The ocean spray was bitter cold, and the whispering easterly stiff. Sjan-dehk felt both acutely from where he stood aboard his Sada Kurau: right by her four bow chasers and just to the right of where her long bowsprit the hull. As far forward as her main deck would allow, and thus as exposed to the elements as one could get. Briny water lashed against his days-unshaven face. The bracing wind cut through his linen clothes and flesh to chill his very bones. He paid neither much heed, instead concentrating on scanning the thick fog ahead through the spyglass he held to his eye.

Behind him, the deck was abuzz with the groggy murmurs and unhappy grumbles of a crew slowly rousing for their sixth day straight of pre-dawn watch. Men reluctantly pulled themselves from open hatches, most dressed shabbily in strained and ratty clothes. Footsteps thumped across well-swabbed planks as they went about their duties, or to the head. The Sada Kurau’s three heavy sails were trimmed and set to the steady rhythm of creaking ropes, rattling tackles, and ruffling fabric.

Sjan-dehk grimaced. The tension and discontent of his crew were palpable. He didn’t blame them; he was none too pleased about this arrangement, himself. If his men needed to be up before the sun even kissed the horizon, then he had to be awake long before then. Awake and dressed for battle, no less. That meant a full set of lamellar armour over his – by now sweat and seawater-soaked – clothes, a tangle of belts about his body supporting scabbards, holsters, and pouches, and a heavy conical helmet hammered from sheet metal perched atop his head.

Not the best way to start a day, to say the least. Granted, much of this was self-inflicted; as captain, he enjoyed certain privileges, exemption from watch duties being one of them. That had never sat well with Sjan-dehk, however. Part of a captain’s role was to set a good example for the crew, even if that involved undertaking some of the more tiresome and loathsome duties.

Besides, nothing united people quite like collective suffering, as he had once been told.

He blinked a few times to relax his eyes, then brought the spyglass up once more. A fair distance ahead and mostly obscured by the impenetrable mist, he could just about make out the outlines of battened sails rising out of the cloudy dark like dragons’ wings. It was all he could see of the treasure ship Sudah, and that discomforted him. For she was a behemoth close to three hundred feet in length, pushing sixty in beam, and sporting five masts thick and tall as the trees from which they had been hewed. To not be able to see such a gargantuan vessel clearly was only testament to the thickness of this accursed fog. Built to impress as much as she was to trade, she was the centrepiece of Sjan-dehk’s fleet of two. The entire reason for its being and also the cause of much of his woes.

Well, it was the people she carried that were troublesome; the ship herself was a beautiful thing. Scholars, archivists, artisans, administrators, even a royal tutor, the Sudah’s senior staff included people of such high skill and standing, but they weren’t sailors. Sjan-dehk doubted they knew their afts from fores or yards from keels. Yet, they somehow had the ear of the Sudah’s captain and had the confidence to be stubborn as mules when discussing nautical matters. A few days ago, he had tried to convince them that, in light of this fog, it was best if they halved the distance between their ships. As usual, they responded with polite nods and meaningless words that seemed to go everywhere and nowhere at once. Sjan-dehk ended the day having achieved nothing aside from boiling his blood.

Just thinking back on it was enough to make him clench his jaw, and so he decided to focus on searching the endless grey for…

He wasn’t quite sure himself, to be honest. Part of him was hoping to find signs of land. Anything at all to tell him that this now-approaching two months-long journey was nearing its end. Not for him; he could likely live on his Sada Kurau forever, but for his crew. Experienced as they were, they needed time ashore to refresh themselves and unwind. Sjan-dehk wasn’t even asking for Sorian – their intended destination – at this point and he surely wasn’t expecting to find it. According to the Sudah’s esteemed archivist in charge of studying the decades-old charts written by long-dead mariners that guided them, they should have reached the city nearly two weeks ago. Instead, here they were. Not for the first time, Sjan-dehk wished he had the authority to toss that arrogant old man and his yellowed manuscripts overboard. They would be just as useful in the deep as they had been on deck, as far as he was concerned.

Another, larger part of him hoped to find a trace of that mysterious ship that had been stalking them. She was, after all, the sole reason why he had his crew on full alert every morning for close to a week, now.

Sjan-dehk hadn’t managed to catch a good look at her since she first appeared days ago, just before they sailed into these foggy waters. Twin-masted, built bluff in contrast to his Sada Kurau’s svelte figure, and well-armed with two large-bore but stubby cannons on her deck; aside from that he could tell no more. Her captain commanded her expertly. They kept her far enough to make chasing her down a hassle, but still close enough to start a fight if they so wished. Typical harassment tactics, something Sjan-dehk had learned to quickly identify after years of hunting pirates. More like than not, they knew about this fog. Why else would they have simply followed and done nothing else for so long? No, Sjan-dehk was certain this was all part of their plan, and the Sudah had led them all right into their jaws.

