Interlude – Strategists at Sea (Pt. 2) (1/2)

“The Diamond Swords of Serept. One of the true relics of this world. Six blades, each forged by Serept of Khelt. A [King] beyond mere mortal [Kings]. He reigned for three thousand years before time consumed him. And no foe less than that ever humbled him.”

The swords shone in the ancient chest. Each one a different color; each one shaped of diamond.

Most people didn’t even know diamonds could take on color. More fools, they. But these blades had been forged of colored diamond. For instance—one was the shortest of swords, curved, a mix between a dagger and sword, really. And the diamond it had been made of was black.

Yet—transparent. Yet, lustrous. It shone in the light, the first time it had been seen in hundreds of years under the sun. Beautiful, deadly.

Magical.

“They are among Khelt’s great treasures. Each one is fit for a [General] or [King] of the old world. Perhaps none now live who are worthy of them. But a blade is meant to be used. And so—I offer my bargain.”

The speaker moved. His form was made of sand. Magic. An ancient curse. But it had replicated Fetohep of Khelt to perfection. He stood on the decks of the Emerald Signet, no longer the visage in the air. Speaking as he regarded his treasure.

“The chest is cursed. As are the artifacts. Death will befall any thief, as it did to those who stole the treasure from Khelt long ago. Yet, the blades endure. If Serept the Creator had any flaw, it was that his work was too perfect; the curse consumed the [Thieves] at sea so completely they never even uttered a word of distress. So my treasure was lost.”

The Revenant, the undead [King] turned his head. And he met a young [Lord]’s eyes. Wil Kallinad stood with Venaz, Feshi, Merrik, Yerranola, and Peki.

Staring. This was their adventure at sea. A tale of boredom, sea creatures, danger, friendship, failed romance, and hope, mixed with awe and fear throughout. But it had been their small adventure. Until this moment.

Now, they looked at a legend. And who more fitting to this story than Fetohep of Khelt? A ruler of an ancient nation. He looked at his blades, at Wil, and pointed.

“Boy. I say again: this is my bargain. It is no joke, or prank.”

His eyes flashed as the apparition spoke. It was powerful magic that gave Fetohep a presence thousands of miles from where he actually was. He gestured at the swords, each a different color and style.

“Three of the six swords. Half of the treasure that belongs to me. You will return the other three blades to my presence. And in exchange—I will grant you the use of the other three swords. For as long as you live. No longer.”

He turned his head, expecting a response. And Wil Kallinad was frozen. Because he had expected treasure, dreamed of it. But with it in front of him he couldn’t help but feel like he was dreaming.

It was Merrik who found his voice first. The Dwarf looked at Fetohep, gripping his beard in one fist. But his voice was steady. Forged of his own species’ resilience. He had seen wonders.

“Er—you, sir. You’re undead, ain’t you? Who are you, then? Some old spirit? How can we return your swords to you? Chuck ‘em back over the sides?”

Wil choked. Fetohep’s head slowly turned. But Merrik looked genuinely confused.

“I am Fetohep of Khelt. Dwarf. Ruler of Khelt, paradise of Chandrar. Do you not know of me?”

Peki started. She bowed slightly. Fetohep’s gaze flickered to her. Venaz copied the gesture.

“Khelt? Dead gods.”

He whispered, looking as stunned as Wil. Yerranola copied the gesture on the grounds that it was probably wise. But she and Feshi looked as confused as Merrik. The Dwarf bowed, eying his companions.

“I apologize, er, King Fetohep. I haven’t heard of Khelt. But I’ve never been to Chandrar.”

“And Khelt’s name has not reached Deríthal-vel? Do the Dwarves forget old friends so easily? Perhaps even legends fade. Perhaps young Atwood was correct…”

The [King] looked—disgruntled. Wil Kallinad spoke, trying, suddenly, to remember how to bow to the Chandrarian ruler. Just so—he made an attempt of it, putting his hand just below his heart, two fingers extended, sweeping his leg back like…

“King Fetohep. I am Wil Kallinad of Pheislant. I greet you and beg your majesty’s forgiveness.”

The eyes flashed at him.

“It is given, young man. As is the ignorance of your companions. I did not think to find my lost treasures today. But you have found them. So, once again, for a third time, I offer my bargain.”

He sounded overly patient. And he emphasized ‘my’. Wil gulped.

“Three swords, your Majesty?”

“Yes. You may pick each one. And you will make haste to Chandrar to deliver the other relics to me. Yes. You alone, Wil Kallinad.”

Fetohep twisted his fingers. The swords flashed in the light—a trick of the blades, or magic? The sand-figure turned.

“The curse shall seize whomever touches my swords. However—Wil Kallinad, I grant you the right to touch my blades. And those three blades you first pick will be yours to share. Again, until your deaths.”

“What happens then?”

Fetohep looked at Yerranola. The Selphid hurriedly bowed again. The [King] sounded impatient, and moderated his tone as if he was speaking to dullards.

“The blades shall return to me. Upon your death. In the light of the sun they cannot escape my gaze. So they will come to Khelt. Any attempt to hide them away will meet with the curse of Khelt. And it will consume the blood of any who attempt to withhold them, down to the last child of those who would steal from me. Do you…understand what I am offering you?”

The [King] seemed to fear this was very much in doubt. The students traded looks. The [Sailors], Captain Lasc, and everyone else were just staring. Wil still wanted to know if this was a trick. But Merrik spoke up again.

“So, three of the six swords, your Majesty? And you can locate them after our deaths? Seems a rather fortuitous deal to suddenly make. What’s to stop us from claiming six? There are…six of us. Perhaps we could take all six and return them to you before we die? Anyways, if three of us were to get the swords, what about me? I’m a Dwarf. Time lasts for me longer than most folk.”

He sounded like he was debating the Titan, the Professor in class. But Fetohep was not Niers Astoragon. He looked at Merrik. And then he laughed.

With dark humor. With amusement at the effrontery. The sand making up his body expanded. The [King] rose, looking down at Merrik. The people on the ship.

“Your lifespan is still short compared to mine. And if you would try Khelt’s wrath, pick up the sword, Dwarf. Do not take my offer as weakness; I make it because my generosity outweighs the gratitude you have done me for locating my treasure. I could take my swords back.”

He flicked his wrist. A vortex of sand engulfed the Kheltian chest. A miniature maelstrom. And the stone chest and swords began to lift off the ground. Higher, higher. Wil cried out with dismay. Feshi sighed.

“Damn it, Merrik.”

The chest soared across the sea as Fetohep pointed. But it circled back. And the ruler spread his arms.

“But I still offer this bargain out of the mortality I remember. Gratitude. For acts of daring, for luck, for these things should be rewarded. Now. Tell me, Dwarf.”

He leaned down. Merrik stared up at the glowing eyes.

“Do you wish to bargain with me? For I am no [Merchant].”

Merrik raised his hands. He grinned, backing up, as the chest lowered itself to the deck.

“No, your Majesty. Please excuse my impertinence. I’ve a tongue on me. Too chatty by far. That’s what the old grandfathers used to say.”

“It is excused, Dwarf.”

The [King] shrank back down. He looked from face to face. Now, curiously.

“A Terandrian [Lord]. A Dwarf. A Selphid, a son of the House of Minos, a Plains Gnoll. And a Garuda. Do you hail from Chandrar, girl?”

He looked at Peki. The [Martial Artist] bowed, in a different style. A warrior’s salute.

“I come from Pomle.”

“Ah. How did such a group come searching for my treasure?”

Fetohep turned to Wil. The young [Lord] replied, trying to explain.

“We’re…students of the Titan of Baleros, Niers Astoragon, your Majesty. And we…”

The undead [King]’s eyes flickered at the Titan’s name. And he smiled—although his emaciated face was always smiling.

“I see. Youthful adventure. Then, thank your luck, young Kallinad. You have the right of choosing of the Swords of Serept. If you choose, choose wisely; each one is different. If not…I shall return in one day’s time. Give me your answer then.”

He raised a hand before Wil could respond, and his form collapsed into sand. The sand blew off the side of the ship, and into the sea. And then—only the diamond swords remained. Wil stared, wide-eyed, around at the others.

It had been such a quick encounter. And yet—his mind was spinning. Venaz exhaled slowly.

“He could have blasted our flesh from our bones. What was that? Some kind of astral projection spell. And yet, the power. Wil, you didn’t tell me the chest was cursed.”

He gave Wil a vaguely reproachful look. Wil weakly spoke.

“I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. Even the Professor’s notes said it was unlikely to be the actual treasure…”

He looked at a [Storm Sailor] standing to the side. Inky’s eyes were wide. As awed as the other’s. She looked at him.

“It was just sitting there. In a pile of bones. Was that undead a…ruler of Khelt?”

“The Kingdom of Undead. Ruled by nigh-immortal monarchs. A beauteous place, or so it’s said. For the few that enter. Never conquered; even the King of Destruction struck a deal rather than invade.”

Lasc murmured. He shook himself. And stared at Wil, purely shocked. The swords glittered in the chest. A black dagger, a green diamond greatsword. A rose blade, with only one edge. A yellow longsword…

Magic. Treasure. Relics. Relic-class artifacts. Wil felt light-headed.

“This isn’t happening. Yerra? Pinch me.”

“I’m trying. But it’s not working on me. But if I feel something, I know I’m dreaming. Dead gods. Dead gods—we found something.”

The Selphid was pinching her dead flesh. Feshi was sniffing the air, wide-eyed.

“We found them? Just—lying there? What will you do, Wil? Take the offer, surely? But would not someone steal them?”

“Fetohep might object. But maybe he only knows where the blades are. How strong’s the curse? How…am I dreaming?”

Wil murmured weakly. He looked around. His friends were gazing at him. The [Sailors] were murmuring. But it was a different kind of awe than seeing the Treant.

Treasure. Wil felt it tugging at him. But he had to know. He reached for one arm, and hesitated.

