Young Writers Society

On the coast of Skirys lies an island empire of multiple Pirate Guilds haphazardly held together by a shaky alliance. An unspoken treaty keeps Skirys wealthy and the waters free for the Pirate Guilds to do their bidding without anyone nosing in or causing problems. And it has been that way for years. It was a good deal for everyone involved.

That was until recently. There have been troubles in the waters that have come to a head when a meeting was called by the Alliance Leader. For many guild leaders, this meeting marks the beginning of a potential war, or the end of the Pirate Alliance as we know it.

However, when the meeting is sabotaged by some unknown figure and the Alliance Leader is captured or killed, our characters are framed as the scapegoats and must chase the true culprits that threaten to destroy the pirate's way of life forever.

• Rodrin - Omni - Captain/Chef/Navigator
• Callista - SilverNight - First Mate/Master Gunner
• Lisa - AceassinoftheMoon - Quartermaster
• Aurea - Corvid - Doctor
• Meridian - SoullessGinger - Cartographer

The letter arrived three days ago.

Everywhere Rodrin asked, they had heard of the news through some way, either from receiving a letter themselves, reading it from a friend, or hearing some version of it through the local gossip. Rumors: the one thing that spread faster than the oceanic winds.

Through the trenches of Snakehole Inn to the cobwebs of Varkin Hold, through the Endless Straight and even in the high hills of Guild Nomad, they had all heard the news: Furia had called all Guilds to Virakis Hall. The ancient citadel built within a volcano is about to get a lot less empty.

There had only been one other time all Guilds had been called home, and that was before even Rodrin's time. It was when Baron Kirvankis had publicly denounced Baronness Guilless and pronounced that she was attempting to sieze Virakis' throne. That meeting alone had caused the pirate alliance at the time to completely collapse and break down into civil war. It was a short lasting war, which broke into an uneasy peace when Guilless had stepped away from the pirate code and her old Guild had broken from the Guild Alliance. Those from her old Guild who didn't disappear into Skirys or become slaves of another Guild were publicly executed for their leader's supposed treachery.

Even to this day, Guild Forsaken bears those scars.

As soon as he had received the letter --by carrior pigeon, which he was confused as to who even did those these days, magic was far superior-- he had booked the first ship to Dovos, the island of Guild Forsaken. It was a harsh little thing, full of crimson cliffs overlooking glass beaches, and it was considered all but inhabitable until recently, when Forsaken took it over. It was far West of Virakis Hall, to the distant reaches of No Man's Land. Even pirates rarely sailed over there, and Skirys definitely didn't dare to touch it. That rough little patch of land was how Guilless --and Guild Forsaken-- was able to stage her comeback.

Rodrin hadn't seen Guilless in almost a year at this point. When the letter arrived, his worry over her safety sky-rocketed. After all, she was the reason the first All-hands-on-deck meeting happened. It stood to reason she might be the reason for this one.

The dainty ship he was able to find passage to bobbed under the ever watchful eye of the moon that shone across the calm waters. As it crossed the narrow strait and the crimson cliffs came into view, Rodrin fished out his lens and searched the cliffside. Underneath the dim light of one of the domed roofs in the Forsaken guildhall was the flowing white hair of Baronness Guilless, shining even paler under the moon's glow. She stood stoicly against the night sea-breeze, but from his perspective she seemed small, battered down. She seemed like she knew what was going on.

He prayed to the Gods she did, because he didn't want to get to Virakis Hall unprepared. Some habits die hard.

Wordcount: 510/2500

The docks of Cantiens were quiet tonight. The isolated island that Guild Rogue had made their own was wrapped in fog that blocked out the moon tonight and gave the lanterns swinging from the lampposts a luminous blur. The waters were dark, the tide was low, and in the midst of it all there was Callista, having a bad night.

"So, do you need me or not? Just answer me already."

The man she'd been conferring with shrugged, tossing a golden coin of Skirys from hand to hand. She hoped that he would accidentally drop it off the dock. "The captain's not sure about how things are looking right now. We were going to hire you, but... yeah. A lot of uncertainty in the air these last few days." He paused his tossing to hold up a hand in apology. "So you're on standby for a little longer."

Callista scowled. "I've been waiting for a week. I could be on the other side of the archipelago by now with a different ship instead of hanging around for you to make up your mind."

He sighed. "That's too bad. But would you really want to be part of a contract made just before what's probably going to be a change across all guilds?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's all being hyped up, Avrir, and I'd like to be employed."

She saw the shift in his demeanor, from indifferent to a bit uneasy, as Avrir took a small step back and rubbed his hand over his bald head. "Well... you've gotten a letter, right?"

Callista paused, taking a moment to answer. She had, just a few days ago, and it was all anyone could talk about-- who was going to the meeting, what it was about, what it meant for them all. "Obviously, but why is that any of your business?"

"So whatever it is, it probably concerns you," Avrir said. "It concerns a whole lot of people. And right now, we don't want to hire any crew that we're not certain things will be the same for."

Callista let out a grunt. "Didn't know you were the type to be dramatic."

Across the harbor, a light started glowing on the edge of another dock, making the rippling waves gleam. It was someone using their Affinity to lead a ship out in the waters to the right pier. People with this Affinity were valuable in Guild Rogue. Cantiens was a volcanic island, surrounded by mist that was some times so thick that even the crater couldn't be seen from afar. It was easy to get lost sailing, which was why Guild Rogue kept their ports well-lit. Callista watched the approaching ship out of the corner of her eye as Avrir kept talking.

"You know, you could try your luck elsewhere," he said, flipping the coin, catching it, and then repeating. "Plenty of people are looking for someone to run the gunners. You're... Well, you're too aggressive and rash in my opinion, but the captain wants that, so I guess that's why you're the best pick."

Callista was side-eyeing him hard now, and he coughed nervously.

"Anyway. Never mind my opinion."

"Would it have killed you to inform me not to waste my time on you?"

Avrir held up his hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't see this coming. Besides, we'll find out once the Alliance Meeting is over."

She growled, feeling like clenching her fists. They're going to find you in the harbor. But despite her temptation to shove him off the edge of the dock, she instead uncapped the bottle at her side and took a small sip, grimacing.

"Drinking isn't allowed on this pier."

"It's not alcohol," Callista snapped at him, shooting him a death glare as she put the cap on again and reattached it to her belt.

"Fine, whatever." He waved her away, eager to get out of there. "We'll talk again after that meeting, if you still want to try."

She didn't bother saying goodbye as Avrir turned around and walked away, continuing to toss the coin from hand to hand. She focused on the rhythm of the toss, how it could get thrown off if he saw and believed that the coin had made it to his other palm just a little bit early, felt the weight of the gold in his grip, and then continued his catching and throwing. It would take a few minutes for him to realize his senses had fooled him and he'd been juggling air ever since he left.

And although Callista had made sure he wouldn't hear it, the coin made a clinking sound as it fell to the wooden boards of the dock, rolling right to her feet.

Wordcount: 1302/2500

The tavern was small and cramped and dirty, not usually the kind of place you’d expect to find a woman dressed in vibrant colours with a fair amount of flashing gemstones decorating her skin, and yet here Lisa was, surrounded by rough-and-tumble pirates, all of them intently staring at the three bone cubes rolling across the table.