Had their ships been closer, he would have been more at ease. There was strength in numbers and he could rely on the Sudah’s own lookouts for information. This far apart and with such poor visibility? His Sada Kurau had only herself and her crew. If they made it through this alive and well, Sjan-dehk would have some very strong words with the Sudah’s captain and her senior staff. Their obstinacy had brought great inconvenience to the fleet at best, and placed them in unnecessary danger at worst.

“Sighting off the starboard bow!” A shout from above pulled Sjan-dehk from his thoughts. “Looked like masts in the fog!”

He immediately shifted his view to the right and peered into the distance. Nothing but misty grey, and the mastheads of the Sudah only just peeking through. Furrowing his brow, he brought the spyglass down and turned to look up the foremast. A scruffy looking man sat amongst its web of rigging, nestled rather comfortably where one of the ship’s diagonal lateen yards met its horizontal counterpart. “Are you sure you didn’t just spot the Sudah, Sahman?” Sjan-dehk called back. The resultant smattering of quiet chuckles from those within earshot brought him some modicum of relief. At least they still had some humour left in them.

If Sahman was put off by the remark, he didn’t sound it. “No, captain. Swear I saw just two masts, and little ones too! Sails weren’t battered neither! She was abreast of Sudah last I saw her!”

Sjan-dehk grimaced and returned to scanning the fog in haste. He had few reasons to doubt Sahman’s eyes, and plenty to suspect that their stalker had gotten around them. If that other captain was smart, and if they knew these waters well as Sjan-dehk presumed, they would use the fog to isolate the fleet and pick them off one-by-one. A shame they didn’t come after his Sada Kurau first, but it didn’t matter. The Sudah wasn’t so far away that the Sada Kurau couldn’t be by her side within minutes. Less than that, even, if this following wind held. He just had to find that stalker before she found them.

A series of distant explosions interrupted his thoughts. He saw the flashes first, their reds and yellows for a moment turning patches of fog into fiery clouds. On instinct, he ducked beneath the gunwale and yelled for his crew to do the same. “Down, take cover!” His crew gave alarmed shouts, and things clattered to the deck as they threw themselves upon the planking. Not long after, growling rumbles like the ominous boom of thunder washed over the ship, but not shot or shrapnel. Whatever those cannons were firing at, it wasn’t them, and Sjan-dehk had a pretty good idea as to their target. They were close, too; barely any time separating flash from report.

He slowly pulled himself back onto his feet. Still no sign of the mystery ship, but she had certainly made herself known in a spectacular manner. Well, this was what he had been waiting for; what his entire crew had been preparing for. “All hands to your posts!” Those words left his throat before he even turned to march his way down the deck. A smirk tugged on his lips. At last, his Sada Kurau and her crew could do what they did best. “Sharp and lively now, we’ve finally caught the little shit. Arms and armour to the deck, and someone inform master Mursi we need every firing gun from his workshop!”

Two men ran towards him, stopping to salute – a fist over their chests with shallow bows, as was the Viserjantan fashion – heaving shoulders and short breaths. “I came as soon as I heard, sir,” the shorter and stockier of the two said. His head was shorn almost to the skin, and his muscles bulging beneath his pale saffron tunic. The lamellar plate over his body tried, but didn’t quite succeed in covering every inch of his wide body. “Bloody loud guns, they were. Must’ve been seventy-pounders at the very least.”

“At least,” the other one concurred. Lankier and taller, he would have been noticed by his paler-than-most complexion were it not for the empty right sleeve tied neatly at the base of his remaining stump and tucked neatly into his cross-necked collar. He looked at Sjan-dehk with a pair of eyes which might have never experienced mirth beneath a head of unkempt, dark hair. “What are your orders, captain?”

“We’re practically on top of her, so we’ll have to turn quick and turn hard.” Sjan-dehk placed his hands on his hips and glanced over his shoulder, chewing on his lower lip. “Judging by her cannon flash, I’d put money on her being bow or stern-on towards us. Master Sahm-tehn, give us full sails and turn them towards the wind. Trim the yards as you see fit to give us a tight turn to starboard, and have them catch the wind once we’re on course to give us some speed. We must be swift if we want to catch her off-guard.”

“As you say, captain.” Sahm-tehn offered another salute but stopped just as he turned to leave. “Shall I inform the helmsman, captain?”

Sjan-dehk nodded. “Yes, that would be helpful. Thank you.” With that, Sahm-tehn strode off towards the stern, bellowing orders as he did to his riggers both on deck and amongst the masts. Sjan-dehk turned to the other man with a grin. “Well, first officer Azwan, what do you think?”

The Sada Kurau’s second-in-command didn’t share in his captain's excitement. “Those big guns of hers will tear us to shreds if we get too close. We’ll have to play with range with our speed, but with this damn fog there’s only so much we can do. However, if she’s distracted with the Sudah, we might be able to sneak our way in for at least one good broadside.”

With a pleased smile, Sjan-dehk clapped the man on the shoulder. “Good assessment as always. We’ll make a damn fine captain out of you yet, but for now I need you on the gun deck. Command them as you see fit. I trust you will have them firing straight and true and in our usual manner, but make sure the men reload them quickly. We may have to go alongside her and I don’t want us caught in that position with empty guns.”

