Uban stood on point, figuring it was best to leave the hostage situation to Berlin. He was good at that sort of thing--even aside from his magic, he had two years experience taming a little feral shifter, so he could handle some angry villagers. Rohaan was a mess. He'd never seen him like that and despite the boy's age, it rocked his view of him a little to see him melt down like that. That kid had been through a lot and not once, not ONCE had he seen him lose it like he was now. Uban had heard bits and pieces of Rohaan's sad childhood story, but even Berlin admitted to him once that he didn't know the full story. They all knew his home had been raided, he was taken on a ship and somehow escaped, and they all remembered the state they found him in. Thin, battered, filthy, cold, and fierce. Uban swung his dagger and gently paced, giving the boy and Hana space but also standing guard lest something else happen. He doubted it would, but this whole place set him on edge. It set everyone on edge.

Rohaan allowed himself to be moved, to be held. He gave no resistance whatsoever and instead kept one hand curled around a fold of her shirt and refused to let go. Oddly enough though, he found her presence somewhat comforting and eventually his hysterical sobs became little staggered gasps of breath. She was not Berlin, and lacked both the earned trust and the innate magic he had, but he had not been held like that since he was home. He had so many emotions, none of which he could really put his finger on in his current state. He felt painfully guilty for hurting Berlin, a little worried that he'd even reacted that way in the first place, angry, scared--no, terrified. He was remembering things with clarity that he had not thought back on in any great detail since it'd happened, nor had he ever had the time to properly process what had happened to him. Once he'd escaped, life was all about survival and there was no room for anything else. Until now. It all came to the surface and spilled out like a boiled-over pot.

"They killed everybody," he told her between hitching breaths, though whether or not he was talking about the fishing town or his home was unclear. Probably both. "They got ships and they put kids on 'em...and..." He spoke very quickly in Vokurian, not caring whether or not she could understand him. Then, back to Carisian, "They'd take one per night. You'd never see 'em again. Why would they do that? Why would they do that?" Another set of stuttering breaths, then, "And I hurt Berlin. I didn't mean to I j-j-just..." He put his face into her shoulder. "Don't let 'em take me."

--

If looks could kill, Berlin's icy stare could have slain even Wheel. The big man backhanded Wheel in the chest hard. "Shut your mouth, you aren't helping! I ain't got the energy for your shit today!" He growled between clenched teeth. And then, as he turned his attention back to the villagers, he was all cool, calm smiles again. They came down and plainly stated they wanted them to leave--fair enough. But they didn't need to be so prickly about it--they were obviously no threa--well...he looked at Wheel and reassessed his thoughts. Perhaps it was warranted.

"Easy mates, we'll leave you to your mourning. We didn't come here for trouble. It would please you to know, I think, that we're going to find that ship. I assume they...took people. I can see to it that they find themselves a way home, if its within my power. But one of mine has had a personal brush with these...Barizians. We're going after that ship, and this time it's personal. Rest assured that your dead will be avenged." His tone was dark, angry, and the storm that lurked just underneath the surface showed itself a little, but it was a distant anger. Removed. His rage was not pointed towards them, but the slavers. "Can you tell me, was it just the one? A galley? Or were there others?"

Hana rocked the boy back and forth; trying to remember how she'd held her half sister. Of course, the moment Clothilde began to squirm, Hanabaptiste passed the infant to the ready nursemaid, who'd whisk the child away in coos and affection. She had not spent much time with children. So all she had to compare it to was her own childhood, of being taught to keep any bad thought from crossing your face, of always being pleasant. Of how resilience and duty were the highest virtues, and a woman's weapons were her grace and beauty. It was not a place to hold shifter boys who were sobbing in anguish. But she remembered what it had been like, having to cry without being held, being loved. She rubbed the boy's back with her hand, tucking her chin over his head. She continued to hum, softer now, it was the chorus to one of Uban's songs. Catching the nervous man's eye, she looked pointedly down at crying Rio. Catching her breath, she continued to hum.

----
Wheel rocked back on his heels in response to the big mans blow. It probably irked the hell out of him that he couldn't send Wheel flying. When the gate swung open and the towns leader stepped out, he wondered how the scrawny man had survived the raiders. He wouldn't have made a very good oarsmen, so maybe they spared him. Ha, the man looked like he'd have everything taken away from him. He'd die in five or ten years, bitter and begging for someone who'd died just yesterday. The heart remembers the best things only to torture us with them. Good memories made the best lash for lonely nights.

"A galley? Or were there others?"

Wheel started openly picking his teeth when the man began to talk again, the hatred catching in his voice and making it swell with emotion.

"Just one galley. They'd taken a few children in secret at first, once a week at first. It grew quiet, like they'd taken what they wanted and left us. But they came back all at once, armed to the teeth and without mercy." The man grasped the crossbow tightly, hands shaking. "We... I... ANCESTORS DAMN IT THERE WAS NOTHING WE COULD DO." He cried, bending inwards like he'd been punched in the gut. He straightened slowly, his face composed. His eyes seemed to be wetter, and the lines creasing his face had grown.

"We had been fortunate in the past. We were just a fishing hamlet, and pirates never bothered to steal the fish we sold to outside merchants. But now these slavers have started to arrive, and we've never seen them before. They've been terrorizing the rest of the New Mulst islands for months now, but we never thought they'd attack us. We were foolish." The man looked Berlin directly in the eye. Shifting his gaze to Wheel, he scowled and lifted his crossbow, "I'd like you to leave."

Uban caught the look and approached softly, putting his weapons away. He softly put his hand on Hana's shoulder and motioned with his head towards the ship as he softly began to sing like it was any other night on the Borealis.

"Fare thee well, to you my own true love
When I return, united we will be
It's not the leaving of this here shore that grieves me
but my darling when I think of thee..."

Uban's voice was casual, soft, and easy like the gentle breeze of a quiet summer day. He was not Berlin and did not have his charm, but he had a voice like a songbird. He led the two back to the ship where Pieter was still waiting at the gun. There was a question in the old man's eyes as the saw only the three--not the five--and one still hitching Rohaan in, of all people, Hana's arms.
"Why don't you take him below? Maybe...show him some mag--actually no, don't do that. He bites. Ah...you got books, eh? Read to him, maybe? He likes stories."

Uban went to Pieter, letting a breath of air go that he didn't know he'd been holding. "Barizians. The sacked the whole place, I mean, just wrecked. Wheel managed to get himself taken hostage by some really upset locals and Berlin's putting out that fire. Rohaan..." He glanced to where the two had gone. "You remember when we found him. What he looked like. How he'd lost his family and home to some kind of raid? Barizians, apparently. He saw the flag and lost it. Really lost it. Enough that he's letting Hanabaptiste touch him. And ooh, you shouldda seen the look in the cap'n's eyes." Uban whistled. "Seems we got a ship to hunt down."

--

Berlin moved forward softly, feet crunching against the sooty stone. He put a hand out and placed it on the withering man's shoulder gently. He imbued the touch with nothing but his deepest sympathy. "Aye. We will go. Mourn your dead. Rebuild your homes. And know they will pay for this. For this and more." Berlin moved slowly, reaching into his pocket for a little leather purse of coins. They would all easily fit in the man's palms, but they were solid gold. "Take this. It's...not much, considering. But it will help you rebuild. Take it and my sympathy. And...oh..." he pointed with his thumb back towards Wheel. "Don't listen to him, eh?" One more pat on the shoulder, and he turned, heading back towards the ship. "Wheel," he barked in a firm tone, motioning for him to follow. 'Back to the ship."