They were weighted, of course, to give the result Lisa wanted – what kind of idiot would she be if she didn’t shift the odds in her favour like this? – but the men and women crowding her small, splintery table didn’t know that, and so when the dice landed on a full set of ones, they all groaned with disappointment.

“Oh, bad luck!” Lisa said cheerfully, sweeping the stack of gold in front of her into her leather pouch- and, at the same time, retrieving her dice to replace them with a regular set. “Sorry, Simran.”

The large man in front of her shrugged resignedly. “Aye, well, at least I didn’t bet as much as last night.”

“The missus wouldn’t let him!” a pirate shouted from in the crowd, and the entire group laughed as Simran went red.

“Anyone else want to give it a go?” Lisa offered. “See if your luck holds out better than our friend here?”

“I’ll go!” the same pirate from before called. She shouldered her way to the front of the crowd and switched places with Simran, who stepped back to watch the game.

“Alright,” Lisa said, rolling the dice across the table to the newcomer. “What’s your name, friend, and more importantly, how deep are your pockets?”

“Azalea, and deep enough,” the woman replied to another round of laughter.

“Then place your bet,” Lisa said, grinning. “Remember, the more you bet, the more you could win-”

“And the more you stand to win if things don’t work out, yeah?” Azalea interrupted.

“That too,” Lisa admitted. “So bet high. I’ve promised a few of the lovely fellows here a drink tonight and I’d hate to disappoint.”

“Aye!” the watching group cheered. Azalea rolled her eyes, then dumped a fistful of gold on the table. “There you go. Twenty gold.”

“Twenty!” Lisa repeated cheerfully. “You have quite the faith in your luck, darling.” She flipped her hand over, revealing her own single die, then tipped it onto the table. “A five is the number to match!” she announced, leaning forward. “Roll the devil’s dice and pray to whatever deities you worship, then!”

To a chorus of whispers as the pirates made their own bets on what Azalea would roll – who even did that? Betting on betting games? Lisa would never understand marks like that – Azalea scooped up the three dice in front of her and with a practiced flick of her wrist, rolled the cubes.

“Six, two… and five,” she said self-satisfiedly. “I’ll take my money now, if you don’t mind.” The pirates cheered again as Lisa made an overdramatic production of reluctantly counting the twenty she now owed Azalea out of her pouch and adding it to the twenty gold on the table, then pushing the entire pile across to Azalea.

"Your luck is better than mine, it seems," she lamented. "Care to try again and see if that changes?"

Azalea hesitated, and the pirates around her began urging her on, desperate for another show.

"Oh, alright then," she relented. She picked twenty out of her gold pile, then slid the rest back into the centre of the table. "Another twenty."

Lisa grinned and rolled her dice.

She managed to play Azalea for another half-hour, expertly swapping the dice out for her weighted ones every now and then to make sure no matter how much Azalea won, Lisa would come out on top. Finally, Azalea got up with her winnings, and Lisa swept her dice into her pocket.

"Show's over," she announced to the dismay of the crowd. "If I don't stop now, soon you'll all be richer than me, and we can't have that now, can we?"

Reluctantly, the crowd dispersed, every pirate drifting back to their own table or, in some cases, back to their own ships. A few pirates -- the ones Lisa had promised drinks -- hung around for their promised alcohol, but soon she was alone at her table.

As she counted her dice and her gold, preparing to leave for the night, the chair across from her scraped the floor. She glanced up to see Azalea once more settled in the chair.

"Come back to try and win more, darling?" Lisa teased. "Sorry, business is closed for the night."

"Nice trick with the dice," Azalea replied. "I didn't notice the first few times, but you slipped the fifth time."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lisa replied breezily. "If you don't mind, I really do have to go-"

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone," Azalea said. "I've got my own weighted dice for situations like this. I'm impressed you were able to pull it off so easily, and that with all the people watching, I was the only one who noticed. And I wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t dropped one of the dice, either; they’re weighted perfectly."

“Well, thank you,” Lisa said modestly. “I did them myself.”

“No kidding! How much would it cost for you to make me a set?”

“More than you were betting tonight, darling.” Lisa winked at her.

Azalea shook her head. “Well, tough luck for me then.” She leaned forward. “What did you say your name was?”

“Lisa.”

“Lisa…?”

“Mercier.”

She sat back. “I thought so. I’ve heard of you.”

“I’m famous, am I?” Lisa responded, sitting back as well. “Didn’t realize people talked that much about a simple gambler.”

“Well, you are tricking everyone in here out of their gold and you play a fun game, so yeah, people talk. But I’ve heard of you as the pirate without a ship.”

“That is a terrible nickname. I may need to hunt down whoever thought of it.”
“Then it’s true? You’re the pirate who keeps jumping ship and signing onto new crews seemingly without reason?”

“I have my reasons, but yes, you’re otherwise correct.”

“And you aren’t currently signed to anyone?”

“Are you about to make me an offer?”

Azalea hesitated. “We’ve been looking for a new crewmate, yeah,” she said finally. “I don’t know what the cap’n would think- he’d probably prefer that we had someone a little more permanent, but word has it you’re good at what you do while you’re around.”

“You flatter me, darling.” Lisa let her gaze go thoughtfully blank, although she knew what her answer would be. “Listen. You’ve heard the Alliance Leader called a meeting, right? Well, I need a ride there, and I think that’d be the perfect opportunity for the crew to get used to me. I might even decide to stay, hm? So, you take me along, I’ll do my thing, and we’ll see how it goes.”

“... I’ll talk to the cap’n,” Azalea said finally. “But I think that’d be acceptable.”

“I’ll work out any further terms with him,” Lisa finished. “Now, I really, really should be going. Farewell, darling, and if everything goes right, I’ll be sailing with you soon.” She got to her feet, retrieving her cane from its position resting against her chair, and, with a practiced fake limp, was halfway across the room before Azalea turned and called after her.

“Wait! How will we contact you again?”

“I’ll find you, darling, don’t worry!” Lisa assured her. Azalea didn’t look assured in the slightest, but by then, Lisa was gone.

Wordcount: 2575/2500

Meridian placed his hands flat on the cold marble of the balcony, hoping to stifle any nervous twitching. It had been a long time since the Lady had called upon him. The fact that he knew exactly what she wanted him for didn’t serve to ease his anxiety.

At least the view was distracting. Tonight the island of Guild Prometheus seemed to glow with life, the gentle sounds of laughter and merriment floating through the warm night air. Sprawling gardens and exquisite architecture gave the land the look of magic- to match the whimsical affinities of its inhabitants. To an outsider, this island was the paradise of the Lawless Land, beckoning the weary buccaneer in for a night of entertainment, camaraderie and pleasure. But when morning came, and the sun burned away the lovely fantasy, a traveler may find they had lost all their secrets and most of their gold.

Of course, as it is with all cities, there are pockets of real life; places where guild members exchanged the word family and meant it, where one could extract the knowledge required more efficiently and with less hearsay, where Meridian would even call home.

He cast his eyes longingly to the far side of the island, where his friends would be waiting for tonight’s batch of mysteries.

“The little birds are busy tonight, Ghost.” That familiar velvet voice seemed to curl along the back of his neck, setting Meri on edge.

Meridian glanced at the queenly figure who appeared beside him. Perfectly coiffed curls fell around her face, lending her a gentle nobility rarely found in pirates. Helena’s dark eyes glimmered in the moonlight, cool as the black sea lapping upon the shores of Elbrus.