“Alongside? You mean to board her?”

“The Sudah’s a strong ship, but she can only take so much punishment. We have to end this quick, and that means boarding her.” Sjan-dehk took a step back and spread his hands wide. “And besides, boarding also means we get ourselves a nice prize and whatever she’s got in her holds. After so many days of watch, I think the men deserve some reward, eh?”

Azwan chuckled, but his apprehension was still clear. “That they do, sir. We’ll have to hope that her guns don’t turn on us in time.”

“Master Mursi will have his sharpshooters in the tops, and I’ll have men on the swivel guns to cover us as we get close. Of course, if you can have your guns give that bastard a good hammering once we’ve pulled alongside, it’ll make all our lives a little bit easier.”

That got a smirk from Azwan. “Aye, that I can do. We’ll have them shitting iron and powder by the time the day’s out, sir. We won’t let you down.”

Sjan-dehk replied with a toothy grin of his own. “I know you won’t.” They saluted each other and went their separate ways; Azwan climbing down an open hatch, and Sjan-dehk carrying on along the deck until he was by the helm, just forward of a short flight of steps leading up to the quarterdeck. Whatever fatigue and lethargy that had plagued his ship earlier had all but vanished. Sahm-tehn’s men chanted their cadence with vigour as they pulled hard on ropes connected to the lateen yards. Others shouted to one another from high above, untying and fully unfurling the Sada Kurau’s crimson sails. They billowed, catching the wind in an instant and pulling the ship into a sharp, lurching turn. Muskets and swords continued to be brought up in crates and buckets, along with pre-loaded charges from the powder hold for the swivel guns and chasers. Already, Sjan-dehk could see men with long carbines strapped to their backs climbing up the rigging to platforms near the tops of the masts.

A warm feeling bubbled in his chest. It always heartened him to see his crew performing their duties to the best of their abilities. He could hardly ask for more as their captain.

As the Sada Kurau cut its way through the fog, the sights and sounds of battle became more and more distinct until he could bear full witness to the battle raging between the mystery ship and the Sudah. Thick smoke hung in the air between both ships. Another deafening roar shook both sea and sky as the mystery ship opened fire, her entire hull rocking back from the recoil. Sjan-dehk quickly brought up his spyglass to observe the damage. Heavy shot and a scattering of shrapnel impacted the Sudah’s tall side. The latter merely scratched paint and chipped wood, but the former punched great jagged holes in the wood. She would hold for now, but not for long under such fire. Neither could she even fight back; close as the mystery ship was, the Sudah’s own deck cannons couldn’t depress enough to return fire. Puffs of musket fire and streaks of arrows were the only signs of resistance from her.

There was one saving grace, however. As expected, the mystery ship hadn’t expected to fight anyone other than the Sudah. She had her flat, unadorned stern exposed to every single gun on the Sada Kurau’s starboard side. Neither were most of her square sails set. Only the ones half-way up her masts were doing anything to help her keep pace with her lumbering prey. A stationary, unprotected target. Sjan-dehk could see sailors on her quarterdeck turn in panic as they saw his ship bear down on them. It must have been terrifying for them, he imagined, to see the Sada Kurau cutting through fog and water towards them, royal yellow banners streaming from masts and figureheads carved in the visages of vicious dragons.

Just above the waterline, he saw the mystery ship’s name at long last, painted in white with visibly haphazard strokes. Celestine.

Sjan-dehk brought the spyglass down and cocked his head slightly. That didn’t sound too unlike from the limited Caesonian words he knew. At least, that was if his memory served and the royal tutor had done his job properly. A plan began to form in his head. Perhaps there was a way for this Celestine to pay her debts to both the Sudah and Sada Kurau without spending the lives of her crew.

Well, before that, he had to humble her first. Give her some reason to stop fighting.

The Sada Kurau carried more than a few reasons. Fourteen of them, to be exact, and they opened fire one-by-one as the Celestine came into view of her gunners. The deck shuddered beneath Sjan-dehk’s feet with each shot. Armed with long guns meant for accurate and powerful fire from easily thrice this distance, he had no doubts that every shot found their mark. Loud cheers from the deck below told him that his crew were of the same mind, but their celebrations were cut short by Azwan shouting for them to hurry and reload.

For Sjan-dehk’s part, he didn’t bother with waiting for the gun smoke to clear to check the damage. There was no time, and besides, he would find out one way or another soon enough. “Helmsman, bring us hard to larboard!” He handed the spyglass to a passing crewman with a nod of thanks before pushing his way through the crowd back to amidships. “Master Sahm-tehn, slow us down and prepare to bring us to a halt once we’re alongside her.” The men must have gotten an inkling as to what he intended, as some were already arming themselves and standing by the larboard-side gunwale. “Bring boarding planks and hooks on deck! We’re going to steal ourselves a new ship, men!”