“Peki? Hit me.”

The Garuda turned her head. She nodded. Merrik’s head snapped around.

“No, wait. Peki, don’t actually—”

Wil saw the Garuda raise a fist—

—-

Wil Kallinad woke up in his bunk with a jaw that felt broken.

It wasn’t. But he groaned and would have shouted with the pain except that just made the jaw feel worse. He felt for a healing potion, drank it, and got up.

Someone—something was going insane abovedecks. Wil stumbled up the stairs. It was dark. But the entire crew of The Emerald Signet was on the decks.

Drinking. They cheered as they saw Wil, lifting mugs. Countless barrels had been breached, and food and liquor was being consumed liberally.

The ship was celebrating. Including Wil’s friends. He saw Peki duck her head and hide behind a wing as he stumbled towards them.

“Wil! Never ask Peki to punch you! But she’s sorry, right, Peki?”

“Sorry.”

The Garuda looked shamefaced. Wil stared around. Everyone was partying. The chest was closed and guarded by a group of [Storm Sailors], but even they were drinking. And Captain Lasc was toasting Wil.

“A treasure of Khelt! Now there’s a story worthy of the seas!”

He looked at Wil, raising his mug. Wil looked around. Feshi was passing around a refill to his friends. Then a huge arm grabbed him.

“Wil. You’ve done it. That is to say—the Professor was right. A treasure. And relics. I’m envious. However—it’s yours by right. And this all started of Daquin. Come, you have to toast with me! The world won’t forget your name in a hurry! No—this is the beginning of your legend.”

Venaz was slightly wet-eyed as he raised a mug. He towed Wil towards the center of the ship and everyone shouted as Venaz slammed a hand on Wil’s shoulder.

“Treasure!”

The Minotaur roared. Wil could smell how drunk he was. Dumbfounded, the [Lord] looked around. But he’d missed hours of this. Apparently—once the shock had worn off, a massive party had begun.

And everyone had convinced themselves this was real. Feshi had even plucked some fur off her arm—electing not to be hit by Peki. The Gnoll, Yerra, everyone was looking at Wil.

So, gradually, he realized it was real. Wil had to have a drink. And there was plenty about.

“Three blades. To give to anyone of your choosing. Imagine if the Professor were to get one? You could trade them.”

“Fetohep might not approve of passing them about. Sounded like Wil had to choose.”

Merrik was wagging a finger. But Inky, Delivan, the other [Sailors] were staring at Wil out of the corner of their eyes. Venaz was nodding.

“Well, yes. Perhaps it’s not that simple. But if Wil says ‘yes’—and what benefit is there to saying no?—he suddenly has a mission.”

“Chandrar. It’s far from Izril. But—well, the blades are important. If you could drop me at a port before we go there, I could go to Izril.”

Feshi was nodding. The others were looking at Wil. And he—well, he was about four drinks in by this time and his head was spinning.

“I just can’t believe—”

“Enough of that! It’s real! As real as anything! What are you going to do, Wil?”

Yerra was happily soused. She leaned on Wil, hugging him with excitement for her friend. And Wil Kallinad thought as he downed his drink.

—-

The next day, Fetohep of Khelt appeared in a whirling spectacle of sand on the decks of the ship. He paused, and looked around.

Face-down [Sailors]. A few comatose forms. Had the ship already been attacked for his treasures?

No—they were just drunk. Or hung over and wishing they were dead. Fetohep saw a group of people start.

“Oh—oh—dead gods, he’s here. Is it day already?”

A Selphid stared up at the bright, blue skies. She wobbled out of her seat and rolled over on the moving deck. The undead [King] stared at her as she waved at something past his shoulder.

“Hey. Heeey. It’s me. Yerranola. Wil—he’s got a decision.”

A [Lord] unsteadily rose to his feet. He was still drunk. But he had made his decision.

“King Fetohep of Khelt—I accept your terms. But—may I beg some of your time? We have one last place to visit. A shipwreck. With treasure. Not as glorious as yours—or more glorious, actually. May we visit it first?”

He was doing his best to be polite. The ruler of Khelt, the immortal undead, Fetohep, eyed Wil’s unfocused gaze. He spoke, curtly.

“By all means. What is time to one such as I? But I have your word?”

“Yes. Three swords, right?”

“…That is what I said.”

Wil Kallinad nodded a few times. He looked for Captain Lasc, who’d passed out in his cabin. Vaguely, Wil waved his hand.

“We sail to Chandrar! After the last shipwreck.”

He clarified and the awake drunks cheered. Some people on deck woke up and spat curses. Fetohep saw a figure standing next to the steering wheel jerk up.

“To Chandrar!”

Merrik swung the ship’s wheel around. Wil’s face went slack as his friends turned. The boom swung across the deck. Wil ducked. So did Feshi. Peki, Venaz, and Yerra didn’t.

Fetohep of Khelt saw the three go overboard. There was a splash, confusion—the [King] sighed. He looked at Wil and turned away.

“Mortals.”

—-

An Alluring Prize; a Sailor’s Nightmare

Drunken excitement. Incredulity. The first day, The Emerald Signet was chaos. But as the second day dawned, aching heads led to purpose. The ship set sail; for there was one last shipwreck to investigate. And Fetohep, overly patient and perhaps, regretting his generosity, had allowed it before their transit to Chandrar.

But the ship was in search of a final treasure. And—if you thought the excitement was at a fever’s pitch, it was even higher. Because Wil and his friends had a thought.

The final shipwreck might contain something even greater. What that might be, only Wil knew. And he refused to share. But his anticipation was a physical thing.

A Dragonship.

So the Storm Ship, eagerly led by Captain Lasc, sailed off in search of that ninth and final shipwreck. They had a ways to go. The first day of the final leg of their journey was libations.

The second was hangover, planning. And on the third? There was a battle.

Under the sea, two Drowned Ships clashed. Captain Therrium of The Passing Shadow led his crew through the waters. The Drowned Folk swam out of the magical field protecting their ship. Into another pocket of air. They hit the decks, showering water, and locked blades with the enemy crew.

In near-silence. The two ships fought in the dark waters. Therrium, half-Eel, swung his sword with vicious grace. Each time he locked blades with another enemy [Depth Sailor], an electrical current shocked his opponent, running though his enchanted blade.

His [First Mate] was just as deadly. Half-starfish, she cut and hacked with two blades, a hatchet and shortsword, eschewing safety. Her wounds began to heal and she was fearless. Even when the enemy [Captain] hacked half the fingers off her right hand, she just slashed with her other axe.

The fighting was short, fierce, and bitter. But not bloody—at least, not as much as it could have been. The other [Depth Captain] surrendered, presenting her blade to Therrium. The Drowned Man grimaced, counting the wounded; the other ship had surrendered rather than be slaughtered.

“You sail under my command now.”

He snapped at the [Depth Captain] who’d lost. She compressed her lips, but signed the document.

“For six months, aye. And the treasure?”

“We wait! A final shipwreck awaits and I will have the entirety of it or naught at all. The landfolk’s luck is running strong. We wait.”

That had been what the quarrel was about. The other ship had wanted to attack now and claim the Swords of Serept. Therrium had disagreed. Now, he had two ships under his command. But—he was restless.

“They have a Kheltian treasure, Captain. Better to cut our losses and seize them now, rather than later?”

The [First Mate] examined her slowly-regrowing fingers as the others tended to their wounds. The defeated crew were doing the same, heads hung low. The Undersea Crews often came to blows. But they didn’t kill each other; they preferred submission to slaughter of their own kind.

“Patience has gotten us further than not. I say we wait. After all—that [Lord] is as keen on the final shipwreck as he is on those relics. What’s worth delaying claiming the blades?”

The crew looked up sharply as Therrium stared around. The [First Mate]’s eyes lit up.

“An even greater treasure, Captain?”

“Exactly. Now, get the ships moving. Get our [Mages]—I’ll blow winds in the sails of the landfolk if I have to!”

Therrium gritted his teeth. He was taking a risk. More treasure. Something…his instincts were screaming there was a double fortune to be had. But he was worried. He cursed as The Emerald Signet moved too slowly for him, for all it was covering the ocean at a quick pace. But it would have been too slow even if it moved as fast as the Illuminary for Therrium.

Because word was spreading. The students had found the Diamond Swords of Serept. And now—everyone was aware of that fact.

—-

Wil Kallinad was not an idiot. Or he tried not to be. Nor was Captain Lasc. After that day of libations, Wil had suddenly realized the swords made him the biggest target on the sea.

Lasc was already on top of that. He’d posted his most trusted [Sailors] around the chest. Not Inky, in fact, but [Storm Sailors] who’d served with him for over ten years in some cases. And he had blunt words for Wil.

“If you think there’s something worth searching for, I’ll deliver you to this final shipwreck, Lord Kallinad. But until then—I’ll be plotting a course away from every major sailing route, sir. And I’ll treat every vessel we come across as potentially hostile. Any [Pirate] gets wind of this bounty and we’ll be fighting for our lives.”

The chest was under lock and key—well, metaphorically. It was sitting in the center of the ship; the crew had moved it there, but they’d feared to stow it below. Fetohep of Khelt had warned dire consequences for anyone but Wil who touched the blades.

So, now the ship sailed. Wil had helped Lasc plot the most evasive route he could devise towards his final destination. But no one, not even the [Storm Captain] knew where the final shipwreck was. Wil was on tenterhooks—

For the first four days. But he was at sea. And even with the [Storm Captain] and an excellent ship, the sea was vast.

“The Emerald Signet moves faster than most ships her size, especially without as much cargo, sirs. We’re running high on the waters, actually. But we’ll still be six more days at sea.”

Delivan announced. The [Strategists] nodded. They were taking turns guarding the chest with the [Storm Sailors]. And—debating.

“So, what will you do with the swords, Wil? The three of them you can pick, I mean?”

“I hope I can ask Fetohep what each of them do. They must have different enchantments. And—I might bequeath all of them away.”