“News from the Guildhall stirred their nests, milady.”

A grim chuckle escaped her rosebud lips, “Yes, Furia does enjoy rustling feathers.” She leaned against the balcony, clasping her hands together and breathing in the fragrance from the garden beneath them. “Tell me, what do you think of this summons from the Guildhall? I don’t believe you’ve visited before.”

Meridian dipped his head in assent, “No, it will be my first time on Virakis.” Meridian stopped himself from elaborating further, hoping to avoid her direct reference to his own role.

“It seems your particular skill set will be needed at the meeting.” Helena’s voice took on a hint of sharpness. Tread carefully.

“Yes… I’m eager to see what puzzle evaded the Guildhall’s greatest minds.”

“Mmm. I know it will prove no great challenge to you. And I’m sure you’ll explain it to me, should the meaning escape me.” She lingered on ‘escape’, cold eyes searching him for weakness.

Ah. So she wants me to give her the upper hand. Clearly whatever it is the Guildhall needs me to analyze is of great interest to this snake. She needs something from me.

He smiled coyly, all traces of nervousness leaving his body, “Of course, milady. Anything you ask.”

She nodded, eyes softening a little, before speaking, “I suppose you had best be on your way, then. I’m sure tonight you’ll have your hands full.”

Meridian breathed in, allowing the tension in his shoulders to dissipate. “A moment more, milady. Yours is the best view, and I would be loath to leave without enjoying it to its fullest extent,” Meridian tilted his head to see her reaction more clearly. Damn her and her masquerade meetings. I could see more than five feet in front of me if she’d only do away with the masks. It wasn’t like Meridian’s identity was a secret, not to Helena Vacatello, the conniving head of Guild Prometheus. She was infamous in the Lawless Land for a ruthlessness that rivaled her beauty- Helena was a true pirate, despite her outward impression.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“Very well, my friend. Drink your fill of the night, and be on your way.” She turned and left the balcony, heels gently clicking against the marble floor.

“Oh, and Meri?”

“Yes, milady?” He peered through the opaque curtains to meet her eyes, struggling to hide his displeasure with the nickname.

“Don’t be so scarce this time.” A knowing smile spread across Helena’s face, “One might think you wish to avoid me.” She slipped into her chambers, the train of her velvet gown rustling softly. Meridian shivered, the sight reminding him of a panther retreating into the darkness of the jungle. With any luck, that would be the last she ever saw of him. But the Lady had her ways, and Meridian wasn’t a big enough fool to ignore a direct summons from her.

As much as he hated it, Helena was right; tonight would be busy indeed. The flurry of activity from the Guildhall meant the Ghost would have many secrets to collect. Heaving a great sigh of relief to be leaving the airs and eggshells of the Vacatello Estate behind him, Meridian leaped over the balcony and down into the garden to begin his work.

The door to the operating room swung open. It smacked against the wall with a loud thwack. This would have been standard procedure -the door was well oiled, and the doorstop on the wall was very much worn down- if not for the fact that the room was in use, and that its occupants were not expecting any visitors.

“I- doctor, er, Aurea. Can we talk?”

“I’m a little busy at the moment.” Aurea said. She handed the scalpel she’d been holding off to the trainee assisting her, and set about the next step in the operation.

No reply.

“I said I was busy,” Aurea repeated, louder this time, when it became clear the intruder hadn’t left. “I said-” Aurea snapped and turned her head, only to be met with the sight of a young man with bright red hair.

Ah. That would be the guild leader’s messenger.
The more official one, at least.

“The- Sorry” The messenger stammered for a moment. He cleared his throat before he managed to continue. “The guild leader’s asking for you.”

“I need a sterile environment, Laurence.” Aurea said, addressing the man by name. “I’m operating. Can’t this wait?”

“She said it’s urgent.”

Alright. That would be a no, then.

Aurea frowned. This was not a good time. She looked over at Laurence once more, and was begrudgingly glad to see that he’d at least had the sense to put on gloves and a surgical mask.

“Alright,” Aurea said. They took a deep breath. Inhaled, exhaled. Reminded themselves that this is just his job, It’s not his fault the guild leader’s a pain.

“Lucky for both of us, I was about to finish up.” Aurea said. They paused. “How much time can you buy me?””

Silence.

Oh jeez. Aurea hoped that he wasn't squeamish.

“Laurence?”

“Er-” Laurence, very much squeamish, glanced at the clock on the wall. He resolutely did not look at the operation in front of him. “Fifteen minutes? I can try to swing for more, but...”

Aurea took another deep breath. It wouldn’t look good for either of them if she kept the guild leader waiting, but it wasn’t as if she could leave her patient like this. She still had to close everything up. And disinfect. And bandage the wound. And-

Focus. You can’t risk panicking now.

Aurea shook her head, cleared her thoughts, and turned to the trainee who’d been assisting them with the procedure. “Is our equipment all accounted for?” They asked. “Sponges? Gauze? Needles?”

“Yep. Everything’s out and accounted for.”

Aurea allowed herself a small sigh of relief. They thanked the trainee quietly, then addressed Laurence. “I can be there in fifteen. But I’ll need twenty, if she wants me to be presentable.”

“Twenty?” Laurence sucked in a breath. “Alright. We’ll make it work.” Calling over his shoulder, he turned to leave. “Sorry, again.”

“I know.” Aurea said. “Just-” She heard the door shut and promptly cut herself off. “Ugh. I guess it’s too last to ask for him to knock next time.”

wordcount: 3925/2500

There was no telling where the sea ended and the sky began. The inky blackness stretched far into the horizon, stars reflected in rippling water and shivering sky alike. The ship creaked occasionally, worn and soaked wooden boards scraping against each other as the waves glided by and they sailed deeper into the night.

Waves and wood and the call of the abyss, the song of the deep sea, calling any sailor who dared look into it for too long, lengths of shadows reaching up to pull you to a watery grave…

“It’s the kinda night that makes you want to tell ghost stories, isn’t it?”

Azalea clapped a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream as she whipped around to face Lisa.

“Holy- You can’t sneak up on a person like that!” she hissed.

“Sorry,” Lisa said with an apologetic shrug. “Didn’t realize you were that lost in your thoughts.”

“I didn’t hear you at all,” Azalea breathed. “God. You can’t- you can’t do that.”

Lisa tapped her cane against the deck. “Again. Sorry. Dunno how you missed this, though.”

Azalea exhaled slowly and turned back to look at the sea. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Lisa explained simply. “You?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Azalea replied in the exact same tone. “It’s always hard the first night at sea. Not used to my bed moving under me, I suppose.”

Lisa made a sympathetic noise and moved to join her at the railing, staring out at the water.

“What were you saying about ghost stories?” Azalea asked curiously.

“Ah, nothing. Don’t want to scare you further.”

“Come on, you can’t leave me hanging now that I’m curious!” Azalea turned so she was leaning on the railing with one arm and facing Lisa. “Don’t make me regret convincing the cap’n to let you on board.”

Lisa laughed. “Well, now that you’re threatening me…” She glanced at Azalea. “Do you know wandering spirits?”

“Everyone’s heard of wandering spirits,” Azalea said, sounding slightly disappointed.

“That’s not what I asked.” Lisa lowered her voice. “Do you know wandering spirits?”

“Like, have I met one? No.”

“I have.”