That brought a rancorous cheer rippling up and down the deck. Nothing excited his crew – himself included, for that matter – quite like the prospect of bringing the fight onto the enemy’s deck. In another life, they would have all made excellent pirates. A good thing, then, that they used their skills to hunt them in this one.

Sjan-dehk picked up a carbine. It was heavily scratched, with signs of recent tooling, and a strange hinged mechanism near the lock. All signs of Mursi’s personal experiments in his workshop far, far below decks in the hold. Well, now was as good a time as any to see if it was worth the trouble. Sjan-dehk knew how to operate it; he had insisted that the eccentric self-proclaimed inventor give the entire crew an overview of his project before allowing him to bring his tools to a few of the Sada Kurau’s precious firearms.

Whatever worries Azwan had about the Celestine’s crew turning her big guns to face the Sada Kurau proved to be unfounded. Even at just a glance, Sjan-dehk could tell that their earlier enfilade had torn through the length of the ship. At least one cannon laid in ruins, surrounded by debris and the writhing forms of the wounded. That was all he saw before Azwan ordered the guns to fire once more. This time, Sjan-dehk was close enough to hear the splintering of wood and screams of men through the ferocious roar of cannons. “Reel her in, don’t let them rest!”

Hooks were thrown across the gap between the two ships. Some missed their mark, but most landed with a clatter on the Celestine’s deck, finding purchase wherever they could. Any man that wasn’t working to haul in the Sada Kurau’s sails had by now joined Sjan-dehk at the gunwale with whatever ranged weapon they could get their hands on. Most had a musket or a pistol, but a fair number carried bows. It didn’t matter to him; so long as they could deal some damage on the enemy, all was well.

“Steady now,” Sjan-dehk called out over the loud chatter of his men. “She’s wounded but we haven’t got her yet. She’ll be fighting back hard, so prepare yourselves! Remember, there’s no shame in taking cover to reload, so none of that bullshit bravado, understood? If the man beside you is wounded, you take him below decks to the surgeon immediately! We’ve fought bigger bastards and with piss-poor odds without casualties before, so make damn sure none of you die today!”

The crew laughed and cheered, and those were quickly drowned out by the crack of muskets when the Celestine was pulled within range. Sjan-dehk took aim at the first target he vaguely saw through the mist and smoke, braced the wooden stock against his shoulder, and pulled the trigger. Without hesitation, he ducked beneath the gunwale. Musket balls cut through the air overhead. Unfortunately but not at all unexpectedly, some of his men caught them and went down with loud yells and shouts. Sjan-dehk ignored it; they would be taken care of, and for now he had to focus on reloading.

Mursi had done a splendid job with his tinkering. The mechanism raised a block which allowed him to reload without the need for a cumbersome, full-length ramrod. Sjan-dehk could see himself firing off two or three shots for every one by the Celestine’s crew. The few crewmen of his who had taken a similar weapon for themselves were already doing so, judging by the steady, rapid cracks echoing across the deck. Sjan-dehk made a mental note to properly reward his master-at-arms later, and perhaps with something a little extra for all the trouble he had made him go through just to get his materials. Slowly but surely, they were whittling down the Celestine’s crew with barrage after barrage of withering fire.

“Sir!” Azwan’s voice called out through the din of battle. He slid into cover beside Sjan-dehk, loaded and cocked pistols in either hand. “I have the gun crews armed and on deck. Boarding planks are already being pushed out from the bow and stern. They will be amidships in short order.”

“Well done!” Sjan-dehk gave his first officer a congratulatory smile as he peeked over the gunwale to take a shot. This felt almost unfair; the Celestine was hardly fighting back. Even as a duckboard was pushed from behind Sjan-dehk to bridge the narrow gap, they hardly did anything to stop it. Neither was their fire keeping up. If anything, it wasn’t as fierce as it was when this first began. Some of Sjan-dehk’s men had even foregone cover entirely, choosing to remain standing as they fired and reloaded. The enemy was beginning to break, he was sure of it, and so it was the perfect time for him to confirm something.

“All hands, prepare to cease fire!” He shouted and pulled out a dirty, white handkerchief from his pocket.

“Sir, what’re you doing?” Azwan hissed. “We have these bastards! Let’s just finish this now.”

Sjan-dehk looked at him with a mischievous smirk. “Oh, just asking for directions, and making sure that cunt of a tutor did his job right.” He draped the handkerchief over the muzzle of his carbine and lifted it over the gunwale, waving it about to catch the other side’s attention. “Truce,” he called out, repeating himself in his own native tongue for the benefit of his crew. It took a while, but eventually the guns stopped firing, and tense silence fell over the ships. “You do not want to die, yes?” Sjan-dehk continued, the foreign syllables and sounds falling awkwardly off his tongue. “I do not want to fight. Let us talk.”

“Then show yourself!”