Hanabaptiste felt like she was trapped in a strange time curse- the walk to the ship, her and Uban humming and singing in harmony seemed to last an eternity. The sand crunching beneath their feet providing tempo, the hiss of the waves working itself into the music. Hana had listened to Uban sing and play the lute plenty of times since joining the Borealis, but it would have been a tad too familiar of her to join and sing with him. Neither of them were married, and while she liked the man, she didn't think of him as a brother. But she'd needed to calm Rio down, and in her panic driven rationality, she'd asked for Uban's help.

And now they were singing together.

It was strange, everything seemed to be disconnected from one another, the hot sun on her scalp, the light breeze that pushed Rio's hair into her eyes. They were happening to different people, who all shared the same body. And so she thought deeply- or what passed for deeply in this state- about the implications of her singing with an unmarried yokel turned pirate. She also was absorbed in trying to remember which note came next, unable to contemplate anything else. Another, distant thought idly played with the thought of her leaving the pirates and making the most of it on this island. She dismissed this, it wasn't an option. She didn't have an answer she could put into words for why she had to stay with the Borealis, but it was compelling and the idea of staying on shore didn't carry much weight. She still walked, still sang. The world was walking and singing and holding a motionless boy who was growing heavier and heavier in her arms. He had gotten so heavy she didn't know if she could put him down. So she didn't. She walked and sang.

All of a sudden she was below decks, setting Rio down on her bed in her chambers. She couldn't say when she had arrived in her room, or just how she got there. The change had been so abrupt compared to the lifetime on the beach that she hadn't realized she could stop. She stood over the boy and hummed. What was she here for? Oh, right. Reading books to Rio. Breathing in, Hana shook her head like she had just woken up. The curse had ended. But she still had a job to do.

"Okay, if you'd like I'll read you the Midengarium. It's the old story I had told you about. In Elbar you'd be considered a little young to read the full text.. But, things will be fine. Okay. Um. I'll just." Hana lurched to the small shelf built into the wall that served as her bookcase. Scanning the titles dumbly, it took her three times to read through every title before realizing the book was right in front of her. Taking it, Hana went back and sat on the chest at the foot of her bed.

"Well, uh. Okay. There's an introduction, but it's really just about how the translator ignored the preexisting notions for how Aa script related to Old Tilnish and could actually be seen in the modern day by high country shepherds carving prayers into their walking sticks. Um. That's important to know, but ummm. Let's just start on chapter one.

Hana carefully turned the pages, coughed.

"Okay."

"When Bilen, son of Bifor, declared to the village that his ten by tenth birthday would be celebrated with great celebrations, there was much excitement and speculation to what would occur. Bithdo, nephew of Bilen, went to his uncle...." Hana read the old story. The words didn't stick in her mind, and on occasion she stumbled over her words, but it was fine. She continued to read, letting her lips go numb and her throat scratchy. It was a good story, and she wondered if Rio understood what she was saying. Even if he didn't, she hoped the act of being read to would soothe him and still his heart.

----

By the time Berlin gravely put his hand on the ugly village leaders shoulder, Wheel had already pulled out his baccy pouch and was rolling himself a cigarette. He smiled at the foresight he'd had to buy a package of matches when he had been in port. They were interesting little things, bits of wood that had been enchanted so all one had to do to make them flare up was scratch them. He wasn't sure how they worked, but he liked them.

Lighting the match, he held the flame to his cigarette, making sure it lit before tossing the match on the ground. They probably could have been made to last more than once, but merchants were bastards.

He watched as Berlin gave away enough gold to buy all the girls in a cathouse for a week. To some fucking idiot who couldn't stop a single galley of Barizians. They were obviously going to get rolled again, and he figured that money wouldn't stay in the fishermen's hands for long. Not his problem, of course.

"Wheel. Back to the ship."

He fell in line next to the captain, a spear ready to be launched. There was no blood to be spilt here today. The curse began to scream, howling and biting Wheel's veins and guts, angry and hungry. He sucked on the cigarette and tried to ignore the need as they walked through the ruined town. That money Berlin gave them would help, but this town wasn't coming back to how it was before for a long time. And even when the houses were rebuilt and the population returned, he doubted they would plant as many flowers as they had before. He was saddened that the thought of it didn't sadden him. He needed to draw blood. "Any plans on finding these slavers?" He asked, as they reached the beach.

Down below, Rohaan only let go of Hana's shirt once he'd been set down on the bed and saw that she was going to sit beside him. He couldn't tell if he wanted to be alone or not. On The beach? No. But here, in his home, he felt a little bit like running and hiding. That had always been his fallback. When the Borealis first acquired him, it was not uncommon for someone to go down into the dark hold in search of something, only to hear a low, ominous growl from somewhere in the gloom and turn straight around without coming what they came for. But at the same time, he was recalling now the feelings of being truly alone, and they horrified him.

The Barizian ship had been a nightmare where he constantly feared for his life as he watched other children die. Babies. Older kids. Ones his age that he used to go dive underwater with, crack open coconuts with, learn to hunt with. And like his parents, he watched them die. Some by cruelty and neglect, others...others would be plucked from the pile (he distinctly remembered an actual pile of bodies, some living, some dead) and dragged above deck. They never came back and sometimes he would see silvery blood on the hands of his captors. The troublesome ones, he learned very quickly, got shackled with enchanted steel, and though he'd never felt its sting, he knew what it was and what it did. For once in his life, Rohaan had been docile, compliant, and quiet. He had to be, he knew, if escaping was going to work. He did not know how long it took for him to find an opening. But when he did, he was battered, his wrist was broken, he had infected cuts or scrapes, and he was horribly malnourished. Moving was difficult, crawling across the others towards the one opening. Shifting was only possible by force of will.

When he'd hit the water he had no idea where he was. He could see the suggestion of land somewhere in the distance, but he couldn't make out whether or not it was home. He doubted it. Though he didn't know how far they came, he knew the air and the water was colder there, and it was not the crystal blue he had always known. When he did make it to land, he realized he had never been in the presence of humans before, though he was well aware that they did not like his kind. Though he knew, he did not understand, and that understanding came to him the hard way. He remembered curling up in an empty barrel in a dirty alley, shivering in the newfound chill that he had never truly experienced, weak, pained, and hungry. And so, so alone.

On the bed, Rohaan clambered to the far side, the one corner against the wall, and drew his little body in like he was trying to make room. He was not shying away from her specifically, but he liked the security that corners offered. Rohaan snatched up the blanket, too, practically burrowing underneath it as he clutched the fabric in tight hands. His blue eyes, now glossy with tears, looked up at her as she spoke. He didn't understand what she was talking about--places and languages he did not know existed. But the idea of a story seemed at least sort of appealing. Anything that would let him forget again, even if just for a moment.

She read on, and page by page, his shuddering breaths began to soften into something more controlled as he sniffled. The language was more advanced than he usually used himself, and he was forced to spend time thinking about the various words and what their translations might be in his own language. Hanabaptiste came to one word after a while that he did not know and couldn't guess from context, so his small, quiet voice asked, "what's that word mean?" After the first time, he began to ask more questions, mostly about language but occasionally about the story itself, and they became slowly less quiet and shy. Even his body posture began to relax, and instead of having a death-grip on the blanket wrapped around his tight ball, he had his legs semi-outstretched and his toes peeking out from under it, fingers fiddling with a loose thread.

---

Berlin sighed. He wanted to say that he had very little idea of how to go about it, but he was the Captain, and if he could even pretend to be collected, he would. The man thought--or tried to. His mind was pulled in multiple different directions all at once. "Well..." he said at last, "We know which direction they're headed. And assuming they don't drastically change course, we'll take them soon enough. The Borealis is fast, but with Hanabaptiste giving us strong, favorable winds, I fail to see how we can be outrun. I'd like you to keep an open eye for them." And by that, he meant that if the curse pulled at him in such a way as to let him know bloodshed was near at hand, Berlin wanted to know. He thought also that he could send Rohaan on patrols every so often to cover more ground from above, but after what he saw on the beach, he wasn't so sure that was a good idea.

