his, or me and mine.” She buzzed around the girl like a bee around a flower, looking at her from every angle. “Someone gave you that magic, didn’t they? Or they did something to you. Or maybe you stole it from them?”

Dahlia’s mouth opened in disbelief. “What? No. No way. You’ve got the wrong girl,” she said quickly, her hands waving as if to push the claim away. Dahlia’s face drained of color. “What are you even talking about?” she asked again, this time quieter, almost to herself. She took another step back, her eyes darting to Sjan-dehk for some kind of explanation or reprieve. “Captain? She’s not serious, right? I don’t have magic. I’ve never done magic. This is—this is ridiculous!”

Sjan-dehk’s suspicions began to return. It did feel like too much of a coincidence – not only was this girl a magic-user, but they also seemed to understand Common Viserjantan. How many such people were there in Sorian? “That is true?” He asked, eyes narrowing. “You were…Given this magic?”

“No! I don’t know what she’s talking about!” she protested, shaking her head.. A faint memory flickered in the back of her mind, too blurry to grasp, like a half-forgotten dream she couldn’t quite piece together. “I mean… not that I know of? What does that even mean?”

She turned to Inshahri, her voice rising. “If someone did something to me, I’d know, wouldn’t I? I’d feel it or… or remember it, right?” Her tone softened into something closer to desperation. “This has to be a mistake.”

But the certainty in Inshahri’s words and Sjan-dehk’s suspicious gaze pressed on her like a weight. Dahlia’s breath quickened, her earlier nonchalance now completely replaced by fear. “I swear, I don’t know anything about magic. Whatever this is, it’s not me. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t do this.”

And then it hit her.

A memory, faint but insistent, surfaced in her mind—Seraphina speaking in hushed tones with another person. Words she hadn’t understood. A strange, fleeting warmth that had passed through her body, was dismissed at the time as nothing more than nerves or fatigue. Dahlia’s heart sank. She must’ve had someone cast spells on me, she thought to herself. What was she thinking? Why would she do that?

Sjan-dehk watched the girl’s expression change with a cold, hard look on his face. He had been taken for a fool, although he had to admit that he hadn’t exactly made that a difficult task. He had been too quick to trust the girl’s story; too quick to extend his sympathies to someone who didn’t deserve them. “So, you are lying, yes?” He asked, voice empty of emotion. “You are not…You do not have magic. Someone gave it to you, and send you here to do something.”

He asked no questions. The girl wasn’t going to answer them, more likely than not. Sjan-dehk looked out into the darkness, at the burning flotsam in the water, at the wrecks Sada Kurau had left in her wake. They were done here, it seemed. He couldn’t hear any firing in the distance, and so he assumed that Cynric had also made short work of his target. “Let’s get out of here,” Sjan-dehk called out. “Turn us around and bring us back to port. And someone get Mursi and Kai-dahn up here. We’ve got ourselves a spy to wrangle.”

“W-What’re you going to do to her?” Yasawen asked in a small voice.

Sjan-dehk shrugged. “Regulations say I should shoot her and throw her body overboard, or something like that, but…” He trailed off and fixed the girl with a scrying glare. “No telling what magic she’s got. Could be one that blows her up once she’s dead. I’m not going to take any chances.” He looked at Yasawen, then at Inshahri. “Don’t suppose either of you know anyone that can…I don’t know, remove that magic from her?”

Yasawen shook his head, but Inshahri nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes!” She chirped. “Mistress Kadahya should be able to do something about it! She’s the chief counter-arcane specialist on Sudah, you know? She can even tell you what magic’s in the girl, I bet!”

“Can she? I'll have to keep that in mind,” Sjan-dehk said with a mirthless chuckle.

Then, he walked back towards the girl, looking down at her with arms folded across his chest. Experience told him to just torture the information out of her. Whoever that had sent her had likely done so without any good intent, and who knew how much time he had before they did something more drastic? But Sjan-dehk couldn’t bring himself to give the order. The girl looked young. Far too young to be caught up in something like this. He could see her being a petty criminal, but a spy? That was a little far-fetched. Perhaps she had been telling some modicum of truth, when she said that she wanted no part in this.

“You…” He began, but then cut himself short. “Fuck it, you clearly understand what we’re saying. Anyway, congratulations. I’m not going to kill you, but I can’t let you leave Sada Kurau, either. Not until I’m sure that you won’t go reporting whatever it is you found out to your master, and I’m sure that’s going to take a very, very long time. Welcome to the crew.”

He shook his head. This wasn’t an ideal solution, and he knew it. But it was the best he could manage, for now. “First things first, I’m getting Mistress Kadahya to look you over as soon as she has time. I want that magic out of you. Two arcanists on my ship-”

“There’ll be more!” Inshahri piped up. Sjan-dehk glanced at her and sighed.

“A handful of arcanists on my ship is already more than what I can handle,” he said. “I don’t need another one to give me worry.”

Dahlia’s breath hitched as Sjan-dehk’s words sank in. Her eyes widened, and she took a sharp step back, her voice rising. “You can’t just keep me hostage! That’s not how this works!” Her words tumbled out in a frantic rush, her earlier bravado completely shattered. “I haven’t done anything to you! I didn’t hurt anyone! You can’t just decide I’m part of your crew like that!”