Caesonian. Just like that, Sjan-dehk already had most of what he wanted out of this exchange. He could just retract his offer now and order his men to continue the onslaught, but it was always prudent to at least give diplomacy a try. A victory with minimal bloodshed was best, after all. Against his first officer’s protests, Sjan-dehk slowly stood up, resting the carbine on the deck and with both hands raised. The captain of the Celestine stood directly opposite him, across a duckboard linking their ships. Bearded, covered in soot and blood, and his clothes torn and ragged, he exuded tiredness but still carried himself with the confidence of his station. Behind him stood the remains of his crew.

“Here I am.” Sjan-dehk offered a friendly smile and gestured to his line of assembled men. They stood in closed ranks, hands gripping their weapons tight and eyes regarding their counterparts with suspicion and barely-concealed malice. “They will not fire unless I tell them. We can talk now, no?”

“State your terms,” the other captain said brusquely.

“You surrender,” Sjan-dehk replied matter-of-factly. “We take your ship and cargo. We bring you with us but we will not hurt you. You will guide us to Sorian. Once there, we hand you over to your lords. You face your own justice, not Viserjantan justice.” It was a terrible deal, one which he knew the other captain wouldn’t accept. Not even if his situation was truly dire. Sjan-dehk didn’t know a thing about Caesonia, but he doubted they would allow any pirate to keep their lives.

The captain of the Celestine did not disappoint. “Fuck off! Either you let us go or you finish this.”

“What? What’s he saying?” Azwan asked in a hushed voice. “Are they surrendering?”

Sjan-dehk didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he sighed and turned around, head bowed and hands on his hips, as if he were giving the other captain’s counter-offer serious thought. “No,” he said at last to Azwan and chewed on his lip. “Not yet, at least. They would rather die fighting. Commendable for damned pirates, I suppose.” With slow, deliberate movements, he curled his hand around the pistol on the left-side of his waist. Hidden from the other captain’s view, but in clear view of Azwan. “On my go.”

“I haven’t got all fucking day, if you-”

In one smooth action, Sjan-dehk drew the weapon, spun around, and shot the Celestine’s captain square in the chest. The man’s eyes bulged, and his words caught in his throat with a gurgle before he dropped like a sail that had lost its wind. His crew cried out in surprise, but that was as much reaction as they could manage before Azwan ordered the Sada Kurau’s men to open fire. A devastating fusilade felled many of their number and threw the rest into confusion.

Sjan-dehk casually returned the empty gun to its holster and drew the two on his lower back. “No time to waste, men! Our Gods and Ancestors are watching us, so let us not disappoint! If we must go to them today, we go with pride and honour! Sada Kurau, anjahntar!” With that, he sprinted across the board. The first two targets he saw, he shot them dead before dropping both pistols to draw his swords. His men followed close behind, some even swinging across on ropes, so eager were they to run the enemy down.

It was all a blur after that. Just a cacophony of clashing blades and gunshots; the stench of burnt powder and spilled blood. Sjan-dehk danced his way through the enemy, barely thinking as instinct alone guided him to parry and deflect, to stab and cut. Man after man fell before him, and he went from one victim to the next, until his clothes and armour were stained red and his blades dripping. What survivors there were of the Celestine’s crew retreated below decks, and Sjan-dehk’s men followed with riotous roars and jeering taunts. Only when they dropped their weapons and surrendered, and agreed to show the way to Sorian, did the slaughter finally stop.

A captured ship with her crew as prisoners, and the way to Sorian. All before the sun had even cleared the horizon. Sjan-dehk could think of worse ways to start a day.

Sjan-dehk didn’t quite know how to feel when he saw the city appear on the horizon. On the one hand, it was a sign that this overly-long journey was close to its end. For now, at least; they still had many other destinations to visit, but for the next few weeks at least, he was free from those intransgrient fools aboard the Sudah. For the most part. Sjan-dehk had plans to acquire local maps of the region; those would almost certainly be much better than the old and almost-hilariously wrong charts they had been using. No longer would that damned archivist be allowed to dictate matters of navigation. Not on Sjan-dehk’s watch, at least. Getting lost once was enough for this expedition.

On the other hand, this was arguably the true start of his ordeal. As much of a headache as it was to sail with the Sudah’s circus of gentlemen-playing-sailors, he still ultimately played the role he played best; the captain of the Sada Kurau. On land, he would have to be the fourth lesser marquis of Jafi. An utterly useless rank; he wasn’t so much on the ladder of peerage as he was the dirt which it rested upon. Out here, however, a useless rank was still a rank, and that meant he was the only one onboard either ship that was suited for mingling with the local nobility. Granted, he would likely be a mere observer, but even the notion of doing just was taxing on his mind.

“We will need materials for the Celestine, oak preferably–”

“I would worry less about the Celestine, master Hai-shuun. We have wounded who will need time ashore to recover. We should find a suitable place for them first and worry about the rest later.”

“Aye, we’ll just ask to borrow a whole damn hospital, easy as that, eh?”

“You talk as if we must all act in unison. We can surely do more than one thing at a time.”