Instantly, she had Azalea’s full attention.

“Are they really like the stories? They really do steal a person’s identity and pretend to be one of the living?”

Lisa nodded. “They seem as real and living as you or me. Interact with things the same way, feel the same, talk the same… until you catch them slip. Pass through a wall or door, or start glowing in the dark, things like that.”

“And you… survived meeting one?”

“You sound as if you think it’s hard.”

“Well… not many people have, right?”

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “That they know of.” She absently tapped her cane on the deck again, a steady beat to match the singing of the waves. “They aren’t malicious, either.”

“My grandmother would say otherwise. She swears to have met one, and as soon as she found out what it was, it tried to kill her. Claims the places it touched her are still cold.”

“Then she must’ve angered it,” Lisa replied. “Wandering spirits aren’t malicious, for the most part. They’re confused. Wouldn’t you be too, if you were dead and didn’t know how or why? If you didn’t know your name, or your age, or what you’re doing here, or anything about yourself?”

Azalea didn’t look convinced.

“You wake up, all alone, and you don’t know who you are,” Lisa said softly. “So you take a name for yourself - steal it from someone in a tavern, perhaps - and forge a history, and you try to remember who you are. What you’ve done. How you came to be here. And rumours spread about your kind, and everyone shuns you, and you realize that there’s no place for you among the living, and yet you’re driven by the need to be among them, to pretend you’re still one of them… is it any wonder that some of them turn bitter?”

“You sound like you’re one of them,” Azalea said, a little hesitantly.

“Oh, goodness no,” Lisa replied immediately, voice rising to her usual volume. “I’m not dead yet, despite the efforts of many others to the contrary.”

“I didn’t mean to accuse you,” Azalea reassured her hurriedly. “I didn’t actually think-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lisa cut her off. “I know how I sound. I’ve been personally acquainted with more than a few wandering spirits, and so a bit of them leaks through into my storytelling.”

Azalea was quiet as she watched the sea for a few minutes.

“That wasn’t a proper ghost story,” she said finally. “Ghost stories are supposed to make you scared, not sad.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me try again.” She cleared her throat. “Wandering spirits are terrible things that sneak onto ships and steal your life, then pretend to be you while the real you suffers horribly from having your entire soul sucked out.”

She lowered her voice dramatically. “You never meet the good ones, and you don’t survive the bad ones, honestly. I got lucky. Most people don’t.

“The only way to survive a wandering spirit is to get to it before it gets to you. Once you’ve found one, the only thing to do is kill it. Trap it in a circle of salt and burn sage in the room, which will force it to reveal its true nature, then take its stolen name, write it down, and burn it. That’ll banish the spirit, and you’ll be safe.”

“How do you detect one?” Azalea breathed.

“Like I said, you can catch them slip and pass through a solid object. Unburnt sage will reveal their true nature, but only for a moment, so you have to have a keen eye to use that. And they’re always freezing cold, so they’ll avoid human contact.”

She lowered her voice further. “I used to hunt them. For a while, that’s why I jumped ship so often. Looking for more spirits to banish. I’d spend months observing a crew, searching for the slightest hint that one of these monsters might be on board. If there was, I’d set my trap, and I’d wait. And here I am, so you can guess that I was fairly successful.

“I still watch for them. I have to. After I’ve banished so many of their own… they’re coming for me. I have to watch every moment of every day, otherwise one of them might…”

She slammed her cane down on the deck with a resounding crack and this time, Azalea did scream.

“... get me,” Lisa finished, a large grin spreading across her face. “Just like I got you there.”

Azalea’s breathing was light and shallow. “I really regret convincing the cap’n to let you on board.”

“Hey, you asked for this,” Lisa said, pushing herself off the railing and upright once more. “You wanted me to keep going.”

Azalea’s reply involved only her middle finger. Lisa laughed. “Eloquent, aren’t you. Well, I know when I’m not wanted, so I’ll be going then-”

“Which one is true?” Azalea interrupted.

“Hmm?”

“You told me two versions. Nice wandering spirits that you were friends with, and bad ones that you hunted. Which one’s true? What are the spirits really like?”

Lisa winked. “Why don’t you go find one and ask?”

Wordcount: 1228/2500

The small ship was unable to dock on the port, as it was a small port and was already occupied by several larger ships as they prepared to trek to Virakis Hold. It seemed that Guilless had already called everyone back to the island. Rodrin wondered if he had missed some other letter from her, or if he missed some important meeting. He was always out of touch with current political going-ons, but he had always found a way to get the information without having to directly interact with Guilless and her political endeavors. He had made a deal with her long ago to stay out of the nitty gritty, and in return he would be stationed at Virakis to gather intel while he was a cook there. All in all, it worked for him. He got to have a boring life that allowed him to not think for the exchange of a few secrets overheard from chatty waitstaff.

The moment he received the letter, though, he knew he had to get out of there. Spies were a part of the trade naturally in that almost all Guilds had them in Virakis, and they were almost as plentiful as actual representatives, but once something like this meeting breaks out, the cracks begin to fall through and suddenly you didn't know who you could trust. Rodrin wondered if they were cleaning out while he was sailing back.

The small ship Rodrin was on offered an even smaller lifeboat for him to swim ashore. He declined, of course, instead using his Affinity to shift onto the dock. He stepped through the Sands to the pier of Isla Forsaken. The wood sloshed against his sudden weight.

Piryanka. The island no one wanted, fit to be the perfect home for the pirates no one wanted. Now called Isla Forsaken. For the past several years, Rodrin called it home. He stepped forward, his boots clacking against the worn wood. Seagulls cried out above him, and the smell of sea salt mixed with the more natural earth salts on the glass beaches of the island to sharpen the air and burn the insides of his nostrils everytime he inhaled. It smelled of earth, more than any other place he had been to. It would be the first thing visitors to the island complained about, without fail.

The second thing they would complain about was usually the food. As Rodrin climbed the rickety stairs that scaled the cliffs, he thought about the food on Isla Forsaken. As a cook, and a darned good one if he said so, the food from the island was always a bit rough for him. He was used to the fatty whale meat that came to Virakis Hall each season, where he would freeze large amounts over the winter to cook for the rest of the year. It made decent meat, but it made much better fat that enhanced the rest of the food selection. At Isla Forsaken, sharp and rocky shores made it difficult to launch fishing ships, and stubborn land made the normal crops from Skirys all but impossible to grow. So they had to rely on a diet of bitter roots and herbs from the northern islands and the occasional animal. The whale meat from Virakis was seen as a bit of a delicacy here. The food was among the many things that hardened the people who had made this place their home. Over the generation since Guilless founded this place, they had managed to make it a sustainable little civilization, and there were even some people who lived here for most of their lives, made families here, and would die here.

That life wasn't for Rodrin. Even if he wasn't a pirate anymore, he couldn't imagine settling down in one place, let alone making a family. He hadn't even given it a thought until he was stationed at Virakis Hold. He had helped build Isla Forsaken to the city it was now, but he still didn't consider it his home.

Once he reached the top of the cliffs, Isla Forsaken revealed its true glory to Rodrin. It had been months since he was last here, and the town had grown substantially in his absense. Much of the town rested on a hill, so he was able to see just how many new domed crimson roofs had popped up since he was last here.