Wil grimaced at the thought. But he had been debating for the last four days with his friends the most optimal way to use the bounty. Merrik looked shocked.

“You won’t keep even one? You can’t imagine how powerful a single blade might make you! I can’t imagine it! Are you mad?”

“We’ve been over this, Merrik. Wil is a decent fighter, but those swords are best used in the hands of experts. I myself would give them away if I owned them.”

Venaz didn’t look happy to admit that, but he had agreed with Wil. The [Lord] was nodding.

“I…I might give all three away. One has to go to the King of Pheislant. The monarchy would be offended if I didn’t. And it will boost House Kallinad’s reputation through the ceiling.”

“Damn. Politics over relics?”

Merrik spluttered. Wil raised an admonitory finger.

“It might deter Ailendamus. It’s smart, Merrik. The second blade? I might…give it to Lady Foliana.”

“Three-Color Stalker?”

Feshi was combing her hair. She glanced up. Wil nodded as the others inhaled.

“In exchange for the Professor giving me suitable artifacts or money in return.”

“Smart. As if people weren’t afraid of Lady Foliana enough already.”

Yerranola was lounging on a bed; Peki was the only one absent, being chosen to sit with the chest. They rotated every half-hour—every few hours at night. The [Storm Sailors] were keeping watch too, but Wil didn’t dare take his eyes off the chest.

“If I get anything, I’ll share it with all of you. Fair’s fair.”

“Aw, that’s noble of you, lad. And of course, we’ll accept.”

Merrik laughed and the others chortled. No false modesty here. The students didn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth; they immediately sold it off and counted their gold. Venaz glanced up.

“It will be worth it, just to say we participated in this trip. Let alone if we find whatever has you so excited for the ninth shipwreck. And to visit Khelt. I hear it is a paradise. But where might the third blade go, Wil?”

The Lord Kallinad looked embarrassed. He scratched at his head.

“Well—I might just make it a gift to the Order itself. But, um, I think it’d go best to my sister. Talia. She’s a Knight of the Summer. And the Order of Seasons would owe me a debt. If she refuses—perhaps to one of the Knight-Commanders. I doubt they’d refuse.”

“Smart.”

The others agreed. But Merrik looked wistful.

“If I didn’t think that Fetohep fellow was being serious, I’d risk swinging the blades about. Not to steal, but—I wonder if he’ll let us hold them? Just once?”

“We can always ask. He seemed rather reasonable. And generous.”

Yerranola smiled. The others looked at her, nodding. Feshi sighed.

“I wish I could go with you. But I can’t travel all the way to Khelt and back and expect to make it to the Meeting of Tribes. I’ll sail to Izril as soon as we make port.”

“We’re…passing by the House of Minos. Assuming this isn’t part of a trick, we could charter a ship from there, Feshi.”

Venaz glanced at Wil. The [Lord] locked his lips.

“I can’t say anything. But we’ll get you to the Meeting of Tribes, Feshi. Anyways, that’s my plan. I know it’s not dramatic—”

“But it’s smart. No need to die over the blades. I get it. I just wish I could own them.”

Merrik leaned back. He reached for a wine flask. Then frowned.

“Empty. Venaz, pour me something out of that keg.”

The Minotaur reached over and pressed on a tap. Nothing happened. The other students sighed.

“Who’s going to get more drinks? Not me.”

Yerranola instantly raised her hand. The others did likewise. Wil was slowest. With good humor, he rose. He walked up the deck, on top of the world. True, nothing was happening now and they had more time at sea—but he had done it.

Strange—he didn’t feel like he’d earned the blades. And he hadn’t. But then—he wasn’t going to own any of them. Privately, in his heart of hearts, Wil was hurt by that too. He would have loved to own…well, he didn’t even know what the swords did. And that was for the best.

“Delivan, do we have anything to drink? We’re out.”

Wil hailed the [First Mate] on the deck. The man looked up. So did Inky and a small gathering of [Sailors]. The [First Mate] grimaced.

“You too? This might be worse than I thought. Lord Kallinad—we might have a situation on our hands that needs resolving soonest.”

Delivan glanced around. So did Wil, reading the expressions on the other sailors.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re out of drink. We must have used it up all during the party.”

Inky crossed her arms. She looked bad-tempered. The other [Sailors] murmured. Wil hesitated.

“Well, we’re about a week from our destination. We’ll have to make do.”

“No, we bleeding well won’t.”

Begal snapped. The [Lord] looked at him. Delivan gestured.

“Lord Kallinad. Might I explain a few customs of the sea? Including the Sailor’s Ration? Captain Lasc! We’ve a situation on our hands.”

He looked grave. And Wil slowly realized they’d reached the [Sailor]’s worst nightmare. Worse than krakens, or monsters, or being becalmed.

No. Rum.

—-

The Merchant’s Garden

The Sailor’s Ration was a nautical term. It referred to, well, the standard food a [Sailor] got per day. If they were running out, it might not be much food, or good food. Of course—any good ship had bags of holding, and barrels besides.

Horrible hardtack, water, bread—all that could be eaten. But what couldn’t run out, the truest part of the Sailor’s Ration that they really meant when they referred to it was—rum. Alcohol. Liquor of any kind.

It could not be allowed to run out. Or dire things happened.

“Y’see, Lord Kallinad, a man or woman on the seas can live eating hardtack, even with their bleedin’ gums. They can fight monsters and sail through storms. But not go thirsty. Each [Sailor] gets their tot per day. And they need it. It’s the only thing that keeps them going. It runs out and, well, it’s bad.”

Delivan explained as Captain Lasc cursed over the absence.

“We shouldn’t have breached so many kegs. But I didn’t think to count for the celebration. There’s no hope for it. We’ll have to find someone to trade with. Worst case? We make for the House of Minos.”

“Over alcohol? Captain Lasc, you agreed that being covert was key!”

Wil was aghast. The [Storm Captain] shook his head.

“Lord Kallinad, lack of the Sailor’s Ration is the surest path to mutiny. I won’t risk it. The crew? They drink the stuff with each meal. You want to imagine what happens when it runs out? Fights will start occurring within the day.”

The [Lord] covered his face. He could just imagine; he had classmates who were just as alcoholic.

“Please tell me we don’t have to visit a port.”

He wasn’t about to have every [Thief] coming after the treasure. Although…did Minotaur [Thieves] exist? That might almost be worth seeing. But the [Captain] was shaking his head.

“We can cast about for local ships. I’ve a Skill—[Ship’s Beacon]. Most [Captains] have some method, even if it’s a [Message] scroll. By your leave, Lord Kallinad. We’ll know if any ship is willing to trade us within the day. If there are any in these waters, they will; they know a Sailor’s Ration. Won’t take more than a bit.”

And sure enough—the [Captain] fired what looked like a glowing, green flare of light from the prow of his ship. And Wil saw an answering flare within five minutes, far distant. The [Captain] turned his ship. And that was that.

“We’re meeting a foreign ship in the waters with a relic-class treasure just to get rum?”

Feshi looked horrified as the crew loitered on the decks. Most of them—including Merrik and Yerranola—gave her incredulous looks.

“Of course. We can’t do without rum!”

“Or whiskey. I’d sooner cut off my leg. At least that grows back. We ran out last night. You lot were lucky you had some left! I’d have come calling if I knew you still had some!”

Inky hung over the railing, looking miserable. Like any true alcoholic—she was already looking antsy. Wil glanced at her.

“But it can’t be that bad, Inky. If you had to go without drink for a week—”

“I’d kill you and eat your liver, Lord Kallinad. You think your lot drinks? That’s cute.”

The [Storm Sailor] didn’t bat an eyelid. Venaz folded his arms.

“I’ve seen you [Sailors] drink, Inky. I’d say the Titan’s students can keep up with you.”

The part-Octopus woman laughed. So did the other [Sailors]. Inky shook her head at the Minotaur.

“Sea Cow, you think that’s all there is to it? We might not be able to outdrink Minotaurs, but—we have a stiff glass of whiskey for breakfast. We’re always drunk. You’ve never talked to me when I’m not partly sloshed.”

“Dead gods.”

Even Yerranola looked impressed. Inky stared into the sea.

“Hard enough keeping sky watch, sea watch, and undersea watch while you’re sober.”

“So all that stuff you told me about enjoying the sea…?”

Wil raised one eyebrow. Inky glanced at him.

“Obviously I was tellin’ the truth, Lord Kallinad. But the drink makes it better. Think you’d get [Sailors] willing to stare at the sea for hours sober?”

And that was that. The Emerald Signet cut through the waters. And soon enough, Wil saw a distant ship.

“Ship sighted! I’m readin’ The Gold of Paxil, Captain!”

“That’s a Balerosian ship. [Merchant] name. Seems true enough. Take us closer. And raise the flags!”

Captain Lasc ordered. Wil saw the other ship doing the same. It was indeed a merchant’s ship. A galleon, same as The Emerald Signet.

Nevertheless, the crew was leery of the other ship. They’d thrown a tarp over the treasure chest, and they stood at the railing, calling out to the other ship.

It was crewed, Wil saw, by Lizardfolk. And the [Captain] was a Naga.

“Hail to you, Storm Captain! What seems to be the problem? Or are you here for trade?”

A bestrewn Naga, covered in wealth from bangles to rich clothing as they so liked to do was at the helm. He was a [Merchant Captain] and smiled as the Lizardfolk called greetings. Captain Lasc shouted back.

“Trade is our goal, sir! Do you have spare drink? We’ve spent our Sailor’s Ration and my crew is in dire straits!”

“Why of course! For a small fee, we can share our drink! Come aboard! I’ll swear on truth spell that we mean only to trade in peace! And we’ve other goods—we’re bound for Wistram! More than enough alcohol to go around!”

“That’s a relief. Those [Mages] won’t miss a few dozen kegs.”

Merrik murmured to Peki. The Garuda snorted.

“They drink a lot.”

Wil wasn’t sure that his fellow students and he were the ones to be throwing stones. But the two ships were docking.

There was a procedure for making sure the opposition wasn’t planning something devious or underhanded. Lasc shouted across the deck while the other side cast a [Detect Lies] spell.

“I’m not a [Pirate] or planning to attack you in any way!”

“Me neither!”

The Naga [Captain] shouted back. The formalities completed, the two strode over the gangplanks and shook hands.

“And what takes your ship around Minos’ waters? Trade? We run this route; it’s preferable to save time by going through Minotaur waters. And yourself?”

“Escorting a few of my passengers to Terandria. We ran into some trouble along the way. [Necromancers]. But all’s settled; we just happened to use up most of our rum celebrating. We’d have stopped at Minos, but you were closer. You have our thanks.”

Captain Lasc lied fairly smoothly, blending truth with omission. The [Merchant Captain] chortled.

“So I see. May I know your name, sir?”

“Lord Charles de Trevalier.”

Wil lied smoothly. It was standard practice for the Kallinad family to pretend to be one of their enemies if they had to pretend to their nobility. Wil had chosen a particularly annoying member of the Trevalier family he’d known as a boy. The [Merchant] beamed, shaking his hand and going down the line.

“Charmed, charmed! Welcome, Lord Trevalier. And if I can interest you in my wares? I’ll have the drinks delivered at once. Let’s talk about the price…”

Lizardfolk [Sailors] were already merrily rolling up barrels of relief for the crew of The Emerald Signet to cheers from Lasc’s crew. The [Captain] began haggling with the Naga as Wil and his fellow students stepped aboard the other ship.

As a formality. Wil hissed at Peki (whom he did not exactly trust to keep her mouth shut), and Yerra (whom he didn’t trust for the exact same reason) to stay with the covered chest. They did so, much to Wil’s relief. And Captain Xenic, for that was his name, seemed to be exactly what he seemed to be: a [Merchant] who plied his goods across sea routes.

He had an interesting ship. Wil spotted a wide, glass deck in the middle of the ship. Perplexed, he found himself staring down into a veritable greenhouse of growing plants.

“What’s this? I didn’t know you could grow plants at sea!”

“And why not, Lord Charles? We have a fishery as well. We add to it with what we catch of course, but as you can see—I have [Expanded Cargo Hold] as a Skill.”

The garden and interior storage was indeed larger than the dimensions of the ship should allow. Fascinated, the students stared through the opening.

It was a neat little system. Sun would shine down through the glass ceiling, giving the plants light. For air—the crew could pull back parts of the deck. And water?

“[Hydromancers]. And water is easy to desalinate! Well, the garden is a huge savings. Each ship has their little secrets. Storm Captains and their ship spells, Drowned ships which can dive…we have mostly food products bound for Wistram. The [Mages] import all sorts. Lots of sugar and some rather smelly beans for some reason. Cacao, I think. But can I interest you in any of it? Prices may be steep…”

“I’m not in the market for much, Captain Xenic. But I’ll gladly purchase some…sugar? My Garuda friend loves it.”

Out of politeness, Wil spent some gold on a few bags of sugar. Costly, but Peki did love it. As did Yerra. And Feshi. And probably Inky if her gold teeth were any indication. Or maybe that was bad dental hygiene.

Xenic insisted on taking Wil below and showing him more of the garden and fish tank, which was impressive. The Lizardfolk crew could help themselves to snacks from the breeding and growing fish; they were mostly Lizardfolk. Only a few Nagas on board, including Xenic himself.

“That should be enough for two weeks without another party; more than enough time to get you to port without a disaster. Can I interest you in anything else?”

“No, Captain Xenic. And I thank you for your hospitality.”

“Not at all! Not at all! It’s a fascinating company you have, Lord Trevalier.”

The Naga twinkled at Wil. To the [Lord]’s relief, Venaz had kept his mouth shut and Merrik and Feshi had stoutly done the same. Now, the Naga looked at the different species and Wil tensed.

“May I ask where such a group gathered?”

Wil hesitated, then did his best impression of a Trevalier. He turned his head and narrowed his eyes.

“The Minotaur is a bodyguard. As for my companions—I believe that is my business, wouldn’t you agree?”

The Naga instantly bowed slightly, looking abashed.

“As you say, Lord Trevalier. My apologies. I am a curious sort.”

“Well, I shall accept your apology.”

Wil copied Fetohep’s mannerisms there. The [Captain] apologized again, and rather to Wil’s relief—that was the end of it.

No one asked about the covered treasure chest; the [Sailors] were doing their best to block the view of the other crew anyways. The Naga didn’t press too hard about Wil’s companions; why would he? It was polite conversation.

The barrels were loaded onto The Emerald Signet and paid for. All without a hitch. Because, and this was important: that was normally how it worked. Coincidental hijinks and unfortunate events did not occur.

Even so, Wil heaved a sigh of relief as the other ship sailed off. But it was done. He turned to Captain Lasc.

“Now may we continue our voyage?”

“Yes, Lord Kallinad. And we have the drinks to do it.”

The [Storm Captain] snatched a cup out of Yerra’s hand as she bent towards the first barrel, already being breached.

“With restraint to our passengers, of course. No more drinking games.”

“Damn.”

The Selphid sighed. But that was it.

—-

As The Gold of Paxil returned to its trip, Captain Xenic glanced over his shoulder. He had not asked about the odd passengers. Or the tarp over the chest. Or anything else, really.

Because he hadn’t needed to. The Naga already knew…all of it. And he carefully slithered into his cabin and checked the map.

“Aha. I have the coordinates. Someone, get a [Message] spell to Wistram, and…Lord Seagrass. I’m sure he’ll be happy to pay for the information.”

Captain Xenic chuckled to himself as his ship sailed at speed towards Wistram. He also had an [Aeromancer] on board and he could have outrun or caught The Emerald Signet if he chose. But he was a [Merchant]; he didn’t rob ships, even if he thought he could have taken the treasure.

And he’d earn a large enough bounty for relaying the location of Wil Kallinad to these sources. Xenic was laboring over his [Message] scroll, neatly writing down a few observation and the coordinates when he glanced up.

“Captain! Ships sighted on the horizon!”

“Oh, what now? Do they need more water? Food? Wait—did you say, ships?”

The [Merchant Captain] slithered out of his cabin. He stopped on the deck as the Lizardpeople [Sailors] pointed.

In the distance were a trio of ships, headed straight for The Gold of Paxil. Each one was flying a black flag, with a skull. And that skull was bleeding from one eye socket.

“The Bloodtear Pirates.”

Xenic’s smile vanished. He whirled.

“Take us about! Now! We sail for the House of Minos! Send a [Message]! Now!”

The Lizardfolk scrambled to obey. Xenic shouted.

“Fire every single scroll-spell we have! Dump the cargo! All of it!”

The ship turned, shedding inventory as fast as it could. But the Bloodtear Pirates were sailing straight at them. They did not respond to Xenic’s hails. They did not slow. And this?

This was just a diversion. A snack before the main course.

—-

Thirty minutes later, Captain Xenic slithered into his cabin. He stared down at the blood on his scales. He listened, as his crew surrendered outside the cabin. They had been…

Slaughtered. The survivors might live, if the Bloodtear Pirates didn’t seize the ship. And if they did—they’d still live. As [Slaves].

But not the [Captain]. Someone crashed into the door that Xenic had locked. The Naga looked up.

“I should have known they’d be followed. A costly mistake, that.”

He lay against his map table. Watching blood run onto the precious paper. An odd sight. The Naga slipped.

He was looking for something. His head was fuzzy. But he had a purpose. The [Merchant] had been cheated. Not by Wil. He’d made a business decision—been unprepared for the stakes. He bore Wil no ill-will.

“Funny.”

The Naga chuckled, and then refocused. He was rather bitter about being a small player in this…story. A casualty at the wrong place and the wrong time.

But even he could have one last bite. The door shook as someone cracked the reinforced wood. But Xenic had found it. He idly studied the [Message] scroll. With a flourish, he wrote a few last lines.

“…have been ambushed by the Bloodtear Pirates. In pursuit of The Emerald Signet. Captain Seagrass, hurry, if you intend to reach the ship on time. Yours…”

Xenic signed his name. Then he activated the scroll. It flashed and vanished as the Naga sat back. He was smiling, content, as the first [Pirate] strolled through the door. The Naga rose—

A sword cut through his midsection. The [Captain] of the Bloodtear Pirates turned.

“Loot the ship quickly. We’re returning to the hunt.”

That was all. A small detail on the waves. But it had mattered. The Emerald Signet sailed on, blissfully ignorant of what had happened. More days passed, without crisis or incident.

They were three days from their destination when it happened.

—-

Shocking Revelations and Sand Gets Everywhere

“I can tell you now we’re three days from our destination, Captain Lasc. But we’ll be taking a different route than what we have planned. And I’d like to discuss what will happen when we arrive at the shipwreck. It may be…the [Divers] will recover more than they can immediately haul.”

Wil Kallinad was speaking to Captain Lasc as the man plotted their course across the sea. They were relatively far from any useful landmarks. In the…well, sea. Featureless, at least from the air.

But they were still within range of the House of Minos. Wil pointed to it as Captain Lasc turned.

“Your final destination is yours to keep, Lord Kallinad. I’ll sail wherever you point me. If you want to steer us in circles for a few days, you have my command.”

The man really did seem to be decent and honest. Wil nodded at him, grateful.

“Thank you, Captain. Once we reach the shipwreck I think we’ll know as soon as it’s found. Assuming it’s there. If it is…significant, we may end up calling in the House of Minos for support. Venaz assured me their navy would respond to his call.”

Lasc’s eyebrows rose.

“That’s a force of the sea right there, Lord Kallinad. Begging your pardon—no, I won’t ask what we’ll find. But what manner of danger might there be?”

Wil hesitated.

“…I don’t know, Captain. But if it is anything like the crab, I’ll defer to your judgment.”

“Yes, Lord Kallinad. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Then—tell me where we’ll go today.”

Wil was giving the [Captain] a slightly circuitous route towards their final destination that would get them there in 3 days—if he corrected their course the next day. That done, he left the cabin.

“How much longer, Wil? I’m booooored.”

Yerranola announced as she stared at the treasure chest. The students were now playing cards and relaxing next to the chest. Inky was teaching them a sailor’s version of the game.

“Three days, Yerra. Be patient. We’re nearly there.”

“Fine. But I’ve gotten bored again. And the drinking is—okay, it’s helping a bit. But now I’m bored again.”

The Selphid flopped onto the deck, spread-eagled. Wil sat next to her as Feshi glanced suspiciously at Merrik’s hands. He was gambling well; Venaz, and Feshi had tells. Peki and Inky on the other hand were doing well. Merrik’s beard concealed most of his expressions.

They were done with discussing who might use the Swords of Serept best; Wil had considered everyone from The Blighted King to an Archmage of Wistram for maximum benefit. He’d stuck with Talia getting a blade if she wanted one, and possibly Foliana, but Venaz had assured him that there were better people to give the third blade to than Pheislant’s monarchies. Wil would see.

But it was in the future. Right now? Boredom, or rather, anticipation had resumed. And anticipation was worse, in a way. Yerranola stared up at Wil.

“Do something.”

Wil patted her on the head. The Selphid bit at his fingers. She was going stir-crazy.

“Unless you want to make that more serious, do something else, Wil.”

“Like what? Play chess?”

“No. Don’t wanna.”

“Play cards, then.”

“Don’t wanna.”

Wil exhaled. Yerranola was being willfully childish. He envied her, in a way. He cast around, had another lazy idea.

“How about we put on the scrying orb?”

“Oh—fine. We haven’t done it in…a while. Actually.”

Yerranola sat up. The other students glanced at her. They hadn’t used the scrying orb; Umina and Marian had kept them abreast of the Professor’s newest lessons. Wil set it up as Yerranola complained.

“I’m just sick of that Drake. Noass? He’s so—dismissive of non-Drake events. You know?”

“We know.”

Feshi growled as she put down her hand and folded her arms. Yerranola watched as Wil prodded the scrying orb. A figure flickered into focus. Well—two.

Noass was there. He was the regular anchor now—Sir Relz was more of a commentator while Noass delivered all the news. And the broadcast now had a system.

“If you’re just tuning in, you’re watching live, Wistram Worldwide! The WWW’s broadcast has all of the most important events in—the entire world! And of course, our first topic tonight: the sea. Obviously, essential. And we’ve been keeping an eye on this story the entire time.”

The Drake’s voice made Wil stir a bit. In the left side of the screen, he had a picture within a picture, a separate viewpoint. Of a ship. On the ocean. The other students looked up.

“Did he say the sea?”

“Mhm. We might find something interesting.”

Inky snorted as she shuffled the deck.

“From a landsman? I doubt it.”

“Joining us today is a special guest with a—seafarer’s perspective. Of the sea. I’m joined in the studio by Gold-rank adventurer, Seborn Sailwinds. Adventurer Sailwinds, I understand you grew up on the sea.”

“That’s correct. I’m a Drowned Man.”

The half-Crab [Rogue] sat at the desk, staring unblinkingly at Noass. The Drake was sweating a bit.

“Er—you’re new to Pallass, but I understand you have a historical career with the Halfseekers. But before that you were a [Sailor], correct?”

“I wasn’t a sailor. I was a [Pirate]. A member of the Undersea Crews. And I’m here to advertise my team. Hire the Halfseekers. There. I said it, Jelaqua.”

Seborn sat back in his chair. He stared into the ‘camera’ as he spoke. He didn’t seem as…eager to be here as most of the guests Noass brought on. The [Commentator] coughed.

“Er—we try not to advertise directly, Mister Sailwinds. So—so you were at sea? I understand it’s a lifestyle, to uh, sail. Different perspectives.”

“It’s Adventurer Seborn. And I’m a Drowned Man. Of course I lived at sea. I thought you were asking me intelligent questions.”

Noass colored.

“Well then, can you give us a rundown on the different sort of…enemies that might be inhibiting our people of interest?”

He gestured at the ship in the orb. Wil leaned forwards. It looked…familiar. But Seborn was speaking.

“It’ll mostly be [Pirates]. Or the Undersea crews. They’re on a Storm Ship—I doubt many [Storm Sailors] will attack their own, but it might happen for treasure of this magnitude.”

“Storm Sailors? Ah—you mean—no, but [Pirates] attack ships. [Storm Sailors] are, er, just [Sailors], correct?”

Noass was metaphorically at sea, up to his earholes, and floundering. Seborn took a long drink of the complimentary water with a lemon he’d been provided and spoke irritably.

“[Storm Sailors] aren’t always honest; they can turn to piracy, but they don’t have the class. And some Drowned Folk or those with some aspect of the sea can still be [Storm Sailors]. In the same way, [Pirates] can be Drowned Crews or airbreathers. And only Drowned Folk join the Undersea Crews; they become [Depth Sailors], not [Storm Sailors]. And the Undersea Crews are only loyal to Drowned Folk. Understand?”

Noass hesitated.

“It all sounds…er, very complex.”

“It’s not.”

The Drake was mopping at his brow with a handkerchief. That task was taken over by a Gnoll [Assistant], standing mostly off-screen.

“I—well, let’s cut to this attack. I understand The Gold of Paxil was sunk by a group of [Pirates] on an intercept course with this ship in all likelihood. By—the Bloodtear Pirates. What can you tell us about this group, Adventurer Seborn?”

All the students looked up. Yerranola sat up.

“Did he just say…?”

Seborn was nodding as an image of the Bloodtear Pirates’ flag appeared on screen, disappearing the one of the ship.

“Bloodtear Pirates. Marauders. They keep their word, but they give no quarter. They have a number of ships in their armada, spread out. Three is just an attack force. Still, more than enough to destroy a single Storm Ship.”

“I see. However, our, ah ship in question is carrying a full complement of [Storm Sailors] as well as regular ones and captained by an experienced [Storm Captain]. As well as six [Strategists]. Could that even the odds?”

“Three-to-one against Bloodtear Pirates? Not likely. How long do I have to be here?”

“Aw, come on, Seborn! At least smile for the audience! Hey, I’m his Captain. Can I go on—”

Another voice from the side. Noass snapped as Jelaqua, wearing a Drake’s body, was pulled off-screen.

“No! Er—apologies for the interruption, everyone. So—The Emerald Signet’s only chance is to outrun the opposition, is that right, Adventurer Seborn? But I doubt any group would lose the opportunity to seize The Diamond Swords of Serept. Can you rate that as a treasure on a scale of one to ten?”

“Eleven?”

“—And I think we have Archmage Nailihuaile waiting, who can give us a rundown of some of the effects of the blades! If you’re just tuning in, you’re watching Wistram Worldwide live! With me is Adventurer Seborn of the Halfseekers, and we’re…”

The image flicked back to the ship as Noass kept talking. Wil stared. He stared at the ship. Which was…very familiar. He just hadn’t recognized it because he hadn’t seen an aerial view of it.

It was a good view. It had, well a deck full of [Sailors], a nice view of the ship. A [Captain] at the helm. A treasure chest in the center…and sitting next to it…a group of students sitting at a table. Two were sitting on the ground and one was staring into a scrying orb.

Wil stared up at the sky. Then down at the orb. After about a minute, the image of the young man on the deck glanced up straight at the viewers for a second, and then looked back down.

“…Wil. Why are we on the scrying orb?”

Yerranola spoke very, very slowly. Wil’s ears were just ringing.

The Diamond Swords of Serept. And that—that Drake was saying it over and over again. Announcing to the entire damn world that—

“We’re being scried? We’re on the orb?”

Venaz stood up, incredulous. Feshi stood up, hair on end. She stared up, as if she could see the spell monitoring them.

“But how? Why? But they shouldn’t know we have the Swords of Serept. Not unless—”

“Captain Lasc! We have an emergency!”

Wil was on his feet, shouting. The [Captain] looked up, and vaulted over the command deck. He ran towards Wil, looking alarmed. So did the other [Sailors]. Delivan—Venaz swore.

“Wil! We have a spy! We have—”

He turned his head. Merrik and Peki put down their cards. They stared at Inky. The [Storm Sailor] stared back.

“Ah, no. Inky?”

“It wasn’t me!”

Venaz slowly reached for a sword. Merrik was swearing, pulling his armor out of his bag of holding. Captain Lasc looked at Wil, bewildered.

“What’s going on? Lord Kallinad?”

For answer, Wil pointed into the scrying orb. The crew stared into it. And—on the orb—Captain Lasc was captured vaulting over the deck. The view cut back to Noass, who spoke urgently.

“Um. It looks like something’s going on. Hold on, viewers. We are of course monitoring the ship via [Distant Vision], not scrying; the ship is warded. Let me see if we can get ahold of our contact on board the ship. Mister Begal? Hello?”

Suddenly, the voice was duplicated. One of the [Sailors] swore, recoiled, and clapped a hand to his side. A voice was speaking from the man’s pocket. Wil’s head slowly turned.

“Begal?”

“Damn idiot [Mages]—”

Captain Lasc whirled as the [Sailor] grinned and backed up desperately. Lasc turned to Wil.

“What’s going on?”

“They know. Everyone knows we have the swords! They’re broadcasting it from Wistram! They have our position—and we have [Pirates] on our tail!”

Wil leapt to his feet. The [Storm Captain] drew his sword with an oath. Noass peered at the stone in his claw.

“Oh wait, I’m being told we might have to wait until later. We’ll check back in later—uh oh. What’s happening on deck?”

Someone slapped the scrying orb. It went dark. Captain Lasc advanced and Begal stumbled backwards. The [Storm Captain] had drawn his sword and his metal gauntlet flashed.

“I should have known a crew like this would have one or two traitors. But you served on my ship four years. What did it take?”

“Just gold, Cap’n. No hard feelings, eh?”

Begal was smiling widely, desperately as he backed up. Captain Lasc aimed his shortsword at the man’s chest.

“Who hired you? How many more are with you? Tell us—and I might not keelhaul you right where you stand.”

The [Sailor] looked from side to side. His eyes darted. And then—he smiled.

“How many, Captain? More’n one or two. Looks like the jig’s up, boys. Show Captain Lasc how many of us were bought.”

There was a sound. Metal, sliding on metal. The crowd around Wil moved. [Sailors] stepped back. The crew of three hundred was on deck. And of that number—

Over two thirds of the crew drew their blades. Wil felt his stomach drop through the deck. Captain Lasc stared around, eyes wide. Delivan swore.

“All of you? You salt-sucking traitors!”

“Sorry, Captain Lasc. But everyone heard that there’d be real treasure on this voyage. We’ve been keeping our real employers updated every day and night.”

Another [Sailor] spoke up. She had a hand-crossbow aimed at Delivan’s chest. The loyal crew, less than a hundred, faced over two hundred mutineers. Wil looked to his side.

Inky stood with the loyalists. So did the [Storm Sailors], all of them. The female [Sailor] didn’t seem concerned as the [Storm Sailors] stood, looking around tensely, outnumbered two-to-one.

“I know [Storm Sailors] are good, but you and the [Strategists] are flanked, Captain Lasc. Throw down your blade. The treasure belongs to our employers.”

The mutineers nodded. Captain Lasc’s jaw twitched. Wil saw Venaz tensing by the table. But he had two dozen blades aimed at him. Merrik and Peki were standing together. But there were so many—and they had the drop on Wil’s side.

“Let’s negotiate. You heard King Fetohep. The curse—”

Wil croaked. He saw the female [Sailor] turn the crossbow towards him.

“I reckon that Fetohep will negotiate with whoever had the blades, boyo. And my bosses can defeat one curse. They know treasure. There’s no negotiations.”

Begal nodded. He bared his teeth. He opened his mouth, but the female [Sailor] spoke over him.

“The Bloodtear Pirates will have the swords. And any man, woman, or Selphid who don’t want to be slaughtered will surrender now.”

Wil stared at her in shock. So did the [Sailors]. Begal hesitated.

“The Bloodtear…? We’re working for the Undersea Crews! Therrium himself’s paying us, you idiot!”

The female [Sailor] blinked. She turned her head.

“The Undersea Crews?”

Another [Sailor] laughed incredulously.

“We’re hired by Savere! Are you both mad?”

“Wait—who’s with Savere? And who’s Bloodtear?”

“I’m with the Screaming Sails. The Bloodtears are our enemies!”

Another [Sailor] shouted. The organized mutineers looked at each other. They tried to point their blades at each other. And that was a mistake. Because one man knew whose side he was on.

Captain Lasc. As the [Sailors] around him wavered, his hand moved. He stepped forwards and beheaded Begal. He turned, stabbed his sword through another [Sailor]’s face. And his fist moved. He struck four chins and the [Sailors] crumpled. The mutineers stared as the [Storm Captain] raised his blade. He brought it down, slashing through the [Sailor] threatening Wil.

“To me, [Storm Sailors]! Slaughter these mutinous dogs!”

The stalemate erupted into chaos. Wil saw Venaz explode upwards. The mutineers began attacking Lasc’s crew—and each other, shouting. Three stabbed Venaz in the back.

The Minotaur ignored the blades. He grabbed the table, lifted it with a roar and swung it around him. Wil dove as [Sailors] were sent flying by the blow. The Minotaur lifted the table and threw it. A group of mutineers screamed as he drew a battleaxe.

“Form up! Wil! Get behind us!”

Yerranola and Feshi were fighting next to Delivan. Inky and the [Storm Sailors] howled as they drew their blades and cut into the lower-level [Sailors]. Merrik had his hammer out. He ignored the weapons bouncing off his armor and charged into the fighting. Peki was already punching and kicking, striking every mutineer—and some of the loyalists—around her.

Wil stood. He drew a sword and the emergency wand he carried. He locked blades with a traitorous [Sailor]. The man was strong. He raised his off-hand as Wil raised his wand. Both of them stared at the wand aimed at each other’s chests. They shouted and dodged.

A bolt of fire hit Wil in his chest. But his enchanted armor that Yerranola had made him wear took the spell. The other man was not so lucky. He fell with a hole in his neck. Wil turned, aiming his wand, slashing—

“[Battalion of Glory]! Use your damn Skills! Peki! Yerra! Wil! Get back here, Venaz!”

Merrik howled at the students. They began activating their skills and Lasc’s loyalists formed a formation against the disorganized mutineers. Too late, the traitors realized they had to work together or die. They tried to rally. But they were unprepared for the students being able to use their Skills. Merrik and Peki.

And Captain Lasc’s wrath. The [Storm Captain] pointed, and the deck erupted with a line of spikes, impaling dozens of the traitors. He was a blur, as his armored fist struck faces and deflected blades and even bolts and spells.

His blade cut down traitor after traitor. The battle was short and swift. Wil was pointing his wand at a fleeing [Sailor] when Feshi’s arrow took the female traitor in the back of the head. He looked around for another enemy, but they were all dead.

The deck was a massacre. Some of the traitors had surrendered. The rest had died. The [Storm Sailors] were panting. Their levels, aided by the [Strategists], had triumphed.

But—The Emerald Signet ran red with blood. And less than a hundred crew remained. Wil found Lasc, leaned on a railing. The [Storm Captain] wasn’t hurt badly. His wounds were already healing via potion. But he looked—

“Captain Lasc?”

“Traitors. I thought there might be. But not among my own crew. Some of them stayed with me for years, like that bastard, Begal, Lord Kallinad. But the ones who stuck around were—”

Lasc raised his head. Wil saw Inky helping fix up Venaz. The Minotaur had hacked apart [Sailors] but they’d cut into him without his armor. The Octopus-Woman grinned in response.

“[Storm Sailors] don’t jump ship so easily, mates. Even those of us who belong to the sea. Captain, what do we do with them?”

Delivan was staring at the traitors with his crossbow loaded and aimed. Lasc spoke curtly.

“They go over the plank. Or put a bolt in their heads, Delivan. Then get me any [Sailor] who can move.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Captain Lasc?”

Wil stared at the [Sailors] as they were ordered towards the sides. Some just climbed the railings and jumped; the others pleaded as Lasc strode towards the wheel.

“If their mates are in the area, they’ll live. Otherwise they can pray for Nelgaunts or the sea’s mercy. I don’t care. We can’t hold them and I won’t risk it. Lord Kallinad, we have to move. We’re being scried.”

The [Storm Captain] pointed up. Wil realized what he meant. His heart leapt. But his mind—began to move.

“We can’t cancel the scrying spell, Captain Lasc. They have us via remote surveillance, not a scrying spell. But we can lose the spell if we sail through fog or anything to obstruct it. I heard at least four different groups being shouted at us.”

“So did I. Each one dangerous names. We can’t fight any of ‘em. Not with a third of my crew. We sail for the House of Minos at once! To the sails! Get me my emergency items!”

Captain Lasc roared. [Sailors] ran. They were understaffed, but there were enough to do the work. Wil saw the boom turning; he looked around.

“Merrik! Get the scrying orb!”

“Why? So we can see that idiot who’s given us away?”

The Dwarf groused. Wil pointed.

“So we can see who’s coming after us! Venaz! Contact the House of Minos!”

“I need a [Message] spell!”

The Minotaur ran belowdecks. Wil saw Captain Lasc gritting his teeth.

“We’re less than a day away. If I use all of my [Gale] scrolls. We’ll blow a maelstrom into our sails, Lord Kallinad. But I don’t know if—”

He broke off. Wil saw the [Captain] stare at something past his head. Wil felt a shadow fall over his back. He heard a sound, roaring water.

Slowly, he turned. A warship had surfaced next to The Emerald Signet. And a Drowned Man stood on the railings, looking down at the two. He was half-Eel, his body rubbery. And he wore a [Captain]’s hat. He aimed a sword down at the crew as he spoke.

“I am Captain Therrium of The Passing Shadow. The ship behind you is The Sinking Light. We are the Undersea Crews. Surrender the treasure to us and you will live. Resist—and die.”

The Drowned Man’s crew stood at the railings. Aiming weapons down. Wil froze. He saw Captain Lasc hesitate. And then take his hand off the wheel. Slowly, he raised his hands.

“Salt take me. How long were you there? We watched the sea—”

“From the beginning. We dove lower than your eyes, [Storm Captain].”

A woman with a starfish’s body on her right half grinned down at Lasc. And on the other side—the other Drowned Ship was closing. Wil Kallinad closed his eyes. He heard boot steps on the deck. And then—the Drowned Folk were herding the [Sailors] into the center of the boat.

“Wil!”

Yerranola shouted. The students had their weapons out, but the Drowned Crew surrounded them. Captain Therrium glanced dismissively at Peki and Merrik as they backed up.

“Hold your blades, landfolk. I don’t intend to spill your blood. And I would have let you pick up the last of the treasure. But those idiots leaked too much information. So. This is it?”

He scowled, but smiled as he strode over to Kheltian casket. The crew was frozen as the Drowned Folk clustered around. Therrium sighed.

“Ah.”

“You’re making an enemy of the Titan of Baleros, Captain Therrium. And House Kallinad. I beg you, don’t do this.”

Wil’s heart was breaking. He saw the [Depth Captain] turn his head. The man smiled.

“I fear no landman, [Lordling]. Open the casket.”

He pointed at a [Depth Sailor]. Cautiously, the man did—using an oar. Therrium sighed as the diamond blades flashed with light. He nodded.

“We’ll take nothing else. Grab the casket and put it on my ship. Leave the landfolk unless they resist.”

He strode past Wil as the Drowned Crew cheered. Well—the ones from the other ship looked disgruntled, but a group of the [Depth Sailors] seized the chest. Wil stared at Therrium. The Drowned Man paused.

“It’s nothing personal, Lord Kallinad. You did much that even seafolk acknowledge. But your adventure was failed from the start. Thank yon friends for it.”

He nodded at Venaz and Yerranola. They paled.

“I’m so sorry, Wil—”

Yerranola began. Venaz clenched his fists.

“I don’t suppose you’d accept a duel, Captain Therrium?”

“And spill blood needlessly? No, Minotaur. I’m a practical [Captain]. No fool, like Rasea. We’ll be gone without blood spilled—well, other than already spilled. And let the world see how the Undersea Crews work.”

The Captain spoke, looking at the sky. Then he glanced around.

The scrying orb was still there. The [Mages] had enhanced it as much as possible, but it was barely more than an aerial view. But the [Depth Captain] was still visible.

And—Captain Therrium ignored Noass babbling about the ‘exciting and unexpected new developments’. He narrowed his eyes at the Drowned Man with a half-Crab body. Seborn stared into the picture.

“Ah. My boy.”

Captain Therrium spoke slowly. He reached for the orb. Seborn’s eyes narrowed. He cut off the Drake.

“Noass. I recognize that [Depth Captain] and crew.”

“You do? Tell us—who are they?”

The [Rogue] spoke slowly. And it was as if he locked eyes with his father from afar.

“That would be The Passing Shadow, one of the Undersea Crews. And the [Depth Captain] is Captain Therrium Sailwinds.”

“Sailwinds? Um—no relation?”

Noass grinned. Seborn folded his arms.

“Relation. Captain Therrium is a lawless [Thief]. Despised even by other Drowned Folk for not honoring his word. A backstabbing shrimp.”

The crew of The Passing Shadow jolted to a stop. They slowly turned to stare at Captain Therrium. The [Depth Captain]’s eyes narrowed. But then he grinned.

“Arrogant brat. I’ll give him his dues with this. And a lashing, which he also deserves. Load it up! And hurry! I don’t intend to stick around! I want us diving and out of range in five minutes!”

He roared at his crew. They lugged the chest towards the ship. Wil helplessly watched. His mind spun with ideas—all of which Niers would have termed ‘death-inviting’. Therrium was just…too cautious. He kept his crew on the decks, aiming their weapons at The Emerald Signet. Perhaps if Captain Lasc used [Depth Explosion]? But—that probably only worked underwater.

And—the Bloodtear Pirates weren’t here. No one was coming. So, as the Drowned Folk carried the casket, the [King] sighed. He raised one hand.

Sand flurried up from the casket, blowing the lid open. A figure rose from the deck as Therrium whirled. An undead [King] stood on the decks. His eyes flashed.

“Thieves. The Swords of Serept are not yours to take. Begone from this vessel.”

Fetohep of Khelt looked at Therrium. The [Depth Captain] recoiled, and then his eyes narrowed.

“Fetohep of Khelt.”

He nodded, slightly. The ruler of Khelt’s flaming sockets flashed with light. He turned his head and the Drowned Crew froze. The ones holding the casket hesitated.

“Relinquish my treasure to this ship, Drowned Man. It is not yours to take.”

The [Depth Captain] glanced at Fetohep, and then at Wil.

“And if I were to promise they’d reach Khelt? They will not by The Emerald Signet. The ship is mine, as are its treasures. But I’d not be averse to taking the same offer. Three blades, for a lifetime.”

Fetohep’s gaze had been flashing silent ire at Wil. Slowly, his head rotated.

“Did you mishear me, mortal? I gave you an order.”

Captain Therrium was taken aback.

“You…intend for me to put the treasure I’ve taken back? What of your deal?”

The undead ruler sighed.

“Mortals. You seem to not understand. My offer extends only to Wil Kallinad. Gratitude to the one who discovered my artifacts. It is not a ransom. And you have taken this ship? What of it? My treasure is mine. I do not negotiate with thieves.”

He grinned that undead grin. The [Depth Captain] heard a muffled laugh. Venaz turned his head away. But the Minotaur was smiling too. Captain Therrium put a hand on his sword.

“I see. In that case—I’ll have to claim the Swords of Serept forever. [First Mate]?”

He raised his Human hand. A Drowned Woman pointed her wand.

“[Dispel Magic].”

Fetohep’s form—wavered. The sand lost its cohesion. It fell to the deck, dissipating. Therrium snorted. Sand instantly began to whip around the chest, and the crew shouted, trying to hold onto it. But the [Depth Captain] only pointed.

“Curses. I’ve seen the sand trick. Hold it down.”

“[Anchor Lash]!”

One of his [Depth Sailors] pointed. A pair of anchors flew and lashed around the chest. The sand stopped lifting it up. Therrium waved the crew onwards as Wil’s heart sank. The [Depth Sailors] grabbed at the chest again. One of them, a half-Shrimp Drowned Man who’d been very hurt by Seborn’s comment, grabbed the handle. Then, puzzled, he looked down.

A hand was grabbing his arm. It was made of sand. And Fetohep’s face rose out of the box and the sand reformed.

“Fool. [The Desiccation of Zeikhal].”

Before Wil’s eyes, the Drowned Man—dried up. He turned into a mummy as the water was sucked from his body. A corpse. And then—his form dried up further. He fell to the ground, turning to dust. Only some yellowed bone remained.

The Drowned Crews stared at the dust. The ones holding the casket let go. It instantly clattered to the deck. Fetohep rose.

“You have earned my wr—”

Captain Therrium rolled his eyes and pointed a wand. The bolt of magic blew apart Fetohep’s head. He turned to his [First Mate].

“Lash the damn chest to the side of my ship. He can’t use the sand trick underwater. We’ll blast it with as many [Dispel Magic] spells as we need to.”

“Aye, Depth Captain! Grab the chest! Use ropes, idiots!”

The [First Mate] shouted. The Drowned Crew moved, throwing grapples. But before they could grab the casket—it shot open, snapping the anchor ropes.

This time a raging whirlwind of sand rose into the air. It engulfed all three ships. Wil shielded his face—but the sand only affected the Drowned Crews. They shouted, stumbling around. And a figure materialized in front of the stunned crew.

“Begin sailing, Kallinad. The sand will rage for ten minutes.”

Fetohep of Khelt’s flaming eyes stared at Wil. The [Lord] saw Captain Lasc jerk. Figures were rising out of the sands, attacking the Drowned Crews. Therrium whirled, hacking them apart with ease, but they kept coming.

“But—”

“Hurry. That Drowned Captain…may be able to combat the lesser elements of my curse. I do not care to waste my time on him. You have your chance. If you lose the chest again, I will recover it.”

The [King] glowered. Wil nodded. He turned.

“Captain Lasc!”

The [Storm Captain] was running for his wheel. The [Sailors] scrambled, cutting loose mooring lines. Captain Therrium saw.

“You were warned! Cut them all down!”

He tried to fight clear of the sands. His crews did likewise. They saw figures moving in the screen of sand. And then—

A table? It crashed into a group of Drowned Sailors. And Captain Therrium saw a group of forty [Storm Sailors]. Inky, and Merrik and Peki in front. The [Strategists] stood at their backs.

“[Unit: Enhanced Strength]. [Unstoppable Advance]. [Arrowguard Formation]…”

Venaz was murmuring Skills. At the same time, the other three [Strategists] were doing the same.

“[Lucky Dodge]. [Keen Blades]. [Ram’s Charge].”

Wil pointed at Therrium. The [Depth Captain] recoiled. He saw more sand-warriors coming out of the sandstorm whirling around him. And—four [Strategists] plus two [Commanders] were combining their abilities. He spun around.

“Back to the ship! Fall back!”

The Drowned Crews needed no encouragement. They streamed back to the ship. Wil exhaled. He looked at Venaz. Then—they turned.

“[Unit: Enhanced Strength]! [Unstoppable Advance]!”

The Minotaur began chanting again as Wil and the other [Storm Sailors] faced the second crew. The other [Depth Captain] saw Wil pointing.

“[Ram’s Charge]. [Blades of Glory]! [Everpiercing Swords]! [Unit: Form of Giants]—”

The [Strategist] saw her face pale. She shouted.

“Retreat! Let them burn their Skills!”

Her crew ran, as the sand-apparitions followed. Wil grinned. He didn’t have [Blades of Glory], or the other Skills he was shouting. The [Storm Sailors] rushed forwards, cutting the lines. Venaz was laughing.

Neither crew realized or remembered they’d used the Skills in a battle not ten minutes ago! They had to recharge! It didn’t take either [Depth Captain] long to realize the trick. They howled, but the gangplanks and ropes had been thrown off the ship. And The Emerald Signet was moving.

“After them!”

Captain Therrium was red in the face. He saw the [Storm Captain] unfurling a scroll.

“[Galewinds]!”

Lasc shouted. Instantly, a breeze filled The Emerald Signet’s sails. It shot forwards as the two Drowned Ships turned. And still—the sandstorm was battering the two ships.

For six more minutes. Captain Therrium was shielding his face. He cursed Fetohep’s magical protections. He’d grab the chest and strip them one layer at a time. He knew curses!

—-

The Emerald Signet emerged from the sandstorm with the two Drowned Ships in hot pursuit. Captain Lasc had a death-grip on his ship’s helm. His lookouts were shouting information as Delivan strode to the back of the ship.

“Permission to fire ship-spells, Captain?”

“Granted!”

“Aye, sir! [Depth Explosion]!”

A blast rocked The Passing Shadow. Therrium’s ship listed for a second—but it was reinforced.

“Damn! They have armor on them! These aren’t ordinary Drowned Ships! And they’re fast!”

“Not as fast as we are! Which is why they’re throwing spells! Brace!”

Inky shouted. She was halfway up the mast, staring backwards. She dropped to the deck as magical bolts of light began shooting from the other ships.

“Dead gods, that’s a bombardment spell! Watch out! Those are [Light Spears]!”

Dozens of the oversized magical arrows were hitting The Emerald Signet. Wil saw one burn a [Sailor] off her feet. He took cover behind the mast with the others.

“Take cover! We’re gaining! We’re headed straight for the House of Minos!”

Captain Lasc bellowed, ignoring the spells raining down around him. Two tore through the sails and he swore as the spells caught the fabric on fire.

“Douse those flames! Get to cover and get the wounded belowdecks! Drop all unnecessary cargo!”

He was steering the ship, trading some speed for a slight variation in their movement. A huge blast of fire missed the sails as Lasc spun the wheel, anticipating it. Helplessly, the students could only watch the other two ships gaining.

“We have to do something!”

“King Fetohep—can you help—King Fetohep?”

Wil turned. The casket was inert again. Merrik swore.

“Damn. I knew something was up! The ‘curse’ must have limited magic! No wonder the [King] wanted us to take the casket!”

“Don’t worry. A [Storm Ship] can outmaneuver Drowned Ships. And Lasc has a final option if we keep our distance. We can do this—”

Delivan was reassuring the others as he peered from the bow, using the few ship-spells Lasc had available to him through his bond as [First Mate]. Wil saw the other ships slowing a bit, even as they used their own wind spells to fill their sails. They were indeed slower; they were heavier in the water, built for withstanding pressure in the depths as well as above the sea!

But something made Wil loathe to celebrate. He turned his head. And his mind recalled a pertinent detail. Just in time too.

“Captain! Ships from dead ahead! They’re flying [Pirate] flags!”

“Ah.”

The [Strategists] looked up. None of them looked surprised. On the other hand, the sailors whirled, looking alarmed. Captain Lasc stared ahead.

“Those flags. Those are the Bloodtear Pirates.”

Inky went dead white. Feshi poked her head up as she aimed a bow at the ships to the rear.

“Any relation to the Bloodfeast Raiders? It’s a very common name, yes?”

“Maybe because both groups slaughter anyone they catch!”

Delivan shouted. Feshi paled. Wil saw Captain Lasc turn his head desperately, but it was the sea. There wasn’t much room to maneuver.

And—if the Drowned Ships were slower, the Bloodtear Pirates were not. Their sails were filled with magical wind and they were as fast as The Emerald Signet. Maybe…faster?

Wil saw the [Storm Captain] turn his head again, and then caught his eye.

“Lord Kallinad! Anything you and your friends can do would be appreciated!”

“Me?”

Wil started. And then he realized—the [Captain] was asking him for help. Inky, Delivan—the [Storm Sailors] were outmatched.

Yet, Wil knew nothing of the ocean. On the other hand…he narrowed his eyes as he saw the approaching Bloodtear Pirates. The pursuing Drowned Ships. And he realized.

This was his forte. A battle. It didn’t matter where or when. He knew little of the majesty of the sea. But war? He glanced at his fellow classmates. This was all they did. Wil took a breath as his mind began to race.

“Venaz, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Absolutely not. But I’ll listen to your idea and decide which one’s best.”

The Minotaur grinned. Yerranola looked up.

“You two have ideas too?”

“Almost like a time quiz, but the deadline is death. Eh, Peki?”

Merrik was calculating something on his fingers. Feshi nodded. The students broke into a huddle as the [Sailors] stared. Inky looked at Delivan.

“They’re mad.”

“Landlubbers.”

The [First Mate] agreed.

—-

Action, Drama, Reaction, and More Action.

The Bloodtear Pirates stormed through the seas towards The Emerald Signet and the pursuing Drowned Ships. They flew the colors of [Pirates]. And they issued no [Messages], shouted nothing.

They had only one desire when they hunted. They were quite genial other times. But on the chase? Never.

They saw the pursuit and closed on The Emerald Signet at all speed. Three ships. Captain Therrium hesitated when he saw them, but he bore on, cursing. It was a race to the treasure, nothing else.

The Bloodtear Pirates were readying attack spells when they saw something move from the first ship. A Garuda flew off The Emerald Signet. She raced ahead of the boat, screaming.

“Help, help! We’ve been attacked by Drowned Folk!”

She didn’t seem to notice the [Pirate] flags. The Bloodtear Pirates exchanged glances. The lead [Captain] saw the colorful Garuda flying at them. Definitely a landlubber.

“Heave to!”

He bellowed. The [Pirates] aimed at the Garuda. She landed on the deck, crying, in front of the [Captain.]

“But they’re trying to kill us! They stole the treasure! But they want to kill us all!”

“They did?”

The [Pirate Captain] stared at Peki. He eyed the water dribbling down her cheeks. She didn’t seem to be actually…crying. She nodded. The Bloodtear Captain glanced at his crew. He shrugged.

“Capture her. Get all three ships. We’ll have to sink them all, anyways.”

The Garuda stared at the [Captain] as he grinned at her behind the helm.

“You’re going to attack us?”

“Yep.”

He laughed. Peki thought about this and shrugged.

“Okay. Watch the boom.”

“Huh?”

She kicked the wheel. The [Captain] swore, grabbing, but a foot kicked him off his feet. He went tumbling—

And his ship turned as the boom swung around. It crashed into the second ship, and both slowed. Peki flew off as the Bloodtear Pirates loosed spells and arrows after her back. The [Martial Artist] nimbly dodged. They ruled the seas, but she had trained to fight in the air. Everything but booms.

The third ship came on, though. It was on a collision course with The Emerald Signet! Desperately, the Storm Ship turned, but the pirate ship turned to catch it. They too had a magical wind in their sails. A magical wind—

“[Galewinds].”

Peki flapped past them and cast the scroll. The [Pirate Captain] of the third ship looked up as a second wind blew crossways, blasting the sail around. He swore as the ship turned against his will. He began to fight the two winds as Peki flapped off.

“Ah, the old, ‘distract them with Peki’, and then ‘catch them off-guard with Peki again gambit’. Classic.”

Merrik chortled as he watched The Emerald Signet racing past the ships. All three turned to join the chase. Now—five ship’s worth of spells were flying at The Emerald Signet’s rear.

A Gnoll braced behind cover as she stared at Merrik. Peki landed on the deck, panting, but only slightly singed.

“How often do you use that tactic?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Our turns.”

Wil and Venaz appeared at one side of the ship. They winced as a hail of [Fireballs] exploded around the sails.

“Sails are down! Replace them now!”

“We need five minutes!”

Inky howled as Captain Lasc felt his ship slow. Desperately, the [Storm Captain] looked over his shoulder. The other ships were coming alongside.

“Board them and take the treasure! Repel the Bloodtear Pirates!”

Therrium was howling as his ship exchanged fire with the others. Ahead, The Emerald Signet, floundering, was throwing up a white flag.

“Kill them.”

The [Pirate Captain] pointed. But he saw Wil, Venaz, and Yerra dragging something to the port.

“Stop! Stop! We surrender! We’ll give you the casket! But kill us and it goes over!”

Wil shouted. All five ships stopped. They drew alongside.

“It’s a trick!”

The first mate opined. Therrium peered through a spyglass.

“No. It’s the real casket! They can’t create a fake although—get me a [Detect Magic] spell!”

It was the casket. Genuine. One of the Bloodtear Pirate ships streamed forwards and the other Drowned Ship, The Sinking Light, rammed them. They began to fight.

“Give us the treasure.”

Another of the Bloodtear Pirates was blocking The Passing Shadow. Fearless, their crews were boarding, hacking at Therrium’s crew. The Drowned Man slashed through the enemy as he roared, trying to get his ship closer.

The [Pirate Captain] had a crossbow aimed at Wil’s head and the [Pirates] were poised to catch. Wil nodded.

“Take it.”

“Open the casket.”

The [Pirate Captain] was in no mood to play games or be tricked again. Wil slowly did so. The diamond swords shone from within the casket. The [Pirate Captain] stared.

“Get me a null magic net. And hand it over.”

Slowly, the [Strategists] balanced it on the railing. The Bloodtear Pirates yanked it away. They stared at the treasure, forgetting The Emerald Signet for a second. One of the [Pirates] reached for a shimmering blade.

“Stop, idiot! Wait for the net—”

The [Pirate Captain] saw a hand grab the unlucky [Pirate]. Fetohep rose, sighing.

“Sand.”

He didn’t cast a spell. Sand just flooded the [Pirate]’s nose, mouth, eyes, ears—she fell back, choking. The Bloodtear Pirates drew back.

“Neutralize the magic.”

The [Pirate Captain] ordered. Fetohep looked at him. He glanced to the side.

“This is tedious. But amusing in its own way.”

The undead [King] pronounced. He said that, but he was grinning. Always grinning. The [Pirates] turned as The Emerald Signet shot forwards again; the sails were full and restored. The [Pirate Captain] frowned.

“Do we pursue, Captain?”

“…No. Let them go. We’ll deal with the spectre and the two Drowned Ships.”

The [Pirate Captain] came to a quick decision. He looked around. A pair of [Pirates] had a net that cancelled magic and were sneaking up on Fetohep’s left. The [King] pointed a finger.

Magical sand blasted the ambushers. Then, the undead [King] lifted his other hand. A whirlwind blasted the [Pirates] back. It whirled under the casket, pushed it up. And—to the disbelief of the [Pirate Captain], the casket flew through the air.

It landed on The Emerald Signet as the ship stormed ahead. Wil saw Fetohep rise from the casket as the Bloodtear [Pirate Captain] screamed curses and resumed the chase.

“I warned you that once you lost the casket, I would grant you no more chances.”

“Yes, your Majesty. What about a ruse?”