Naturally, with him dreading his immediate future, the loyal senior staff of the Sada Kurau made sure to make themselves present to take their captain’s mind off of things. They all sat around a scuffed and stained table hauled up from the gundeck on the quarterdeck. Everyone was here; one-armed Sahm-tehn; dutiful Hai-shuun, their carpenter; jovial Avek, the chief steward and cook; their innovative master-at-arms, Mursi; their four-eyed surgeon, Dai-sehk; even youthful Sohn-dahn, the ship’s leading boy and in charge of the handful of pre-adolescents who plied their trade in the dark warrens of the Sada Kurau’s holds.

Only Azwan was missing, but he certainly made his presence felt. Sjan-dehk could hear him giving some visiting sailors from the Sudah a veritable tongue-lashing on the main deck. As for the rest of them, they were mostly discussing plans for when they were ashore. Sjan-dehk declined to participate. He didn’t need to make plans, they had been made for him long in advance.

“Will you be meeting any princesses?” Had that question been asked in any other voice aside from Sohn-dahn’s innocent tones, Sjan-dehk would have responded with dry contempt. The temptation to say something blithe was there, he wouldn’t lie, but as he glanced sideways at the freckle-faced eleven year-old, eyes filled with genuine wonder, he simply couldn’t bring himself to.

“Who knows? Curious to meet one, young master Sohn-dahn?” He asked with a grin.

The boy nodded. “Yes, sir. Never seen one before. Not in real life at least.”

Sjan-dehk reached across to ruffle the boy’s hair. “I’ll see what I can do, eh?”

A loud guffaw that could only come from Avek interrupted them. Sjan-dehk glowered at him across the table, but said nothing. Instead, he waited for the impressively bearded man to compose himself and say in a playful drawl, “Apologies, sir, but it’s not good to lie to the boy. Haven’t you told us before? Don’t promise something you can’t keep.”

“He’s not wrong, captain,” Hai-shuun added, nonchalantly scratching at a few freshly-healed scars on his squarish face with a heavily calloused hand. “With your rank, you’d be lucky just to meet her handmaidens. Maybe not even that. Serving ladies of their palace, perhaps?”

Sjan-dehk looked at each in turn with a stern look. He leaned back, his hands resting on the table. “You know, most captains wouldn’t allow the likes of you to speak to them that way.” He kept his face and voice as flat as possible, giving nothing away. “I could have the two of you flogged for impertinence.”

“Aye, you could do it, easy as that, but we all know you’re not most captains, captain,” Avek replied.

A series of nods and agreements went around the table, and Sjan-dehk felt a brief, mirthless chuckle escape his lips. No, he was definitely not most captains. Perhaps if he was, he wouldn’t dread the prospect of socialising with the local nobles. Prim, proper, and astute. That was what every officer should aspire to be. At home on the high seas but just as deft in manoeuvring a political storm. It was just unfortunate that Sjan-dehk proved to be overly-skilled in the former but woefully inadequate in the latter.

He folded his arms across his chest. “I could still have the two of you flogged, if it’ll make you feel better.”

“I welcome the suggestion,” came Sahm-tehn’s monotone. “I will happily provide the flogging, captain.”

“With that one arm of yours? It’ll be a bloody tickle, if anything!” Avek hollered and slapped a shovel-like hand on the table. Hai-shuun frowned and gripped the edge tight to stop it from shaking. “You might have more luck with that stump of yours, eh?”

At that, even Sjan-dehk had to indulge in a few laughs at his master of sail’s expense. It was all just playful teasing, he knew. Everyone – well, everyone from the Sada Kurau – around this table had all been with him for close to a decade now. They were like family to each other. Closer than some families, if he dared say so himself. “Careful, master Avek. Remember who is it that does the rigging on this ship. He’s got plenty of strength in the one arm that he’s got left.”

The sound of heavy boots against wooden steps heralded Azwan. He gave Sjan-dehk a salute before taking his seat opposite him. “The captain of the Sudah wants to speak to you, sir,” he said, nodding his thanks to Avek who handed him a tin cup of tea. “Says he wants to talk to you about your conduct during the last action. He’s not happy by the sound of things.”

“After we saved his sorry arse?” Musir asked incredulously.

Azwan shrugged. “It’s just what I’m told. I don’t understand it, either.”

Sjan-dehk scowled and ground his teeth together. Trust the captain of that troublesome ship to be able to find some obscure fault with his saviour. Perhaps Sjan-dehk should have let him suffer a little longer under the Celestine’s fire before sailing to his aid. “Well, if he won’t give me a good reason, you can tell him to take that fucking meeting of his and shove it up where–”

A long, tired sigh just to his right, accompanied by the clack of a brush being rested on the table cut him short and caught everyone’s attention. “There will be none of that, young marcher prince,” a wizened man dressed in opulent and intricately-embroidered robes said in a voice that sounded as if he had just about enough of everything in general. He picked up the sheet of paper he had been scribbling on and handed it to Sjan-dehk. “I have written down everything that you should say once you’re ashore. Ancestors forgive me for allowing one of my charges to read from a script, but this is better than you making things up on your own should you forget.”

“You already tell me how to dress. Now you want to tell me what to say?” Though Sjan-dehk wasn’t too happy with the notion, he took the sheet of paper anyway. He supposed he should consider himself fortunate that he wasn’t wearing the gaudy silk robes the old man would have wanted him to wear. Damp rot had claimed at some point in the journey, thank the Gods. Still, he was hardly wearing what he would have chosen. Instead of a simple yellow tunic, he wore one of royal saffron expertly stitched with sharp, angular patterns on his sleeves in bright red. His lamellar plate had been polished to a shine, and the red sash about his waist embroidered with the prancing Viserjantan dragon. Even the conical, straw-woven hat leaning against his chair was carefully painted with decorative pictographs.

The royal tutor shifted and looked Sjan-dehk up and down. “Court dress would have been better, but this parade wear suits you better, I’m beginning to think.” There was a hint of approval in his creaky voice, but it disappeared with his next words. “Need I remind you that our success today hinges on your bearing and your dress. I’m just happy I didn’t have to remind you to shave, even if you could have done a cleaner job of it.”

“Yes, and open my throat in the process,” Sjan-dehk said drily. Personally, he thought it was a great accomplishment that he had managed to make himself look as presentable as he was aboard a rolling ship. Clean-shaven, hair neatly combed and pulled back into a short tail, he felt he had already done far more than what should have been expected.

A stiff breeze washed over the deck, almost snatching the sheet of paper from Sjan-dehk’s grip. “Put it somewhere safe!” The royal tutor snapped. With a sigh, Sjan-dehk tucked it between his sash and armour on his back. “Good, now let us go over some things. When you reach shore and you are greeted by our gracious hosts, what should your first words be?”

This was the umpteenth time they had rehearsed his little speech, and Sjan-dehk was tempted to make a fool of the old man, but that would only prolong his suffering, and so he played along. “I will introduce myself, the High Queen, and the Commonwealth, all with full titles.” He paused and looked out across the waters at the city in the distance. “With respect, most knowledgeable one, it is just as likely that all I will find is an overworked harbour master with no time for formalities. Have you seen all those other ships in harbour? Looks like they’ve already got their hands full.”

“Beautiful ships, too.” Hai-shuun nodded sagaciously. “Damn finely built. Wonder if I’ll be able to take a look inside.”

“Excellent cruisers, I imagine,” Sjan-dehk concurred.

“Focus, focus,” The royal tutor said hurriedly. “Young marcher prince, you know better than I that they would have likely sighted the Sudah cresting the horizon hours ago. Even if not the king or some duke or some lesser noble, I expect they would send some official delegation to investigate us, if nothing else. You must be prepared for such a possibility. Now carry on. What next after the introductions?”

“I will apologise for the absence of lady Adiyan, explain that it is she who should be discussing trade, and that she’s still recovering from injuries sustained from the earlier battle.” Once again, Sjan-dehk stopped and changed the subject. “How is she, by the way?” Of all the dignitaries about the Sudah, the lady was probably the only one Sjan-dehk could tolerate, for no other reason other than that she was typically the only one who spoke in favour of Sjan-dehk’s suggestions. A shame the rest never did listen to her.

“The lady is as she was the last you saw her. She will be fine.”

Sjan-dehk blinked once, then leaned in closer to the old man. “Most knowledgeable one, the last I saw of her, her left leg was black as night below the knee and that was enough shrapnel in her side to fill a fucking canister shot for one of my guns. Either all is as was and she is bloody dying, or she’s fine. It can’t be both at once.”

The royal tutor let out a frustrated huff. “The physicians say they removed most, if not all, of the shrapnel, but they will have to remove her leg if she is to be fully out of danger. There, are you satisfied?”

Injuries severe as hers were always nasty affairs. Sjan-dehk hadn’t expected her to come out completely unscathed, but losing a leg in her first naval action? That was just poor luck. Still, it was a mark of her bravery; he had heard from rumours that she had helped to direct the defense of her ship from the main deck up until a shot from the Celestine’s swivel guns caught her in the side. That was a whole lot more than whatever the Sudah’s captain had been doing, as far as Sjan-dehk was concerned.

“Poor girl,” Avek said with a shake of his head. “To be crippled just like that.”

“Indeed,” Sahm-tehn deadpanned and turned to cast a cold look at the steward. “Certainly a tragedy for the ages.”

“Eh, I’d say losing a leg’s worse than an arm. At least you can move around easy as you like. She has to carry a bloody crutch around wherever she goes from now on.”

“Have you tried rigging sails with only an arm, master Avek?”