The two returned, and before long the crew had the ship fully afloat again and shooting off in the direction they'd last seen the galley go. With the ship underway and the crew busy, Berlin went down below to see how his young charge was holding up. He was preparing himself for another hurricane when he saw Rohaan and Hana seated on her bed, the woman with a large book in her hands as Rohaan watched her lips move intently. Both were in one piece. Berlin let out a huge sigh.

"Berlin!" The boy exclaimed, leaping out of the bed to anchor himself to Berlin's side once more. The big man went to one knee, drawing him in. Rohaan never wanted anything more in his whole life, it seemed.
"Hey. How are you?" The question was gentle but deeply sincere.
Rohaan just nodded. "Hana is reading a book out loud." A pause, and then, "Are you mad at me?"
Berlin blinked, taken aback. "Mad at you? No! Why would I--" He followed Rohaan's gaze to the red-stained rips in his white shirt and the lacerated skin beneath. "No," he said, understanding. "We talked about this. You didn't mean it, and frankly I've had a lot worse. This doesn't really even need bandaging--a little cleaning, maybe a balm, I'll be good as new." Growing more serious, Berlin brushed the boy's wild hair back with a stroke of his hand. "I would like to talk with you later. Not now--I think you could squeeze in another few pages with Hana if you want to. But if you're willing, I want to talk to you about what happened. I want to understand, Rheoaan," he said softly.

Rohaan looked at the floor, at his dirty toes. He didn't want to talk about it, not really. But he could see Berlin wanted to know. Wanted to understand. That was something Rohaan appreciated about the man--even though they were so different, and Rohaan's way of life was so foreign to him, the man only ever wanted to understand. Hesitantly, the boy nodded.

"Good lad." He stood, giving Hanabaptiste a silent glance that said everything. Thank you. "Hanabaptiste, when you two are finished, I would like it if you could draw up another wind for us. We'll see to it they can't outrun us." With that, he returned to the deck, letting out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

He needed a drink.

The Cap'n looked tired, and Wheel regretted how flippant he'd been earlier. The big man didn't know Bariz, didn't know how they operated. Wheel knew. He was so fucking frustrated though. He and the curse had been so excited, so ready. He had blue balls from the massacre. The Cap'n and the rest wouldn't understand. Couldn't know the need. He'd focus and help find the slavers. He'd get what he needed then.

"If they're Barizians, they'll be traveling in a group with other galleys. When they make raids like this, they clear almost everything out to make space for the slaves. There's not going to be a lot of supplies on board, so it's likely that there's a place for the ship to drop the slaves and resupply." Wheel walked next to the Captain, smoke drifting behind them as they left the ruined town. "When we passed them the night before, they was prolly getting back." The two men walked in silence after that, and though nothing was said, they both walked faster than they had before.

---

As Hana read, awareness would come upon her, and she'd notice the grubby boy in the corner watching her, the scratched wooden floors, and the smell of rotting seaweed and sea water that filled the room. The book in her hand would remind her of it's weight, and her eyes would water as she strained to make out the words. She didn't stop from reading, however, carefully pronouncing the words on the page. She would reflect momentarily on the meanings of the book, appreciating the deftly written prose. But such insights faded and the comforting tumble of syllables continued. After a time, Rio began asking her questions, and as she answered each, the numbness faded, leaving an emptiness inside her. Still, she didn't realize the Captain had returned until the door opened and Rio fled into his arms. She watched silently as Berlin comforted the blonde boy. Hana could sense the melancholy behind his words. She'd do as he asked, and give him time.

"Come, Rio, Bithdo is now outside the mendicants cottage, you'll like this next part."

---

Pieter had just finished squeezing a wedge of lime into the rum as Berlin walked heavily to him. They were at the prow, and both Wheel and Uban knew to busy themselves elsewhere on the ship, giving the two privacy. The old sailor handed the captain his mug, and took a swig from his own. There was a slight breeze that pulled at Pieter's linen shirt, and he was grateful for the pleasant warmth the rum left.

Fixing Berlin with a steady look, he asked, "The boy?"

Rohaan watched the big man go. It was hard to describe what Berlin mean to the boy; Rohaan had never actually said it out loud in so plain of words, but he loved him. Berlin knew it. Their bond was strong but unspoken. Berlin himself had known it beyond a doubt when Rohaan granted him the use of his third and longest name. By that time he knew what that meant. The boy had come in on a winter’s night a year after Berlin had scooped him up from the street. Ice formed on the lines and gunnel at night and Rohaan had come into his cabin, shivering. Berlin invited him to sit next to him on the bed and amused him with stories of his swashbuckling youth, including some mischief he and Pieter had gotten into in their younger years. He could feel the boy nodding off, slumping a little at his side with each word.
”Rohaan, you should get to sleep,” he’d said.
“No.” When Berlin was about to chide him for arguing, Rohaan continued. “It’s Rheoaan. My name is Rheoaan.”

Rohaan waited until Berlin’s boots disappeared from the steps and scrambled back to Hana’s side, this time not so tightly into the corner. “Well go on! Tell me what happens! Does he find a dragon?” It wasn’t the first time he’d asked this. Rohaan was convinced that there was a dragon somewhere in this story. There just had to be, he thought.

—-

Berlin sat down with a heavy thud that made the crate he sat on creak in protest. He had his back against the sweeping wall of the prow as he took the mug from his old friend and took a long, heavy pull from the chipped vessel. That was almost answer enough. Still, it took time for the captain to answer. He took off his loose white shirt, set it on the deck beside him, and took out a clean wet rag. As he began wiping the crusted blood off his chest, he looked only briefly at Pieter to mutter, “how do you think?” The skin clean, he dipped his finger in a little jar of cloudy honey, which was supposed to be good for keeping wounds clean and fighting infection in minor wounds; he rubbed the sticky substance into the scratches, but he did not bother to put his shirt back on. The sun felt too nice, and the breeze too pleasant. Another long pull from the mug.

“Ain’t never seen him like that. Ain’t never seen him cry...” He kept drinking. Clearly this had shaken his worldview in a way; he wasn’t sure how to feel about it now. “And I should have known it, too. Since we spotted them yesterday, he was in...a mood. Can’t explain it. But I knew something was bothering him, even if he didn’t himself. I think, deep down, he knew before we ever made for the shore.” Another drink, but it came up short in his mouth. Empty. Berlin put it down on the barrel between them and held it out, eyes quietly demanding it be full again. “He never did tell me any details of how he came to be at Tavalor, that little port city we found him. But it was Barizians who took him, got him in as bad a shape as he was. He saw the flag and unraveled. But he’s alright now. Hasn’t bitten anyone, it seems, and nothing’s been set on fire, so I’ll call it a victory. He’s down with Hana. She’s reading to him and, bless me, he’s listening. She’s good. I’ll give her that. He didn’t warm up to you that fast,” Berlin laughed, remembering the ongoing struggles that at times felt so far away. “He’s come a long way now, though.”

Berlin fished the lime out of his mug, sucked it for a moment, then plopped it back into the cup with a small sound of relish. “But that’s done. And we’ve got a ship to hunt down,” he said darkly, also with relish. “But for now, I see no reason you and I can’t share a drink...er...a few anyway.” His mug was already empty again. “And ‘bout damn time too.”

Hanabaptiste shifted the book, turning it so Rio could look at the pages. Keeping her voice coy, she answered, "There might be a dragon. See if you can sound out this word, though." Her voice was even and playful. She didn't notice her hands had started to shake holding the book.

---

Pieter studied Berlin through lidded eyes as he refilled the mug. His shoulders were pulled in, his chin tucked and eyes lowered. He looked like a man who had gotten a thrashing and was bracing again. Pieter was fond of the boy, aye, but Berlin lived for him. Obviously he had been shaken to see Ro breakdown like that. Pieter would follow his Captain to hell and back, but he sometimes he needed someone to point things out to him."

"Burl, the boy's gone through things that would have broken soldiers. And aye, he's happier than he's been in a long while, and he's doing well. But he's still a child. Seeing the town would have brought everything back at once. We're finding those slavers, but ya gotta know that Roo's gonna take it hard. Mayhaps it'll give him comfort. Maybe'll hide. But they need to be stopped."

He looked out at the sparkling sea, watching the dark blurs of the fish swimming around the Borealis. They stood silently, looking out on the waves.

"Ye should speak to Hana too- she's been keeping it together but she's gonna come apart ugly like."

Rohaan struggled. There were two letters he didn't know, and with hands tanned by the sun so that his dirty fingernails stood out slightly, he pointed at them. "What are the names of these letters? I know these, but not those two." As he studied the word, he fiddled with the iron ball that hung around his neck. He still had a very small hitch in his breath if he drew in a deep one, but mostly his mind was filled with the story and the letters on the page. He didn't have the emotional awareness to be thankful for it, but deep down, he was.

--

Berlin gave a heavy sigh. "I know. I know. I forget he's ten. He doesn't always act like it which...now that I think about it isn't really a good thing. He should be climbing trees and skinning knees, not getting shot at." Another long sigh. "I guess I never knew exactly what he went through. He never did tell me everything, but he agreed to tell me more later. He doesn't talk about his parents except in passing, or a mere mention that they're dead. I mean I always knew it was bad but...Barizians." Berlin did not have the experience with them that either Rohaan or Wheel had, but he'd heard plenty of rumors all right. "I guess I knew all of these things were true. That they needed to come up eventually I just...I wasn't ready, Pieter. But something tells me..." He looked up from his mug to glance down to the steps that led to the cabin. "He won't run and hide when he sees them." His tone was dark. "This," he said, gesturing to the superficial but long scratches on his chest, "Is what he did to ME. It was an instinct. Something he did without thinking. And it wasn't until I touched him that he melted. I've seen that look in his eyes before, but not in him..." His gaze drifted to Wheel, who was busy coiling ropes. The two shared a silent, unspoken image of a shapeshifter with the level of bloodlust as Wheel. Berlin actually shivered.

Pieter mentioned Hana and he had a look on his face like he'd just been slapped with icy water. The man sat bolt upright in a panic, and then obvious guilt set in on his face. "Sweet Lady Tevira! I hadn't even thought--I mean, between dealing with Wheel and the villagers, and then Rheoaan I..." He hadn't checked in with the rest of his crew. Wheel was fine, he knew. Uban would be disturbed but fine--he'd seen some things in his day and had faced his share of hard times. Pieter he knew would be fine even if he did see the whole thing. But Hana was new. She was not a pirate. She wasn't even a criminal--or at least as far as he knew. He had the sense she was avoiding something but there were many reasons to run from one's past. Berlin was glad he wasn't drunk yet. He was a big man with a heavy tolerance and it would take more than a couple pours to get him.

Berlin thudded his mug down and rose. "I should go now and talk to her. Stars above, what would I do without you, Pieter?" He shook his head, still bewildered at his own shortsightedness. "Fill that mug and yours till that bottle is empty. And when it is, and I get back, I have a bottle of honest to goodness whiskey I've been saving in my cabin. You and I are gonna see to it that it's gone by end of day." And that was a promise.

With a level of composure that was so characteristic of Berlin and yet so far from the open vulnerability he'd just showed Pieter, he strode coolly across the length of the ship and back down to the cabin below. A shirtless Berlin, hair uncharacteristically down and kinked where the tie had once held it in a ponytail, appeared from the steps. Rohaan looked up at him, fearing his time had come to have a very unpleasant conversation, but instead, Berlin said, "Alright lad, Bithdo's gonna have to wait. We got a ship to run. Wheel and Uban could use you topside, up aloft."
Loathe to tear himself away from the story but relieved that Berlin did not want to have their talk now, Rohaan dutifully hopped up, gave an odd looking gesture that only he ever gave Berlin--a vokurian salute--and with an, "Aye Ca-mm!" he bounded off.

Berlin watched him go, then watched Hana shut the book. "I can't thank you enough for your help back there," he began. "I know you two are just getting to know eachother and with him that can be...daunting. If I was thinking clearly I would have handed him off to Uban, but you were there and I was worried Wheel might do something stupid. When we met, I had great faith in you. But even so, you still surprise me. You've done very well." He offered a smile and lowered himself onto the foot of her bed carefully, showing none of the exhaustion he'd showed Pieter. He was good at that, at keeping composed when he needed to. After a little pause to let that sink in, he asked with the utmost sincerity as his stormy eyes searched hers, "How are you? It occurred to me that not being a pirate before this, it might be your first time...encountering something like that. I'm only sorry I didn't ask you earlier. Are you alright?"

Pieter lifted his mug in salute as Berlin strode away and put it to his lips, chuckling. The first mate had a relatively easy job- pay attention to everything the captain wasn't, and let him know about it when need be. If the navy had officers half as good as Berlin, it's likely Pieter would have stayed an honest man. As it was, the Cap'n was able to keep the Borealis running fine on it's near skeleton crew. It helped that much of the crew was magic, but credit was due where credit was due. Still, having such a small crew meant that he and Berlin needed to stay aware of their needs and make sure they were met. That was material- They went through as much rum in a week as a Ship of the Line did. Pieter knew, because he was the one who had to keep track. But there were other needs- such as the temperament and humors of the crew that had to be addressed. With the aftermath of the ruined town, it was clear that the more sensitive members of the crew would need to be seen to.

Pieter continued to reflect on the roles and responsibilities conferred to the first mate as he packed his pipe, enjoying the slight breeze that had picked up. He took a drink of his rum and watched the rolling of the sea.

--

Wheel stopped next to Uban, they were both working on the minor tasks that had to be done daily to live at sea. They had worked in silence together for a time, when they saw the Cap'n go past, descending to the crew quarters.
"Huh. Figure the Cap'n is gonna look after Rohaan and the witch." Wheel remarked, "What exactly happened? The girl was a dolt in the town, so I don't know how she's gonna stay on with us."

--

Hana had just finished making sure Rio knew the difference between 'I' and 'J' when she looked up to see the Captain- now shirtless and smelling slightly of rum, enter the small room. After the brief exchange with Rio, he scampered past them to rattle up the stairway.
"Are you alright?"
Hana's vision swam as she blinked away tears she hadn't been aware of keeping back. "Ah, Captain. I'm uh. I'll be fine. It's just that I. I've never.. I didn't know what it actually meant. To see slavers like that." She drew her arms around herself, shivering.
"If we're going after the ones who did this, if it means we're going to stop them.."
She took a deep breath, steadying herself, "If I can help bring those who did this to justice, I will do what I can."

Rohaan shivered a little as he came up on deck. Under a blanket and huddled in a bed, he was quite warm, but the breeze and the autumn sun that seemed warm enough for Pieter and Berlin felt like a cold hand tickling his body. They were in a warmer region, but still not the far tropics that he knew. The void left by the lack of a story and words to think about made him remember everything all over again, but it hurt less now. He was ready for it this time. Still, he couldn't help a single hiccuping sob and a little hidden sniffle as he assumed his position in the rigging of the mainsail. But he swallowed it down hard, putting on a stony face instead. He would not cry. Not again. Not in front of them. In the dark of night when it was just him up in his hammock aloft, the Nest, he called it, then he might allow it. But not now. He knew Berlin wouldn't blame him, but he'd be damned if he showed that much vulnerability in front of Wheel especially. The man was tough and unflappable--something Rohaan always admired.

But the wind, which did more than shuffle a breeze up aloft, did little to distract him from his thoughts. He kept seeing the town. He kept remembering seeing his home up in flames, wanting to go and help, to fight. But then watching both his parents fall, and knowing this foe was beyond him. And he remembered the dark, dank of the Barizian ship's hold, where they were crammed in there like dead fish, forced to lie on top of each other. Rohaan gripped the nearest rope hard, till his tanned knuckles went white. No. He wouldn't stand for it. Not now. He was stronger now and he was ready.

They would pay. With blood, they would pay.

---

Uban minded the helm while Berlin was away, though there was little to do in such calm seas, so he often busied himself with other little tasks that he could easily drop if he needed to. "Ah give her a break," he chided. "She's greener than me when I first came on. I'd never seen the ocean in my life, but at least I had prison under my belt already to harden me." He wiggled what was left of his missing finger. "She'll get there. She seems like she came from a proper background but nobody comes and joins a pirate crew--especially not this one--if they don't have a reason to want to. There's more to her than I think we yet know. As for Rohaan..." Uban glanced up aloft briefly. "It wasn't good. Apparently he's a survivor of a Barizian raid, and it was on one of their ships that he ended up in Tavalor. I can only wonder how he made it out--seems like they know what to do with a shifter like him. He's never talked much about it except in passing, you know. But he saw their flag and just like, I thought he was gone for a second, you know? Like soldiers do. Just empty eyes. But then he turns on the cap'n as a bear and gets him across the chest. It's lucky it wasn't me, and Berlin's lucky that's all he did. I don't have Berlin's touch, you know? And I don't know if he would have remembered we were friends without a little help. But then he just like, unravels like I never seen before. Just a bad time, all around..." Uban shook his head.

"But you know, now even I want blood. Not just you anymore, I think. We'll all get it and it's gonna be sweet. But before we do, I think we oughtta put Hana through her paces. Do some combat training, you me and Rohaan, eh?"

---

Berlin nodded. "I know. It's...shocking. Especially the first time." He put his big hand through his hair, forgetting for a moment that it was down and his wandering fingers showed this. "I never did tell you what we do. Who we are. Pirates, you knew, but I'm sure you've guessed we aren't typical sea rats. Now don't get me wrong, we do a bit of merchant ship plundering, drinking, and plenty of treason, but if there's one thing we really do, it's track down people like them and remind them that there are more frightening things in this ocean than them. We attack slaver ships all the time, but we haven't had much, if any, encounters with Barizians. They're a special case, it seems. I can assure you, we'll see to it that they get their comeuppance. But look here," he said, his tone getting firm and almost stern except there was a softness in his eyes. "While a fight may come to you, I won't make you enter into combat. That's a choice each of us has made and if you choose not to, I respect that. Wheel might not," he said with a little chuckle, "But that's just his way. I also urge you to be open with me as your captain. It's my job to see to it my crew is taken care of, and I can't help you if I don't know what you need. Aye?"

This sort of thing was what set Berlin apart from other sailors in his legal career. When he had men under him, he not only kept them in line when needed and maintained order, but he also went out of his way to make sure they had what they needed to do their jobs well. To find the balance between strong, hard, and worthy of respect, and to be also empathetic, was a difficult thing to do, but Berlin managed it well. It was something he swore from the beginning that he would do as a captain.

Berlin took out a small battered flask from his back pocket. "Here. You might want this. There's a reason sailors drink, Hana." He gave a little chuckle.

Wheel spat over the side of the ship, conceding that Uban had a point. "Damn, fair enough. And you're right, this crew is plenty good at taking down merchant ships and some coastal slavers, but the Barizians are likely to roll us." He straightened up, tossing the heavy coil of rope he had been tending onto the deck. "I'll talk to Pieter about arranging a training day." With that, the berserker sauntered off, leaving Uban alone.

--

Pieter saw Wheel approach with the feigned casualness that let him know that Wheel was going to ask something of him. "Yes."

Pieter spoke flatly. The two men had a relationship founded on the fact that neither of them would blink if they had to kill the other. There was a time for mercy and kindness, but it wasn't between them. Wheel could guess at how much Pieter had seen, and Pieter was more familiar with the berserkers life than anyone else aboard ship. They could speak honestly to one another.

"The crew needs combat training. Uban's never done anything like this, Rohaan's a danger to us as much as anyone right now, and Hana's greener than hell and vomited seeing a dead body. Barizians aren't normal, and it'd be suicide to crash the Borealis into them. "

Pieter nodded and chewed his lip. "Aye. I'll talk to the Cap'n. Start figuring out what you'll need."

--

Hana gratefully took the flask and took a sip. She hadn't known what exactly she had agreed to when she went with Berlin, just that it seemed like an opportunity to get away from the Schools. Life on the Borealis wasn't like anything she'd experienced before, either at the Schools or when she had made her way across the Continent as a hedge mage. But she hadn't been prepared for that leap either. She'd made it because it was what she had to do. She'd leapt onto this strange little ship with transforming boys and men who could summon lightning. What else could she do but adapt? Wiping her mouth, she looked at the kindly pirate captain, "Thank you, Berlin. You're a true gentleman." Rising to her feet, she took a deeper swig of the rum, shaking her head at the bite. "Ooh. Careful, Captain, you'll make a drunkard of me." Squaring her shoulders, she bobbed a curtsy which was slightly ruined when she fumbled with the flask, spilling some on her breeches.
"Oh fie!" Uselessly blotting at the spill with her hands, she cursed under her breath before remembering who was with her. "Pardon, Captain. I uh.. If you'll excuse me a minute, I'll get myself presentable."

Uban looked surprised. “You don’t actually think we’d have trouble, do you? Sure, we’re not fighters the same way you are. I’m not a swordsman. I do fine with a dagger but…” he shrugged, and as he did, he held out his hands as if asking for something and let a purplish arc jump between them with a loud buzz, making the hair on both of their arms stand up on end. “I can kill a man by touching him. And you know I’m reeeallly close to being able to make projectiles. And if you think for one second that Rohaan can’t fight well enough, then you’ve CLEARLY never given him a bath or tried to make him put on shoes. Like, the kid can sink a ship. Just him.” He scowled a little, his confidence waning into something closer to worry. “You can’t tell me that we’d actually meet our match with THAT,” he said pointing up into the rigging, “and as personal as this is to him. I mean…what makes them so special?”

—

Rohaan was beginning to feel restless. He loved being aloft, and he was more comfortable up there than any sailor ever could be, as it was nearly impossible for him to fall to the deck. He’d slipped many times, but in a flash he would flit back up to the yard or the shroud as a sparrow and that was all. This made him bold and very quick in the rigging. But at the moment there was little to do. A few adjustments to the sails here and there at Uban’s call, and then he would wait.

At the moment, with all the day’s adrenaline still coursing through him (though considerably less than it was) this lull was a curse. If he wasn’t doing something, his mind would wander and he didn’t want to think about that anymore.

Whoever once said that idle hands were the Devil’s playthings clearly had met someone like Rohaan. On the Borealis, he was typically good natured and though still a little wild, kept in line well enough under the watchful eye of Berlin. There, he had a purpose. A routine. But boredom brought out something wicked and evil in him, a mischief to rival all the stories of trickster gods there ever were.

So naturally he began hocking spit down onto the deck, aiming for his forever foe, Wheel. He never tired of irritating him, mostly because he could get away with it...if Berlin wasn’t watching. Pieter had been known to call him off this game a few times, but Rohaan did not show the same reverence to anyone the way he did Berlin and would gleefully dance away from his swats. His first few attempts went very wide, and he began factoring in the drift of the wind. Mm, he needed to move further aft. So he swung as a monkey from one line to the other until, stalking his prey, he got closer. Another failed attempt, a quick adjustment and—

“Oop!” He squeaked in surprise victory. He didn’t wait to see if it landed direct, but he knew from its trajectory that it would at least get close enough for him to notice. The boy in the rigging disappeared and fluttered away as a bird, sweeping up to the Nest where he reverted forms and tried to look the picture of innocence. He never did this very well.

—

Berlin looked almost surprised for a moment, staring at her with a subtle frown that was almost severe. “Gentleman? No, I am no gentleman. I might have been as a very young lad but those days are far behind me. You shouldn’t mistake my kindness for good character. I’m not evil, but I’m no paragon.” He said this matter of factly. “We’re all of us criminals, you know. Don’t forget that. Some of us, most of us, before we even became pirates. Uban didn’t lose that finger on the Borealis.” He gave a little laugh. “But aye, I might make a drunkard out of you. The only one of us who isn’t is Rheoaan and that’s only because all hell would break loose if that lad got drunk.” Another laugh. “Keep that flask. I got me a feeling you’ll need it again, and before long you’ll have a real taste for it. Try it with lime.” He offered a smile, smoothing his hair out of his face, which he was not accustomed to having loose.

He watched her try and curtsy, and the subsequent politeness that followed and he laughed softly. He had an infectious laugh that showed as much in his gray eyes as in his grinning mouth, and it was a warm, jovial sound. “You know, I meant what I said when we met. If you wanted, I’d take you to Ramos and leave you be. After all, I owe you a debt. That option still stands. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope you’d stay. Anyway, I have some…captainly business topside to see to…you know. High priority.” He smiled, tilting his fingers back like they were holding a cup. “If the boy gives you any trouble, Uban can help you.” And with that, he returned to Pieter at the fore, sitting down on the crate again with a woody creak.

“Well then, where were we…?”

Wheel sucked his teeth, trying to ignore the flare of annoyance. Shrugging as he sauntered away, he called out, "Sometimes, Uban, you remind me that you used to be a farmer."

After speaking with Pieter, Wheel strode towards the cabins to begin preparing for a training session at the island. Berlin and Pieter would work with pistols to start, while Uban and Hana would collaborate on magic. They'd need that if they were really chasing after Barizians. As for Ro- A splatter of wet spittle struck Wheel on the side of his head, slowly sliding down the face.

E
"FUCKING"
NOUGH
'ROHAAN!"

Wheel could see where a sparrow turned into a boy clutching at the Nest, faking nonchalance like it'd save him. Wheel's head tore around, looking for something that he could hit the boy with. Not seeing anything suitable, he hopped up on one leg and pulled the boot off his foot with a savage yank. Fixing his gaze on the Nest, Wheel wound up and flung the boot directly at Rohaan.

---

Hana flushed at the Captain's remarks, and looked down as he left. Sure, the Borealis was a pirate ship, but it's not like they'd done anything wrong yet. She studied the dented pewter flask in her hands. Drinking had been a regular part of life at the Schools, but she'd rarely drink by herself. She took another sip, then tucked the flask underneath her pillow. Turning, she set about tidying up her room, humming under her breath.

Uban gave an uncharacteristically icy stare after Wheel. It wasn’t the slight itself that made him scowl—he WAS a farmer and had only been at this for about five years. He wasn’t going to pretend he was the most experienced sailor in the world, or even a warrior. It was the man’s attitude that soured him. Not that Wheel was ever friendly. But if there really was something so awful about the Barizians beyond a taste for violence and a fierce tenacity, then he could have at least answered the question and filled him in. Uban was good in combat. Not exactly traditional, but good in his own way. What were they up against if that wasn’t enough?

He was about to growl something back at him over the woody creaking and the wind, but even before he drew breath he saw Wheel howl at Rohaan in rage. He didn’t need to see to know what happened, and with a sense of smug satisfaction, he laughed out of sight of the berserker.

The boot sailed through the air with all the force of a cannon ball and in order to dodge it, Rohaan rolled over the edge of his perch and dropped, allowing at least 10 feet of freefall before shifting to a hawk and snapping his wings out, sweeping up on a draft and climbing high above even the top of the main mast, where he circled slowly.

The boot collided with the sturdy boards of the Nest with a very serious crack, sending splinters of wood that had burst off the surface of two of the planks showering down. The hardy board stayed true despite this, but it rattled the mast all the way down so they could feel the thud at their feet. If Rohaan wasn’t so quick to dodge, and it had his his head, then the boy would have been knocked unconscious quite badly, and then for the first time his falling from the rigging would actually be a problem.

Berlin, who had just taken his first sip from his mug since coming back, cringed at the whole scene and thought halfheartedly about reprimanding Wheel, when he realized Rohaan had deserved it. As long as it didn’t escalate, he was too tired to pursue it further and simply let it go with a very put-upon grunt and a nonplussed glance to Pieter beside him, who had just been telling him about the need for a training session—a sentiment he wholly agreed with.

Uban sighed. “You know that only makes it worse....he’s looking to get a reaction out of you. It’s why you’re always his target—you always rise to the occasion. Trust me, I had brothers.” And though he thought Wheel deserved it, he knew that kind of behavior from the boy would cause trouble. And, seeing as how Berlin was ‘busy’, it fell to him to deal with. Unless it was a matter of command, in which case Pieter would be the first to step in, Uban usually was the one that dealt with Rohaan when Berlin was either gone or occupied. Being the token friendly one of the crew, Rohaan had warmed up to him easier than the rest and therefore had a better rapport.

Uban gave a long, sharp whistle, calling the hawk down to him. When the hawk changed to the scrubby troublemaker, he said in as authoritative a tone he could muster, “oi, cut that out, or Berlin will have at you. Belay that, I’LL have at you.” Uban reached his hand out so that it hovered over Rohaan’s head and, as a soft crackle sounded in the air, he made Rohaan’s wild hair stand up on end like a warning of what he could do to him. But he could see the way Rohaan’s eyes never met his, and he fidgeted where he stood in a way that wasn’t like him, like a war horse pawing at the turf on a slow morning. Uban sighed. He knew this mood. He’d seen it before. It was like anxiety, though instead of drinking or pacing, it manifested in the kid as impish malice. “Look, instead of being an ass, why don’t you go make a round and see if you can spot a nice little sandbar or island or something. We’re gonna do some combat training before we get into this. Give my sorry ass a heading, would you?”
Rohaan nodded, unconsciously grateful for something to do that would expend lots of energy. He bounded away towards the railing, but he stopped halfway with a thoughtful expression and pivoted on his heel towards—Oh no…

Uban’s stomach lurched as the boy went straight for Wheel. They were easily the two most volatile members of the crew and if a fight broke out between them, Uban was hopelessly outclassed. But all he wanted was to give Pieter and Berlin a moment to themselves—a moment much needed. He couldn’t fail them now. Uban made a move to intercept, but hesitated at the scene before him, which was not what he expected.

“Wheeeeeeel….” Rohaan tugged on the back of Wheel’s shirt, already on the balls of his feet in case he needed to dance away from a powerful swipe. But before the man could actually strike him, he blurted out with the kind of breathless urgency that only kids have when they get excited about something, “When we stop, can you teach me how to fight with a knife? Keva’tiiiiiiiiii….?” This was a word that even those who did not speak Vokurian could recognize as ‘please’. “Berlin won’t teach me because he thinks I’ll hurt someone with it, y’know, ‘cause I’m kinda wild and stuff. But, but,’ he continued as he shifted his weight between his two bare feet anxiously, knowing it was very likely he’d get a hard ‘no’. “I can’t hurt you with it and besides, I’m good at…at….” He looked at his hands. He had no idea what the Carisian term for ‘spatial awareness’ was, so he spat out at a loss, “Irah-tena’aisi’e!” And tried again. “I’m good…with…like with my hands and stuff. I’m…cord….c-cordated?” He meant ‘coordinated’, but that was as close as he would get. “We can do some like really advanced flying stuff!” He offered in return. “Like catching you in midair or something! C’mon whaddya say? Keva’ti?” His enthusiasm was so exuberant it was nearly explosive, and it was hard to imagine, looking at the lad, that he’d been antagonizing Wheel just moments before.

Hana finished adjusting her shirtsleeves, pulling them into order. After her gaff earlier, she wanted to look more presentable than usual. And that meant it was time to shave. Her nappy hair had already started to grow back, and she wanted to keep the smooth head of a hedge mage. She wasn't entitled to any of the jewelry a school mage could wear, but at the very least she could tell the world that she was a practitioner of finer arts. Well, not as much a practitioner as the crew thought she was. She could make plenty of small magics appear effortless, but she still worried about what would happen if she was pushed to truly change the weather. Either the spell would fail, and nothing would happen, or it'd fail and they wouldn't be alive to see what happened next.
Still, she thought, as she lifted the bronze washbowl into her hands, it was possible that she'd pull it off. The very hubris of that sent her down another rabbit hole of worries, which she firmly chose to ignore.

The early evening was bright after her time in the cabin, and the ruddy light of the sun on her face brought her back into the moment, the concerns she'd agonized over by herself seeming to ease away. She was on a pirate ship, sure, but they certainly weren't villains. The breeze that had been blowing earlier had entered a lull, and she could hear everything with perfect clarity on the ship. Pieter and Berlin talking in low, deep rumbles near the front of the ship. The creaking of the ropes. The shattering of wood as Wheel flung his.. Shoe? At Rio as he sat in the Nest. The boy had transformed and escaped with ease, but the thought of the boot connecting with it's target sent shivers down her spine. Splinters of wood rocked down from the rigging, and a few slivers of timber landed on her shoulders.

Looking to the Captain to see what would happen, Hana was shocked when Berlin just drank from his mug and turned back to his first mate. Crew members flinging footwear at one another at lethal speeds was not something to worry about, apparently. Her arms were starting to ache, and Hana remembered what she had come on deck to do. Hurrying to set the basin next to the barrels of fresh water, Hana took the ladle and scooped the water into the bowl. The water was cool, and she paused to take a sip. Rum was nice, but Hana wasn't ready to give up on clean water completely. She was a land lubber at heart, she guessed.

---

Wheel shook out his arm after the throw. He'd have to go up later to make sure no permanent damage had been done to the Nest, but he felt good about his throw. The boot was tangled up in some ropes, meaning he wouldn't have to take shoes off of somebody. That was nice, he liked these boots. Uban came up to him, sighing and giving him a look, saying,
"You know that only makes it worse....he’s looking to get a reaction out of you. It’s why you’re always his target—you always rise to the occasion. Trust me, I had brothers.”
Wheel nodded absentmindedly, letting the words wash over him without giving it much thought. "Ayyup. Well, he'll stop the first time I actually hit him. That's how I learned when I was his age."

Uban whistled, and Wheel watched the hawk turn on his wing and come soaring down, settling with a flap of wing and arm, until the boy was squatting next to the two men. Wheel rolled himself a cigarette while Uban chewed out Ro, and was fumbling through his pockets for the box of matches when the kid started tugging on his shirt. Cursing, he started to lift his hand to slap the idiot when he started to blather, words tumbling out,
“When we stop, can you teach me how to fight with a knife? Keva’tiiiiiiiiii….? Berlin won’t teach me because he thinks I’ll hurt someone with it, y’know, ‘cause I’m kinda wild and stuff. But, but," Wheel raised an eyebrow, amused to hear the brat begging a favor from him. He hadn't thought the boy was smart enough to realize that he should know how to fight like a man, but realized that there was probably more going on behind those devilish eyes than he thought.
"C’mon whaddya say? Keva’ti?”

Wheel laughed, lighting his cigarette and carefully watching the boys reaction to being laughed at in his face.

"Sure, kid. But you've got no fucking muscle." Wheel wrapped one of his hands completely around the boys forearm, "Sure you can become a fucking dragon, but you're still weak as shit. You'd probably drop a knife on your foot the first time I gave you one." Wheel spoke with bored venom- he wanted to know if the boy had enough resolve to stick through it, and still half thought the kid was trying to pull something. Turning his back on Rohaan, he walked to one of the coils of rope Uban had just finished tending to. There was a heavy wooden belaying pin being kept on top of the rope- in a navy ship they never would have left it out like that, but there wasn't much of a chance of mutiny aboard the Borealis. Picking up the pin, he tossed it to the boy, "Go fly around, but carry this with you. If you can come back without dropping it, I'll start teaching you how to fight like a man. Go, I need to take a piss and you're annoying me." Wheel pulled on his cigarette, blew out and walked away, leaving the shifter and the sailor standing together.

---

Hana nodded to Wheel as he walked down belowdecks, choosing not to comment on the fact he only wore one boot. Looking back, she saw Uban and Rio, and called out, "Uban! Could I ask you to do me a favor?"

Rohaan's face screwed up tight like Wheel had just offended his ancestors. Indignantly, he shouted, with his little fists balled up and punched down at his sides, "I WOULD NOT!" He muttered in vokurian under his breath and then put a snarl on his face that was not quite the venomous one he once gave Hana, but defiant and cunning, and there was a gleam in his eyes. He had now been presented with a challenge, and he was more than game to conquer it. When his momentary flash of indignant anger cooled, Rohaan smugly folded his arms and challenged, "Weak as shit, huh?" He snorted, and then suddenly there were two of Wheel, but one with lapis lazuli eyes. And, in a perfect imitation of mannerisms and intonation he challenged, "Say that again." The idea of not having muscle to Rohaan seemed silly. If he wanted muscle, he could simply get it. He did not have to gain it in the same way others did--at least in the short term. What mattered far more, and he knew this very well, was the reflex and muscle memory.

His point made, Rohaan reverted back to himself and watched Wheel scoop up a belay pin and toss it at him. His quick hands snapped out and caught it. He hefted the thing, judging its weight, but he kept giving Wheel a look that very clearly said 'is this supposed to be hard?' Though he understood what Wheel was trying to do, at least to some degree, Rohaan noted that the man clearly did not understand how shifters worked. As a dragon, he regularly carried Wheel's bulk without trouble, and so now this piece of wood, this mere splinter to a dragon, was supposed to be a challenge?

But that wasn't the point and he knew it. Eager to prove himself, Rohaan thought through which form would suit his needs best but would also prove that he had some steel. A cyradan was too easy, but a sparrow or swallow would be physically impossible. As Wheel stalked off, Rohaan nodded to himself and with the pin in hand, took a running start, vaulted over the gunnel, and swept away as an eagle with the belay pin clutched in his talons.

Uban watched him go, wondering absently what it must be like to have no concept of fear of falling or drowning. He was comfortable both at heights and in water, but not like Rohaan, who had them all beat in that regard. There was no risk in it for him, no reason not to push limits. And then, thoughts beginning to wander, he mused about whether or not a vokurian had ever drowned. He was debating this silently to himself when Hana approached him. Uban turned and gave his signature crooked smile. It was almost reflexive for him, though no less genuine. That was simply how he was. "Aye, whatcha need?" he answered her.