Sjan-dehk blinked once. “Actually, I can,” he said simply. “You snuck onboard Sada Kurau. You came here with bad intentions, and really, there’s nowhere for you to go. And besides, I’m Captain. I have the right to press people into service if I need to.”

She took a step back, her fists bawled, “This—this isn’t even my fight! I didn’t ask for any of this! I’m just trying to survive, okay? You can’t—” Her voice cracked, and she clamped her mouth shut for a moment.

When she spoke again, her tone was quieter but tinged with desperation. “Look, I’ll tell you what you want to know. I’ll cooperate. But you have to let me go when we get to port. You can’t keep me here forever.” Her gaze darted to Yasawen and Inshahri, searching for even a shred of sympathy, before returning to Sjan-dehk. “Please. I’m not a threat to you. Just let me go when we dock, and I swear you’ll never see me again.”
The two arcanists looked at each other. Then, they looked at Sjan-dehk.

She paused, her hands trembling at her sides, then added with a bitter edge, “I’ll even tell you about the bitch who sent me. She’s the real danger here, not me.

Sjan-dehk nodded. “I appreciate that,” he began, and then sighed. “But that’s not the point. What concerns me is that you will tell her. I don’t have any guarantee that you won’t tell her…Whatever it is that you were sent to find. I’m not taking any chances. And besides, we’re going to get that magic out of you. If anything, you should be thanking us.”

He shook his head. “But at the end of it, you’re not going ashore when we return, and after all this, I’m not going to moor Sada Kurau at the docks, anyway.”[/color] Although he hadn’t any intention to reassure the girl, he still nevertheless added, “Don’t worry. You’re not stuck here forever. We’ll have to go home someday, and when that day comes, you’ll certainly be released. It’ll be an earlier release if you can somehow convince us that you’re not going to go running back to your mistress, however. Though I’ll be fair and tell you right now that as far as we’re concerned, you’re a liar. Your words’ not worth the air you use for them.”[/color]

Dahlia tapped her foot. If she didn’t get off this ship, they’d certainly kill her parents. She’d have to play ball.. “Let’s be real for a second—keeping me here? That’s not going to stop these people. If anything, it’s just going to make them come after you harder. And me? I’m your only shot at staying ahead.”

She paused, then tilted her head with a sweet but condescending smile. “Unless you think you’ve got it all figured out. Maybe you like surprises, like waking up to your ship under siege. But me? I’d rather avoid that. I’m offering you a heads-up—a chance to know what she’s planning before she makes her next move. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Sjan-dehk arched his brow at the thought of Sada Kurau coming under attack. He resisted the urge to grin or smirk, and instead kept his expression neutral as the girl continued.

Dahlia threw her hands out in mock surrender. “But sure, go ahead. Keep me here, make me part of your crew or whatever. That’ll definitely end well. Because, you know, nothing screams ‘smart captain’ like forcing the one person who knows your enemy’s next move to swab decks instead of helping you avoid getting ambushed.” She let her words hang, then raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to argue.

She took a step closer. “Look, Captain, I’m trying to help you. You let me go when we hit port, and I’ll give you everything you need—names, plans, weaknesses. You’ll be ready, and I’ll be out of your hair. And look, I won’t tell them anything, I swear. They have my parents hostage so why would I care about helping them? I honestly just want to help my parents. It’s a win-win no matter how you look at it..”

She arched an eyebrow, her smirk returning. “Or you can keep me here and hope for the best. Your call, Captain.”

“Are you done?” Sjan-dehk asked. He didn’t wait for her to reply before going on. “Firstly, I appreciate your concern for Sada Kurau, but it’s unnecessary. She, us, we’re all veterans. Between us, we’ve fought more battles than anyone can count, and we’re still mostly alive. So if your masters and mistresses believe they can beat us in a fight, they’re more than welcome to try. I’ll personally invite them, even.”

He took a step back and finally allowed his grin to show. “And even if they win, and they slaughter me, and everyone aboard, and they burn Sada Kurau, it’ll be a hollow victory. The Commonwealth will take it as an act of war, and they will surely return to your lands with fleets and armies and plenty of devastation.”

Despite the weight of his words, he said them lightly. It was hard not to – the past five years had made war an almost normal activity. Part of him worried over that. Another part of him reminded him that the war was over, and that he shouldn’t be throwing that threat around lightly, even if he knew that the Commonwealth wasn’t the sort to turn the other cheek when slighted. He breathed out slowly through his nose.

“But I suppose you’re doing this for your parents, and that’s itself admirable,” he said. If his parents, or any of his siblings were taken captive, he doubted there were any lines he wouldn’t cross to rescue them. “So I think we can compromise. I’ll let you off on shore. You can return to your mistress, and you can find out for me why they sent you in the first place. That’s all I want to know.” He paused, letting his words hang in the air for a moment before giving the price for his offer. “But you must do two things. First, when you return to Sada Kurau, we will have your magic removed. And two, you’ll stay with us for a few days. Just to be safe, and just a little more incentive for you to not tell them anything that brings harm to us.”

Dahlia exhaled slowly. “Alright, Captain. You’ve made your point. I’ll take the deal. You let me off when the time comes, and I’ll get you the answers you want. No games.”

She straightened up slightly, “And for what it’s worth, I get it. You’ve got a ship to protect, a crew to think about. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. But this? It works for both of us.”
© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet