The captain sat up straighter when Elara entered, dropping his boots off of the table and letting the front legs of his chair lean forward to rest against the floor once more. He watched her idly as she came to be seated too, and exhaled a last plume of blue-gray smoke before letting the noxious cigar idle in a nearby tray. The Aleph Null, safely away from the heavy freighter and on course for Havenstad once more, was being piloted by one of the sailing master's underlings, freeing Elara to join these meetings as needed. With the wardroom at the far aft of the ship just beneath the main deck, and the navigation room just above that, the girl could race to the helm in under a minute should anything arise. Not that he mistrusted her choice of second - though he couldn't remember the lad's name to save his life - but it was a comforting thought nonetheless.

"Reasonably well," Grady replied to her first question. "Everyone did their part as well as could be expected it seems."

"Fucking pyurgist," he grumbled in response to her next question. "Didn't know they had one aboard. Quick-thinking there with the sails, again. You and Kisaki put a stop to what would otherwise have been a real shitshow. 'Course, you didn't go batty afterward unlike the wright. Fucking pyurgists," he repeated as he picked up his cigar off the tray and stubbed it out subconsciously. Boarding any ship was of course dangerous - men fell from boarding ladders, or got shot or stabbed. Hell, he'd seen one unlucky man take all three. But if he'd known there was going to be a fireater aboard he would have gone about it all differently. Ah, fucking hindsight.

"Drink?" he asked as he stood with a wince, and made his way to the sideboard, all the bottles and glasses latched in padded straps in the oaken cupboard. After any mission like this, where you killed, fought for your own life and came through it unscathed, while some of your comrades weren't as lucky... well in the Sorrowars he'd learned to cope with that by getting back to town and drinking and ploughing the night away. The latter would have to wait for Havenstad, but the former he could get a jump on now. Grabbing two tumblers in one hand and a bottle of burnwine in the other - hoping Goldenwood would approve of his choice - Grady headed back to the table and poured two stiff drinks. The burnt amber liquid, made from distilled wine aged in heavy char, reflected back the wardroom's dull light and seemed even to enhance it. Grady clinked his glass against the other in a toast, swirled his around and swallowed it in one gulp before sitting back down with a long contented sigh. He poured another healthy belt, and held it swirling while loosening the v-neck lacing of his shirt with his other hand.

"You ever been on a ship on fire?" he asked somberly, staring contemplatively at the contents of his swirling tumbler before looking over at Elara.

Shinrei groggily woke up, blinking slowly, before taking in the surroundings. Familiar wooden ceilings, and a familiar feeling of a cot underneath her. Ah...that's right. Remembering her rampage, before being forced to succumb to unconsciousness by her captain, else she might've burned that entire freighter to the ground, figuratively and literally.

However, along with backtracking through her memories, she remembered her actions during that rampage, along with her horrible choice of words during that moment. "Uwaaaaaaah....." Bemoaning softly to herself, she stood up. Despite her feelings, there was no doubt that the captain would want to have the meeting at the warroom.

Taking a short detour to leave her sword behind in her room, Rei made her way to the warroom. Knocking softly, she entered, before quietly taking a seat at the corner of the table. Her dejected feelings were most likely noticed by the others.

Taking notice of the alcohol at the table, her expression visibly read 'Do want' almost desperately.

...........

--------------------

...It was immediately apparent; while the gains ultimately exceeded the costs in the crew and damage to the ship, the risk was far too great to match its value. There was no mistaking it. Any gains they had made were from sheer luck, and it would have been foolish to assume otherwise. This frustrated Vee, both for his lack of preparation and for his uncharacteristic presumptions of the enemy cargo. Rarely did he make a bad gamble, and in this case, it costed more than gold, but lives.

In his infirmary, Vee hovered a hand over a shipmate's upper torso, his hand glowing softly as he slowly scanned over a massive gash. The wound had since stopped bleeding, but the sailor convulsed in pain as the wound was cauterized with Vee's sorcery. While solurgy made the process of healing faster and cleaner than its traditional counterparts, it wasn't going to make the process for the recipient any smoother, so to speak.

A little over a dozen other injured were scattered about Vee's infirmary, those already healed but needing time to rest; again, an incredibly lucky turn of events, even with the generous portion of casualties. As he finished with his last patient, Vee went about handing each a very small vial; filled with a highly potent, but small amount of liquified cuprum. "Make certain to return the vials, or expect to pay a share for their replacement," he said plainly as he instructed them to move to their quarters. If taken all at once, the injured would sleep soundly as their bodies finished their repairs.

With the last of the men escorted out of his quarters, Vee made his way to his desk, to pick up a few items before making his way to the captain's meeting hall. First, his journal. Then... a wooden pipe, already pre-packed with cuprum in its natural, "floral" form, already ground for easier inhalation. This was how the substance was usually ingested, providing its user a much more mild albeit still relaxing quasi-dream state. Vee has since become quite accustomed to the substance, his tolerance affording him the ability to maintain relatively high function... but it was still a lovely form of escapism from his own guilty conscience.

Vylmor arrived to the wardroom casually late, seeing Elara and the captain already mid-discussion. Not wishing to make a fuss, he quietly leaned himself adjacent to the entrance, striking a match and lighting the pipe that was dangling from his lip. He made a few puffs to get the greens properly ignited. The substance had a noticeable but pleasant scent, not overbearing, but an almost minty, fresh flavor that cleared the nasal passages. The scent proceeded to permeate throughout the room.

The captain asked anyone if they would like a drink, but Vee politely declined with a raised hand, already mid-high from his own vice. He simply laid back, nonchalant, ready to answer if any particular questions arose, but at the moment more than happy to simply observe and listen.

His faith in the damned horse seemed to have payed off, but at a bit of a cost. Though the team's ferrum, crossbow bolts, and knives had held the two guards at bay long enough for the deor to enact his magic, the two masterfully trained Arbiters were still able to fight through the pain and wound Lasrach – a sword in the side – and Cameron – a deep cut across the forearm when he tried to engage one of the judges close range.

“Christian, get your brother back to our ship. They shoulda cleared the boardin' ramp up by now. Jory and Latvanen, you two take the cargo directly to the wardroom for the meeting.” Through trusting the unknown thief with the entire purpose of the mission might seem foolhardy, Balder was actually setting up one final test. Jory could be pressured into wrongdoing fairly easily, but if he and Marko Latvanen did decide to do anything untoward, the old master gunner would get it out of Jory easily enough that night. The thief had gone a long way towards proving himself in this mission, and Balder was impressed so far.

“And you, ya damned eee-quine fool. I'm gonna need to be helpin' ya back to the ship. Get yer giant arse onto my back. Once we're back up there, Errol will drum up a few boys to bring ya to the doctor, get that good slice taken care of. That madman'll have somethin' special for ya.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Back in the warroom, Balder kicked back with his feet up on a table, dirtying up the map carefully placed there. In his left hand was a pitcher of beer – a midnight colored stout made from barley malt and roasted barley – and in his right, an empty glass, the bottom still dark with the sticky remnants of his last poured glass. The old man had given up on that right hand; however, and was drinking directly from the pitcher. That day was a rough one, and though he didn't lose anyone in his own team, the sight of Lasrach and Cameron's blood pooling up on those warped wooden planks had jarred him. He had seen a lot of death and experienced a lot of loss, but this one would be a drop too far.

Either way it didn't happen. Another day, another run in with death, another plunder. There would be another one tomorrow and every day after that until the old man came up short.

Elara laughed lightly. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a pyurgist who wasn’t at least a bit crazy. There was this one I used to work with who would make Kisaki’s… episodes seem almost serene.” She shook her head ruefully at the memories. “Though I couldn’t really blame him,” she added. “You can only work at the spellcrafter’s guild for so long before you’re just itching to blow something up.”

Elara accepted the drink with a smile. Alcohol was definitely welcome after such a long day. The smile faded however as she heard Grady’s question. She shifted in her seat, taking a large gulp from the drink in her hand. She was quiet for a moment.

“Once,” she admitted. Elara sighed, taking another drink before she explained. “There were these two years, right before I joined your crew,” she said, nodding to him. “It was just a little while after I’d left the guild. No one would hire me, didn’t want some young girl flying their ships.” She frowned in distaste. “I started to get pretty desperate for work, and of course I didn’t want to return home at the time... So, when I finally found a job, I accepted right away. The ship was a piece of crap, but I didn’t particularly care. It was supposed to be a month long job. I’d been hired by the first mate, so I didn’t even meet the captain until I was already on board.” She scoffed. “It was the first and last time I ever made that mistake.”

Elara paused briefly, a flicker of anger in her eyes. “...The bastard was completely insane, in the worst way. Half the crew was scared and starving. I was on there three weeks before the son of a bitch set his own damn ship on fire in the middle of the night. It didn’t really end well.”

She stared off at nothing for a moment, lost in the memory, eyes hard. Crew members had been burned alive on that ship while others suffocated in the lower levels. A few had jumped overboard. The ship had practically fallen out of the sky once the engine blew. She’d managed to land the thing in the water off some coast to the east. Most of the crew members hadn’t made it. There’d been one young girl in particular who’d reminded Elara of one of her younger sisters... The captain had unfortunately made it onto the shore, but that was as far as he’d gotten. It had been the only time Elara had lost control of her aeurgy. It was not however, a moment she regretted. Elara had a rather protective nature, and to see such ruin come to a crew and ship that she had been sailing... It had been rather trying.

It was a relief when more of the crew members started to appear in the wardroom. Elara cleared her throat and straightened in her chair. “Good,” she said. “We should start this meeting soon. Carter’s good with sailing, but the boy still gets a bit nervous. I’d like to make sure he’s not flying us in the wrong direction,” she joked, referring to the crew member she had sailing the ship in her place.

After Grady and Alex had subdued their own pyurgist, Alex rolled her limp body off of himself, and sighed. Grady issued orders, and he nodded, standing up and brushing himself off. "Right-o." He said to himself. "Wounded get off this ship, if you can help, take the dead over to ours." He pointed at two sailors. "Get her over on our deck, and watch her. And get a few more strongarms over here." The men nodded and hustled at his orders. He ran a hand through his hair, and looked around at the bloodshed.

Alex enjoyed that shade of red, the deep vibrant kind that came from arterial blood. Alex drew his pistols and reloaded them, and was holstering them when Errol's boys showed up. "Right lads, uh. You three, are to go below decks and get a hold of our guys." Alex said. He surveyed the scene again, their wounded and dead back on his ship, and the marines who had defended their vessel sitting on the deck. Once the infiltration crew had come up, waited until they were on the Aleph null, then the boarding party, and finally he stepped off last. As they removed the boarding planks from the other ship he sent runners to gather others that didn't know to meet in the wardroom. Once they were off, he stooped down and scooped up Rei and carried her off to her room to lay her in her own bed.

After dropping Rei off, Alex went to the boarding party next and handed them a bottle of rum. "Good work today, Lads." He said. "Extra rum ration on the house for your work." He said smiling at them before stepping back out. He made certain to stop at end wounded man's cot and make sure they were fine, or asleep. Those that were awake he reassured they had done a fine job. Finally finished with his detours, Alex made his way to the Warroom and stepped in, the last one there. He nodded to everyone that was there. "Sorry about the delay, was checking on the lads. Didn't have time to tidy up" Alexander said with a toothy grin. His hair was still disheveled, and flecks of dried blood splatter were on his face. On Alex's arms and hands that volume of dried blood was a bit higher, as was expected of someone who had been in the thick of the fighting for several minutes.

Alex made his way to his chair, and reached down, undoing the belt he wore around his waist, with the holstered sword and pistol, and draped it over his chair back, taking a seat. "What did I miss?"