He made his way along the cobbled path, avoiding the glances of worried citizens. Everyone knew everyone here, and everyone knew if Rodrin appeared, it meant serious business. And Rodrin didn't have the time nor the energy to speak to any of them.

He reached a larger building that hung off the cliff, overlooking the crimson cliffs and the main port of Isla Forsaken. It was an impressive building that took the craftmanship of several master craftsmen and several years to create. It was built to last, to withstand the harsh environment it was built in, but it represented Guild Forsaken. It would not be destroyed easily, nor would its people.

Rodrin stepped onto the threshold of the building, and immediately he heard movement.

"Rodrin."

"Guilless."

How much did a Skirys gold coin go for these days? Four glasses at the tavern, or one decent pair of leather boots, or three dozen bullets. Callista considered all the possible transactions as she stood in the middle of the market, other pirates making their way around her. Unlike Avrir, she knew better than to juggle the money around. At least the coin was a small gain for her lost time that she could have been getting paid for.

Stupid Avrir and his stupid captain and his stupid ship with no decision-making skills. Maybe she could spend the money on a cannonball and try to sink them instead.

Even though the temptation was strong and cannonballs were selling at a very good rate in a nearby stall— one for two silver coins, which amounted to half a gold one— logic and the voice in her head telling her she needed that job won over, and she kept walking. She had one of her two swords on her today, a heavy broadsword that she'd owned for longer than the rapier she used more often nowadays, and it needed polishing. Maybe that was a better way to spend that extra money.

It was six in the morning, which wasn't generally the typical time for a market to be running, but it was completely normal for Guild Rogue. The early summer dawn was barely able to be seen through the mist surrounding Cantiens, and even at noon, the sun's glow was considerably dimmed. As such, everyone's circadian rhythm was a bit thrown off, and the day-night cycle lost some of its importance. It wasn't all that rare to see a shop open at three in the morning and then have its doors closed at three in the afternoon.

Callista made her way through the crowd, past stalls of merchants shouting about their prices, and stopped at one with gleaming swords on display. The owner was already at work on a dagger, polishing the blade to give it a bright shine. "I'll be right with you," he said, glancing up just long enough to see her there.

She shrugged in response, glancing at the crowd behind her. It wasn't like she had anything else to do, besides counting down the time to the guild meeting and wanting to grab Avrir's captain by the collar and tell him to make up his mind.

After a minute or so, the merchant set down the dagger, which was now as reflective as a mirror. "What can I do for you?"

"I need this sword polished," Callista said, pulling it out of the scabbard and setting on the table. The part near the hilt had a layer of old, reddish rust on it.

"Hmm." He examined the sword, getting more polish on the cloth he was using. "The base price is three silvers, but there's a higher charge for extra large weapons like this. I don't see many greatswords, doing this job for pirates. A lot of them don't know what they're doing with something this bulky—"

"I can use it, I guarantee you," Callista said sharply, with a fierce glare that cut him off. "It's pretty dangerous in the right hands."

The merchant cleared his throat. "Sorry. I'll get started."

She turned away, scanning the crowd with a scowl. The greatsword hadn't seen a lot of use recently, and it was true that it wasn't the best for pirates. But it was a knight's weapon, and she didn't think she could get rid of it. Maybe once it looked better, she could hang it up somewhere on display and it'd have the glory that she'd lost.

A sharp scent was floating on the sea breeze, and she could almost tell what it was, but the ocean salt made it hard to recognize.

"This isn't regular rust."

Callista turned around, her frown directed entirely at the sword polisher now. "What kind of dumb remark is that?"

"It's not the normal kind of rust. Look." He pointed to the sword, which seemed to be... leaking something red. "Can you smell that? It's dried blood that became blood rust when the metal soaked it up, and now it's coming off again. There's tons of it on this blade."

She raised an eyebrow. "...And?"

"It's just, I don't usually see a sword with that."

Callista scoffed. "A sword with blood on it is an uncommon sight?"

"Well... They don't get used like before," the merchant said, almost defensively. "A lot of the swords I see are just old. They only get carried around, and pirates want them to look nice, so they come to me. Hardly anyone really fights with them anymore, and usually not... this much." He looked up, his last words sounding a little scared, no doubt thinking of what that implied.

Callista rolled her eyes. "Sorry for your inexperience with swords that have an actual purpose."

The sword polisher didn't say anything in response, just went back to quietly wiping the blade down. She sighed under her breath. She didn't actually go around stabbing people, as much as she thought about it all the time— the sword had gotten used for the last time months ago, long enough for it to rust. Even that time had been a bit of an exception.

But at least this merchant would take her seriously now.

A few minutes later, the sword polisher finished his work, and set the weapon back on the table, handling it much more carefully now that he'd seen its lethality. "Three silvers," he said, seeming to have decided that he was not going to take his chances and charge her extra like he'd said he would.

Callista tossed the coins at him and left with the sword, returning it to its place in the scabbard next to the glass bottle. The air still smelled faintly of old blood.

She'd started the day by getting something done. Now, she'd take the greatsword home and go back to carrying her rapier. She'd take that to the guild meeting, and then get everything figured out. She'd get accepted into Avrir's crew, or she'd move on and find another ship that wasn't so hesitant about having her.

It was a plan, but there was one thing she was having doubts about. Callista wasn't quite sure anymore whether the sword deserved a place of honor, like she'd thought, or should instead be hidden in shame with the suit of armor in her closet.

Wordcount: 3171/2500

There was a little song, on Elbrus, that Meri was rather fond of. It was this he hummed as he made his way home.

“Snuff the lights
The night has come
The beasts are out in disguise.”

He’d made his usual rounds that night, expecting more information than he’d gotten. It seemed the Council was being rather tight lipped about calling the Guilds to Virakis. It wasn’t exactly surprising, as a Guildcall was always brought about by secrecy. Robin had confirmed his suspicions about the emptying of Virakis Hall- every guild worth their salt had a spy or two on that island, and every Council member knew it. So naturally, they’d clear out everybody not directly in the inner circle.

All this made the curiosity swirling round in his head swell to unprecedented heights. What could " the greatest mystery of the Lawless Land" possibly entail? How did they expect him to solve it? Why would they come to Meri, one of the newest of Guild Prometheus's codebreakers, rather than some old trusted friend of the council? And, most worrisome, how did they know both his moniker, the Ghost, and his true identity? No one but his closest friends and that snake up in Vacatello Hall knew of him.

Frustrated, he pulled the source of all this speculation from his coat pocket. The letter itself was unassuming. It was written on standard yellow parchment, addressed to the Ghost of Elbrus, Master Codebreaker Barrowstone. He paused near a lamppost and struggled to reread those curling words in the dim light.

"Master Barrowstone-

Virakis Hall summons you. In a fortnight, we expect your attendance at the Council meeting beneath the Great Hall. We require your services, for the unraveling of the greatest mystery in the long history of our Lawless Land. Do not miss it."

No signature, no instructions for preparation, nothing. Left with even more questions, he stuffed the troublesome thing back into his pocket, and stepped down from the curb. Hopping over a puddle pooling where the street curved down slightly, he continued his humming. The pace of the song kept up with the gentle thud of his boots upon the cobblestone.

“Hush the babes
The wind will moan,
Liars, it's time to hide.”

This song seemed fitting, for tonight, when the whole of the Lawless Lands was on edge- uncertain of their fates in the coming weeks. This Guildcall could mean the end of pirate life as they’d known it. It could mean the end of your search for Misty. Meri scowled, shaking away that nagging voice in the back of his head. Nothing would stop him from finding her, even if all seven seas lit on fire.

Meri approached the dockside, following that familiar muddy road past Martha’s Merry Mischiefs and the Red Buckler. The light from Martha’s windows lent the street an orange glow, silhouettes of her patrons flickering like shadow puppets beneath his feet. The Buckler’s sign creaked, it’s paint peeling and tomato red buccaneer grinning garishly, pushed by winds from the sea. Meridian licked his lips. The ever-present taste of salt brought him back into his own body just as the Bucker’s door swung open.

Two drunkards stumbled onto the street, hanging on each other like large, ruddy barnacles. Barnacles would no doubt smell better. Meridian cracked a smile and turned to leave.

“Close the windows,
He’s out in the streets
The ghost is dancing on our graves!

Hold all your secrets close,
They’ve a habit to fly
On the isle of whispers and lies.”

The words lost their whimsy out of bumbling lips, morphing from an ode to espionage into some son of a baker’s drunken ditty. It was strange to hear his own thoughts from the mouth of another.


“What’re you smilin’ at, bastard?” The larger of the two stared at Meridian blearily, “Looks like we’ve found ourselves a ghost of our own, Torgan!” The other, supposedly Torgan, appeared on Meri’s right, much faster than any intoxicated person should.

“Indeed we have. He looks a bit lost, don’t ya think?” Torgan’s face lit up in a wicked grin, folds of weathered skin wrinkling unpleasantly.

“We can help him find his way!” The other came closer, smashing their beer bottle against the cobblestone. Meri sighed, reaching for the pistols conceal in his belt.

"Not so fast, laddy." Torgan's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. Fear spiked through Meridian's chest as he made contact with the brute. Not now. Not here.

But it was too late. The vision had already taken him.

For less than a second, Torgan and Meridian stood in a ship's hold. Where cargo should be kept, there were cages. In these cages, people. Old, young, in various states of disarray. In that instant, Meri recognized one of them. A young woman, with long curly brown hair and brilliant blue eyes held a young child close to her, trying to soothe him.

Misty.

And then, they were back on the docks. Torgan leapt away from him in horror. "What the hell was that?" He muttered, eyes wide with recognition. Confusion and fear turned to anger in an instant.

"Don't be usin' that damn witchcraft on me! My mind is me own!" He roared, taking a step towards Meri. He wouldn't get another word out.

Meri flew around him, whipping a pistol out. He grabbed Torgan by the throat, laying the barrel of the weapon against the man's temple.

Seething, he began to speak, "Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?" Meri screamed at the man, all reason lost in his fury.

Torgan shuddered, "Who the hell are you talkin' about, you bastard? I dunno what freak thing you did to me, but those people there, were just cargo to Finnigan! I dunno what happened to em, swear, swear!"

Meridian snarled, throwing Torgan to the side. He staggered off, nursing his injuries and the other followed close behind.

Meri raced home, fury still coursing through his veins. So she'd been alive on the ship. But where the hell was she now? He clenched his fists. He'd find Torgan later and question him then. But that fortnight mentioned in the letter was almost up. And to ignore a summons from Virakis was to ask for death.

He threw open the door, and stormed inside. "I'm going to need a ship. Josette. Leaving tonight!"

The guild leader’s office isn’t far from the operating theater. Aurea does her best to make it there on time, but winds up several minutes late despite her best efforts. Walking inside the office, she’s met with the guild leader’s glare.

“You’re late.”

“And you have my apologies for that, Lilianna,” Aurea says, annoyed. She opens her mouth to continue, but the guild leader holds up a hand to silence her. Aurea scowls and crosses her arms across her chest. It’s a struggle, but she stays quiet.

“I wouldn’t have called you in if it wasn’t important,” the guild leader, Lilianna, says. She lowers her hand. “I take it the operation went well?”

No thanks to you, Aurea wants to snap. She’s still fuming from the interruption, and she’s not yet willing to let it slide. Honestly, who in their right mind thinks it’s a good idea to interrupt someone during surgery?

But Lilianna didn’t make it to the top of the guild by being understanding or kind or even in her right mind, and Aurea doubts that it’d go over well if they were honest about how dangerous the guild leader’s actions could’ve been. So the doctor swallows their anger, gives a small nod and says, “All things considered, yes. It went well.”

Lilianna takes a moment to light her pipe. “Good,” she says, as she plucks the final match from a booklet on her desk and goes to strike it. The match promptly snaps in half.

Aurea hears a faint sigh. Lilianna drops the broken match in an ash-tray on her desk and leans forward in her chair. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I don’t suppose you have a light?”

Aurea suppresses the urge to roll her eyes, taking the opportunity to wipe the scowl off her face. She retrieves a matchbook from her coat pocket, steps closer to Lilianna’s desk and strikes a match, holding it out across the desk.

“You don’t smoke,” the guild leader says, matter-of-fact.

“No,” Aurea says, as she cups the match’s flame with her hand. “Lots around here do, and it’s convenient.”

Lilianna leans in towards the flame. She seems satisfied with the answer. And with the fact that her pipe is now lit. She takes a long drag off of it and lets out a satisfied sigh.
Aurea steps back and stands at a respectful distance, waiting for Lilianna to continue.

“So,” the guild leader says, after several excruciating seconds have passed. “I’ll spare you the details, but we’ve received a message from the Alliance.”

“We?” Aurea raises an eyebrow. As far as she’s aware, no-one outside of this room was aware of what she really did for the guild. There were a few who might’ve had some suspicions about her past, but- Well. So far she’d been under the assumption that they were smart enough to keep their thoughts to themselves. “I’m guessing it didn’t mention me by name?”

“No,” Lilianna says. “Of course not. That’s not why I’ve called you in. The Alliance hasn’t caught wind of you, not in any sense that matters. No, I’m being summoned. You’re coming as part of my crew.”

Aurea lets out a breath. It wasn’t like her to be this nervous, but it’d been a particularly stressful day. “Never a bad idea to have a doctor on-hand.” She says, after a beat. “My services are at your disposal.”

“I’m glad we understand each-other.” Lilianna says. “This’ll be like the last diplomatic job. Keep an ear to the ground, learn what you can. If there’s anything else I need from you, I’ll find a way to let you know.”

“Understood.”

“We leave tomorrow.” Lilianna says. “Be ready and on board my ship before dawn.”

“And the clinic?”

“I’ve already called for someone to take over in your absence.” Lilianna says. “They’ll arrive within the hour. I take it your trainees can hold their own until then?”

“Barring anything catastrophic.”

Lilianna gives a quiet laugh. “Glad to hear it,” she says. A moment later, she clears her throat. “Anyway. You’re clear on what to do?”

Aurea nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Please try to get some sleep in the meantime.”

There was a lighthouse on the south side of Cantiens, on a jagged cliff above the sea, that no one ever went to. Callista could understand why. Someone standing on the rocky beach below might look up and try to squint through the fog to catch a glimpse, but never get closer. They’d sometimes see something else in the mist that couldn’t be explained, and that was enough for people to stay away. The lighthouse was functional, and the guardians used their light Affinity like they were supposed to every night, so Guild Rogue didn’t have a problem with the way it was running— which was fortunate, because they also wanted nothing to do with it.

Recently, Callista had heard the rumors of an unusual sighting there. A ghost.

It was the third night in a row that someone had reported seeing a pale, glowing figure standing on the cliff at the foot of the tower. The sightings had become almost as much as a conversation start as the upcoming guild meeting. There were people who believed it and people who didn’t, but many of the believers agreed on a cause: even as things were about to change, the meeting would be unburying the old issues and bringing the past to life. Maybe even the dead were doing the same.

But the only issue that Callista had with ghosts, if they were even real, was that she wasn’t sure how to fight them if they passed right through things. Otherwise she was fine with theoretical spirits haunting places as much as they wanted to.

She’d refilled her glass bottle and bought passage for a ship to Virakis Hall that left at dawn. Callista cursed her luck that she wasn’t part of that crew she’d been trying to join and getting this trip for free. Once this was over and she had a job, maybe she’d find a sneaky way to make them pay for her lost time.

Her frustration was enough to keep her going that night as she waited for sunrise. But the sea-spray and ocean air were able to clear her head as she boarded the vessel and the ship set sail. As they sped across the waves away from Cantiens, they suddenly emerged from the thick fog surrounding the islands and into the clear, open air. It was nice to see the rising sun so brightly again.

Callista didn’t see people from other guilds that much. She’d been with crews that had a couple members from another guild, but she’d never really gotten along with any of them. Guild Rogue was known for toeing the lie between what the Pirate Code said what was acceptable and what wasn’t, which put a strain on relationships with other guilds. They couldn’t attack a small Skirys ship that had white sails of peace up, but they might follow it into a storm and wait for the passengers to make a desperate bargain. They couldn’t plunder another guild’s ship, but if the ship didn’t have any insignia or symbol to show it belonged to that guild, then there was some plausible deniability. She’d only been on ships that went after what were considered acceptable targets by the code, but she’d heard of other ships bending the rules for gold many times.

She was about to see people from every guild, and that would be a first. Guild Rogue would be the unpopular bunch, but as long as no fights broke out, everything would be alright. Callista idly wondered what the plan was. Maybe the Pirate Code was about to change, or maybe someone was stepping down, possibly even Furia. It would be great to know so that she could get hired and start sailing instead of wandering around aimlessly.

It still felt strange to be a pirate, and she almost felt like she was intruding. Maybe Avrir’s captain wasn’t sure she was enough of one and was just using the meeting as an excuse to stall. Callista sighed and stared at the waves, wishing the ship would move faster.

A few hours later, the person in the crow’s nest spotted land, and Callista could see the shape of a volcano in the distance. The ship got closer, and she could see that many ships were already docked, with people swarming the harbor as they got ready to enter. The meeting wasn’t starting for a few hours, so many were waiting.

And of course, Virakis Hall was inside the volcano. Callista wasn’t sure if that was the safest place to have such an important location, but she’d have to get comfortable with it.

The ship docked in the busy harbor, and the other passengers began to get off. She saw a familiar ship out of the corner of her eye at another pier— the one Avrir’s crew used. Remembering the cannonballs she could have bought, she felt a small flare of annoyance. At least it’ll be over soon, she thought with a grimace.

Callista took a quick sip from her bottle— for good luck, she told herself— and disembarked from the boat.

Wordcount: 2611/2500

Baroness Guilless stepped out from the shadow of the night, the light of nearby candles illuminating her face in flickering, ephemeral light. The dancing lights cast sharp shadows across her gaunt face, describing tales from her scars and pronouncing the lines that cradle her eyes.

She studied him for a moment, her eyes scanning him. When he was younger, that motion would make him tremble, but now it just reminded him of memories he wanted to forget. Guilless squinted, and then pointed to a bench on the outskirts of the building that overlooked the cliff. "Join me."

Rodrin obliged and followed her, sitting beside her on the bench. The smell of the sea was all around them here, but not in the suffocating way it was back on the coast. It carried an almost floral scent with it here, smelling light and breezy instead of stuffy and suffocating. The moon was bright tonight, and it illuminated the rocky sea, which rocked to a rhythm like that of a silky blanket that the royals would often use.

This bench was something he was used to. Before he was a cook, he would sit here and report on the going-ons of the current politics within Virakis or Skirys, and she would listen silently before giving him a new mission or order.

Now, though, he had nothing to report on. He had come to her silently begging to understand what's going on. At least she was still alive. At least.

"Report." Guilless said. Rodrin was half tempted to say something along the lines of "No, you report." but he withheld. So the next about half hour were of him explaining the dull events of Virakis up until the letter was sent out about the meeting. Guilless kept her comments to herself, only nodding along to certain points, or letting out just a small "mmh" to other points. About half way through the report, Rodrin knew he was skirting around the edge of the elephant in the room. Honestly, though, he didn't know how to bring it up.

Finally, he ended his report with "and then the meeting was announced, and Virakis is in chaos. I was hoping you had a bit more information about the meeting than I. No matter who I talk to or glean info from, no one knows anything."

Was it a bit abrupt? Sure, but he had to get it out. He had to be blunt about it because it he wasn't, he wasn't sure if Guilless would actually address it.

Guilless nodded at that. "I suppose I should let you know more about what's going on. But first," she said while standing up, "let's take a walk."

Wordcount: 3060/2500

The captain of the ship had made it clear that if Lisa wasn't going to sail with them after this journey, she'd have to pay for her passage, since - as the captain put it - "this ain't no fancy passenger ship. Either you work for me, or you pay me."

Lisa had no intention of doing either. She had worked during this journey, as hard as any actual crew member, and she wasn't about to pay on top of the work she'd done. If the captain was being fair, she'd be paid a few gold and sent on her way.

The captain wasn't being fair, however, and Lisa knew how to play that game.

By the time the lookout shouted “land ahoy!” and the dark shadow of the volcano housing Virakis hall was approaching slowly, Lisa was already on deck, waiting at the rail with all her - admittedly meager - belongings packed into the bag by her feet. The wind whipped through her blue hair, sending midnight locks waving into her face, whispering excitedly as it dragged the ship across the waters and toward the harbour; its voice blended seamlessly with the noise of the pirates as they scurried across the deck, pounding footsteps and loud shouts as they prepared to sail safely into the bay.

The familiar sounds of the docks carried clearly across the waters; pirates talking and cursing and adjusting to solid ground once more, the heavy clump of footsteps against wooden planks, the creak of ships relaxing into the soft swell and retreat of the smooth harbour water. Lisa closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the sounds an irritant pressing against the inside of her skull after the long hours of near-silence on the ship. She let the noise wash through her head, mentally sorting each sound into a mental file of important and unimportant and forcing the unimportant sounds into the background until they were nothing more than a quiet hum and it wasn’t quite as overwhelming.

A deep exhale, and she opened her eyes to watch the ship slide into an empty docking bay.

She let a slow, lazy smile curve her lips, pulling a pair of dark gloves from her pocket and sliding them on.

Showtime.

The ship’s hull scraped against the dock, jarring the pirates and throwing them off balance for a precious second. She braced herself against the railing, recovering more quickly than anyone else. Another deep inhale, another deep exhale, and she jumped over the side.

Behind her, she heard someone cry out; the captain, calling for someone to stop her, but she had already swung herself over the side and grabbed for the rope she’d tied to the railing– hidden by an illusion until this point, of course. It shattered as she reached through it, melted bits of illusion falling to the sea below before vanishing in a shower of sparkles. The captain’s voice turned to anger as she quickly slid to the end of the rope – letting her gloves take the heat of friction – and pushed off the side of the ship, landing neatly on the dock. She looked back up at the deck, grinning at the captain’s fury, and gave him a casual salute before turning to run.

The crowd of pirates on the docks parted before her, an ocean of people rippling away to give her room to move. She didn’t even have to whack people’s ankles with her cane, which was a little disappointing, but probably better in the long run.

She cast one last glance back at the ship before it was lost to sight, and sighed. She’d miss that rope. Good rope was hard to find sometimes, and that had been a good rope.
Oh well.



There were still quite a few hours before the meeting was supposed to begin, and the pirates around Lisa were bored.

So, obligingly, she entertained them.

Someone had thrown up a makeshift pub – really nothing more than a few old boards set up to be a bar with overturned barrels as tables and chairs, and the alcohol tasted- well, it tasted like someone’s stash of cheap liquor that had been smuggled on board to the disapproval of the captain – just outside the dock area and it was there that Lisa found plenty of bored marks ready to give her too much money for a few card tricks and some games of dice. She didn’t worry that anyone from the crew that had brought her here would find her; even if they did, she now had several large friends with even larger weapons who would fall over each other to try and protect their earnings- and the pretty woman giving out the gold.

It was in between hands of cards that she became aware of the buzzing in her ears. She paused mid-shuffle and tilted her head slightly, trying to pinpoint if the buzzing was coming from outside, or if it was… that again.

“Hey,” the pirate in front of her protested, snapping their fingers impatiently. “You gonna deal or what?”

She didn’t respond.

That again, it appeared.

She sighed softly, pasted a smile on her face, and set down the cards.

“Sorry, darlings, but I need a minute,” she sing-songed, sweeping the cards into her sleeve and waltzing away from the table. She barely heard their protests over the sound in her head.

Shshshshsshshshstshshshsrshshshsshasshshssishshsshthshshsosshhsr…

She winced and moved faster. She needed to find somewhere to be alone before it hit her in full force-

Shshshshstshshshhshrsshhshsashshshsishshsstshshshshsoshshshrshshs…

Vaguely, she realized she’d dropped to her knees, and she hurriedly rearranged herself on the ground so she was sitting rather than kneeling against a large black rock; a remenant of the volcano turned to her shelter.

She pushed her hair out of her face with one numb hand and reached for her bag with the other, easily finding her journal. The leather binding was falling apart and she nearly dropped it as she brought it shakily to her lap. A tiny feather earring unclipped to become a quill pen, a tiny diamond pendant in her other ear was full of ink.

Her hands were shaking badly enough now that it was a miracle she didn’t drop anything.

Deep breath. In, out.

Write.

Write.

Shshshshshshstshshhshshsrhshshshshsashshshshishshshsthshshshsoshshshsr…

Shshssh…

Shsh..

Once the noise in her head cleared, her hands stopped shaking and her writing became stable and elegant once more. One more deep breath, and she replaced her quill and ink in her earrings, set her journal back in her bag, and returned to the makeshift bar.
“Sorry!” she apologized cheerfully. “It’s been a long ship ride, y’know?”

The pirates at the bar nodded, some a little ruefully – they understood far too well– and soon her abrupt departure was forgotten, brushed away with every flick of a card and every chink of gold.

Wordcount: 1136/2500

The two of them walked out of the pagoda. The moonlight shone through trees with white crystal leaves and filtered onto the pathway. sending iridescent streams of light onto a garden of crimson flowers below.

Guilless traced her hands along the flowers. "You're a smart man, Rodrin. In your time in Virakis, did you ever come across the origins of The Pirate Code?"

Rodrin glanced at her, confusion etched all across his face. "There's an origin to those lawless ethics?"

Guilless chuckled at that --a rare sound from her. "No, I'm sure those origins will never be solved. That's a code rooted in the most basic human instincts." She picked a flower and sniffed it as they walked. "No, I'm talking about a Code rooted less in tradition and more in.. well, the Affinity sense." She glanced at Rodrin.

"Magic?"

"Magic." She said in affirmation. She lifted the crimson flower up to her face and softly blew. "Long ago, I first learned of the Pirate Code. I won't bore you with the details of that story, but... in essence, this code is much like this flower." The flower in her hand bloomed and light phased through it. "Under the right circumstances, the flower can thrive, giving nourishment to its people and life for future generations. But," she took off a metal cap on her right pinky finger, revealing a short blade on her nail, and she nicked the golden stem of the flower. The petals curled and the flower wilted, turning into dust. "If it were to sour, the magic would shift out of balance," she said, blowing the remnants of the flower from her hand.

"In a small flower, it wilts. But, with something like the Pirate Code, who knows what it would cause."

Rodrin processed this information. As they passed through the garden into a small observatory. Finally, he said, "how many pirates know about this?"

Guilless shrugged. "As far as I know, fewer than ten. Only the Guild Leaders, Furia, and probably a few trusted associates." She stepped into the observatory. "And, as far as knowing more than what I've told you, most are dead by now, save for a few of the old guard. So, myself, and, well," she thought on it, "and Furia."

She stepped before a round disk that hovered above the stone floor. She picked up a large pot and poured black water into the disk. The water rippled iridescent colors and shapes. For someone like Guilless, it probably whispered untold secrets. For Rodrin, it was just colors.

"So, why are you telling me this now?" Rodrin asked. It didn't need to be said, but it was well known that Guilless kept her cards close to her chest, even to someone like Rodrin.

"Because we need to be prepared for the meeting." She said simply as she gazed into the water. When Rodrin didn't reply, she glanced back at him. "You asked me to tell you what the meeting is about. My best guess is that it's about the Pirate Code."

"Is this an educated guess?" Rodrin prodded gently.

She chuckled. "No, not in the sense you want. But, I have the added benefit of being one of the only people still alive from the last all-hands-on-deck meeting." After a moment, she added, "well, not that some people didn't try to off me, then."

"I thought the last meeting was about--"

"Kirvankis using me as a scapegoat, yes, but I never did tell you the reason why he did that. The responsibility of knowing about the Pirate Code, knowing fully, is one that is not taken lightly. I was to be appointed as its guardian, and, well, Kirvankis always was a jealous bastard." Guilless swirled the water, and it splashed out of the dial and swirled all around them, shimmering countless colors. "There was a lot of details and nuance to that story that's missing here, but that's for another time."

Rodrin stepped into the circling water. It didn't dowse him. Instead, it felt cooling and cleansing. He continued the conversation. "Why do you think this meeting has to do with this Pirate Code?"

Guilless pondered that question. "Well, I was to be its guardian all those years ago, and it never happened. I don't think Furia chose a guardian since. Perhaps, with the political climate shifting, Furia might realize her time as the Alliance Leader is coming to a close and she must choose a guardian before that knowledge is lost with her stepping down." She flashed a smirk at Rodrin. "But, you didn't hear that from me." She etched into the water some kind of language that Rodrin didn't know, and all of a sudden the water was showing an image of Virakis' enormous kitchen appeared on the water, shimmering like a mirage. "Now, tell no one of what I told you. And you must be on your guard today. Who knows what kind of characters are going to show up for this meeting."

Before stepping into the water, she looked back at Rodrin. "Come, let's not be late."