The royal tutor ignored the two of them and gestured for Sjan-dehk to do the same. “Well done, young marcher prince. You remember a lot more than I expected you to.” For the first time since they met, there was a thin smile gracing the old man’s face. “With regards to the Celestine…I understand that I said to offer it as a gift and a sign of our goodwill, but upon further thought, you were right. She doesn’t look like much as she is. Certainly not worthy of being presented, she’s more of a…”

“Shit heap,” Sjan-dehk provided, and that was already him being kind. Despite Hai-shuun’s best efforts and the excellent work of his crew to make the Celestine seaworthy, there was only so much they could have done without a proper harbour. Even finding that narrow strip of coast where they had careened her had taken some luck and a lot of threats – some carried out, others not – towards their prisoners. The entire stern had to be practically rebuilt, and they had used enough planks to patch up her hull that they could have built a whole new skiff. Anyone with functioning eyes would be able to tell that she was sailing on little more than hopes and prayers.

Of course, Sjan-dehk was also loath to simply hand over a ship that he and his crew and won as a prize in a fair fight, but he wasn’t about to tell the tutor that.

“Yes, in such…Crass words, yes.” The tutor cleared his throat. “But, nevertheless, offer it to them and if they accept, you must give it. If not, I suppose it will be yours. Regardless, remember to let the prisoners out of the brig and hand them over should you keep the ship. How many would you say you have?”

“Seventeen.”

“Yet some of them would say that they numbered twenty at first. What happened to the other three?”

“Died of wounds during the journey.”

The tutor nodded, but didn’t look pleased at all. Sjan-dehk was just happy he didn’t go off on his tirade again about how he shouldn’t have had three of them executed, but what was he to do? They had found some captives deep in the Celestine’s hold, living in absolute squalor. Through halting conversations in broken Caesonian, Sjan-dehk found out that he had some of their worst abusers in his custody. Naturally, he had to bring them to account. Most were simple bullies, but three were guilty of such sordid crimes that they couldn’t be allowed to live for a day longer. Sjan-dehk had sentenced them to keelhauling; thrown overboard with ropes tied around their ankles and dragged along the length of the Celestine’s hull. Two of them were lucky enough to drown. The Gods favoured the third and allowed him to live, and so instead Hai-shuun fashioned him a simple raft which they chained him to and dragged out to the open sea. He was given a day’s worth of food and water, and a loaded pistol, and left to drift. No matter what happened to him, no one could say that Sjan-dehk killed a man who enjoyed some form of divine protection.

“Let’s hope those seventeen will hold their tongues as you say they will,” the tutor said darkly.

Sjan-dehk waved his hand dismissively. “Master Musir knows how to silence a man as much as he knows how to make one talk. I trust that he did a thorough job. Besides, even if they talk and their lords ask me about it, I can simply provide my reasons. They will understand, I’m sure.”

The tutor fixed him with a serious look. “They might, and I doubt there’s a lord alive who would suffer a pirate to live, but that is not the point, young marcher prince. The point is that you have undermined their authority by meting out punishment to their people. It was not your place to judge and it was certainly not your place to execute them.” He looked away and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then sighed. “Well, there's nothing we can do about it now. We can only hope that if it comes to it, things will go as you say.”

Well, even if they didn’t, Sjan-dehk felt certain he could find a way out of it. He had been in worse situations before, albeit they had all been ones he could either shoot or stab his way out of.

“We have dawdled long enough,” the tutor said with finality. “You should be off. I have to give the same damn speech to your officers lest they piss away your efforts.” It took him a moment, and Sjan-dehk’s knowing smirk likely helped, but eventually the old man realised what he had just said. His face paled and his look of utter shock was one to be remembered. Quiet sniggers from everyone else at the table told him that he couldn’t even pretend that it had just been a figment of their imaginations.

Sjan-dehk stood up and patted the old man on the shoulder. “You’re one of us now, most knowledgeable one. The Sada Kurau welcomes you aboard.” He picked up the ornate leather belts piled in a head on the floor and threw them over his body. It made him feel exposed to be so lightly-armed, with only two pistols by his waist and a single sword on his hip, but the tutor had insisted that if he had to be armed, he had to look like a refined swashbuckler and not a bellicose corsair. “Alright, until I get back, or until you hear from me, Azwan’s in charge, understood? Keep the men busy and out of trouble.”

Once he had his officers’ acknowledgements, he carefully placed his hat atop his head and walked down to the main deck. From there, he climbed a rope ladder over the side onto the sail-rigged launch that had brought the tutor to his ship earlier. The fleet had anchored a respectable distance away from the city to avoid causing too much alarm. Certainly too far away to make taking the Sada Kurau’s own rowboats a smart decision. Even with the sails, Sjan-dehk doubted they would be at harbour within the half-hour. Not with these unfavourable winds, at least.

“Let us be off,” he said to the launch’s small crew. They saluted smartly and quickly got to work pushing the small boat away from the Sada Kurau and setting her sails. Sjan-dehk took his seat at the stern, right next to the tiller. Apprehension was already beginning to seep into his heart, but he forced it down and tried to focus on steering the boat. There was no point worrying about things now, anyway. Only when he stepped ashore would he need to start worrying.

Or, as he hoped, he’d find neither noble nor delegation, and merely an overworked harbour master.