---

Berlin was near the bottom of his mug again before he even showed signs of melting. Since the incident with Wheel, Rohaan, and the boot, he hadn't given himself to relaxing and was quite literally waiting for the other shoe to drop. He watched the two argue apparently, though again he saw no signs of escalation and that was the only thing that kept his ass in his seat. A fight between those two could be--WOULD be disastrous. This was a concept Rohaan did not seem to understand, despite the many times Berlin had tried to explain it to him. Either that, or, as Berlin suspected, he knew but willfully wanted to see how far he could push it before it reached a breaking point.

The liquor, consumed very quickly, was beginning to catch up with him now--just a bit--and he set the now empty mug down on the barrel a little harder than he meant to, like the barrel had risen up to meet his hand unexpectedly and was not where he thought it ought to be; it gave a small thud. Berlin let his head rest against the prow behind him and reflected for a moment on how much he liked the sound of creaking wood and rattling rigging hardware. "You know...days like today I complain about the stress of being responsible for a ship, even one so small as ours. But truthfully, I'd get bored without it. Found that out the hard way when I tried retiring some years ago, just before I got the Borealis." He patted the timbers affectionately like the ship was a trusty horse. "Never did tell you much about that short stint on land, did I?" He gave Pieter a smile that was soft but almost roguish. That bloomed into a full grin, and then to a sort of embarrassed laugh. "I had wife once. Did I ever tell you about Adrienne?"

--

Rohaan had been out longer than he imagined he would have been, and it was some time indeed. But he did return, still holding the pin in his talons and did a few circles over the Borealis before finding Wheel in the darkness and sweeping down as if to dive-bomb him. But instead he pulled up sharply and let go of the belay pin, sending it swooshing at Wheel so that it bounced off his back. It wasn't dropped from a height that it would cause any lasting damage beyond a bruise, even to Uban or Pieter, but to Wheel it would be irksome at worst. The bird swept back around, landing on the gunnel where it grew to be a boy; he sat breathing hard but looking quite smug as he pointed and said, "Oi, that way, Uban. There's an island with some animals there that would be good hunting." He had a hungry gleam in his eye--and a growl in his stomach. Rohaan wanted food, and then he wanted sleep, as he hadn't gotten much to begin with the night before and shifting long term took lots of energy.

Pieter didn't seem to react much to Berlin's confession, but he sucked deeply on his pipe as he refilled Berlin's mug. Exhaling a plume of smoke, he said, "No, I don't think you have told me. Tell me about it."

---

Hana returned Uban's natural smile with a sheepish one in return, she certainly might have seemed like an ass for yelling all the way across the Borealis. Still, he was here and smiling, "Oh, umm. If you weren't busy, I was going to ask if you could shave my scalp. I can do it by myself, but it's a pain to reach everything. If you don't mind, of course.

--

Wheel had sorted through and organized the materials they needed for the training, dulled blades for training, wire and cloth dummies for targets, and plenty of shot and powder for the marksmanship practice. He also had marked the barrels and weights he intended to saddle everyone with for the obstacle course he designed. He didn't take many things seriously, but he understood the importance of physical readiness to keep the crew in fighting condition. The Barizians would outmatch them, and the only way the Borealis would stand a chance is if they could outfight, outrun, and outfuck all of the slavers. And he'd be damned if he wouldn't make it happen. The curse was singing to him, a satisfied beat that let him focus on the task at hand. It knew what the training was for, and it was eager to help Wheel get ready for the violence that was coming.

--

Wheel stood on the deck watching the eagle descend and throw the pin at him. And while the eagle was fast, his reflexes let him easily catch the speeding pin with one hand behind his back. He knew it would irk the boy, which is why he did it. While he talked to Uban, he waited, tossing the pin easily up into the air and catching it. After the boy had finished and started to descend to the galley to find some grub, he called out, "Good work, boy. Maybe you'll amount to something I can make a passable fighter out of. Get your rest, you'll need it for tomorrow." Smirking, he rolled a cigarette and lit it, looking up at the night sky.

Berlin gave a sheepish grin. "Foolish of me to think I could ever leave my Lady Tevira. The sea has always been my first and greatest love. But aye, I thought my rollin' days were done and thought to settle down, and she ensnared me. It was good for a while, but then I started wandering down by the docks and taking work there, but the kind where I'd come home afterward. And you know how it is. One thing leads to another, and I convinced her to let me go on a short trip that lasted about a month. And then that trip turned to two, and so on. She finally came to me and said that I had to choose. Her, or the sea. And I knew then that I couldn't. I left her. I sometimes wonder how she's getting on...she's a decent lady, the sort that didn't seem to mind that I was a pirate. She told her friends I was a 'privateer' though." He laughed a little. "I couldn't bear the thought of scorning her publicly--I did love her, really. So I told her to keep my name and tell everyone I'd been lost to the sea. It's half the reason I don't use my surname anymore--In fact I think you're the only soul aboard that knows me as Berlin Havaiann. I like to think I...gave it to her. Plus it adds a pinch of theatrics to my pirating legend," he joked, though he meant it. He always did like watching decent men's faces screw up when they searched their brains or records for his last name and came up short.

"No children though," he said, relieved, after a long sip. "I wouldn't know what to do with a kid of my own. Rheoaan doesn't count--he's older and far more independent than any other lad his age, and besides, he ain't exactly mine. Not to mention he ain't got a chance at a decent future, not as a shifter. But can you imagine me barking orders and boarding ships with a baby?" He gave a visible shudder. "I'd have to actually be a decent man to set an example for my spawn." Berlin chuckled at that, finding the idea highly amusing.

--

"Ah!" Uban nodded, understanding as he stepped away from the helm. "Aye, 'course I can. I heard you telling Rohaan once it's...like a mark of your station, right? Not to mention a hell of a lot easier to maintain..." He said this flicking one greasy lock of his shoulder-length wavy brown hair like he did any maintaining at all. It was rough and tangled looking from so much exposure to saltwater, and he usually wore it back in a half ponytail loosely tied with a piece of leather.

"I assume you got a razor? If not I got one down in my chest I use for shavin' my face. I promise not to nick ya, neither. C'mon, take a seat then." He pulled over a crate that had once held apples but now served as a net for the times Rohaan went diving for lobsters, crabs, or mussels.

Pieter stayed silent as Berlin spoke, nodding at the appropriate times. He'd had a general idea of what his captain had been up to before he'd shown up in disguise in the dingy dock tavern, but he'd never pressed the matter before. Whenever he'd ask about that time, Berlin had given vague answers and changed the subject.

Slapping him on the shoulder, Pieter said, "Awh, hell Burl. Not like you're the first sea dog who tried to settle down b'fore his time. Hell, you stick around on this earth long enough, I imagine you'll try and settle down a few more times b'fore Sweet Tevira finishes with you." A sadness came over Pieter without his awareness, it darkly played over his face, turning down the corners of his mouth before he continued, "I've got kids all over. Sometimes, when I'm in a port that I'd been in before, I try and look for the lads and lasses who would be old enough to be from then. See myself or their mothers in them. I barely remember the mothers, and I've got no clue how I looked when I had piss and vinegar inside me. So I just look at them all like I would my own. And all I see are my kids ending up as broken backed stevedores and harlots."
Gentler than he had been, he placed his hand on the younger man's shoulder, "Master Havaiann. I've seen what kind of future awaits our children. Nothing but toil for a crust of bread. Rohaan. He's free. You're showing him how to live outside of the lords and ladies and mages."
He puffed once, twice at his pipe. He gingerly removed his hand, scratching at his chin as he spoke in a hoarse whisper, "Decency is whatever the courts decide it is. We're free. Free to choose what kind of men we are."