Elise watched helplessly as two navy men took control of the Lyre. Her hands were cuffed behind her back alongside everyone else. Sincirce tried to wiggle free with a spell to make her hands shrink, but she found herself zapped by the cuffs. The admiral put his fingers in his belt, in a similar manner to the captain. “A true sailor always comes prepared,” he said, as Sincirce wringed her slightly burnt hands. “You never know when someone might have some magic trickery to escape, so we had our steel forger craft magic-proof cuffs.”

“You could have told me that,” Sincirce muttered, “Before it messed up my manicure.”

“Oh ho ho,” the admiral laughed with a merry chortle. “Where you’re going, you won’t be needing nail polish, hand cream or baby lotion. The only thing that will be decorating those hands is calluses.”

“Kill me now!” Sincirce said closing her eyes and pretending to make tears in them.

“Kill me too!” Tony said, sobbing in his gravelly voice.

“Why?” the admiral asked.

“If I gotta hear her cry this whole time, I’d ratha be dead!” Tony croaked.

The admiral shook his head. “No one is dying here today! Not yet anyway.”

“Then…what are you gonna do with us?” Elise whimpered as she watched the navy men pilot the Lyre beside the admiral’s ship.

The admiral took one hard look at his pirate brother. “There’s nothing I’d love more than to puncture this scallywag scoundrel. But I have to admit, my passion for Lyra clouded my judgement as an admiral.”

The captain stared his brother down but didn’t make a sound. This prompted the admiral to puff out his naval vest like a tall penguin attempting to be intimidating. “In the words of Queen Annabell herself, ‘a criminal must stand trial, no matter how wicked’ and yes, that even includes pirates like you.”

“Then,” Tito said, trying to look brave in front of Elise. “Where are you gonna take us?”

The admiral ruffled the young lad’s hair. “Why to an exotic locale like Prison Island of course.”

Everyone silently exchanged looks of unease as the admiral snickered. “Or as I call it, the Piratentiary.”

***

Prison Island, as it turned out, was hardly an island at all. Rather it was a large, steel, boxlike rig floating out by the Mainland Isle. It was three stories tall, and the size of a small castle. Metallic pillars rose out of the ocean like mighty legs and kept the Island sturdy and tall. Naval patrol boats circled it, ensuring that no one ever escaped from the cursed place. Cries from both prisoners and the overhead gulls echoed from outside as the admiral guided his naval steamboat to the narrow dock that protruded out of the building. There he led Sincirce, Archibell, Tito, Tony and Elise out in cuffs.

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“Welcome to your new home,” the admiral laughed. “You’ll have a nice room with a view overlooking the sea!”

As everyone walked past the admiral, he eyed Archibell like a hawk. “Why’ve you been so silent?” he demanded. “Up to your old tricks are we?”

The captain merely laughed. “I simply have nothing to say to you.”

“Why?!” the admiral demanded harshly.

The captain gave a heart squawk of a laugh. “Because my silence irritates you.”

The admiral growled and hissed at Archibell, but there was nothing he could do. Elise couldn’t help but manage a small smile at their brotherly quarrel. It almost made her forget she was now an incarcerated pirate.

Two hulking, massive guards stood in the entrance to Prison Island, both clad in extra large uniforms and holding broad swords the length of Elise’s frame. They stepped aside while observing the Lyre’s crew with their beady eyes. Once everyone was inside the lobby, they found themselves accosted by another unusual character.

“My my, look who we have here?” a deep and campy voice said, “The cat has returned with quite the ratpack!”

A very tall, effeminate man approached them. He was wearing the usual white and pink naval colors, but he sported them as a dapper pinstriped suit instead. He had a very high, blond widows peak and his eyelashes seemed unusually long to be natural. A turquoise carnation popped out of his suit. In spite of his elegant costume, he had a saber that curved out of a leather belt on his pants.

“Warden Florian Cornbury?” the admiral said with a salute. “It’s been ages.”

“It has, old bean,” Warden Cornbury responded and he eyed the captain while batting his eyelashes. “Who is this handsome yet rugged replica you’ve brought with you?”

“Captain Jonas Archibell,” the admiral said. “He is my brother who has devoted his life to scum and villainy. You might know him better as the captain of the nefarious Lyre.”

Captain Archibell gave a proud smile. “The only ship that’s gone to hell and come back in one piece!”

Warden Cornbury’s nostrils flared dramatically. “It staggers my mind that a man of your class managed to bring in one of the most nefarious pirates in the four great seas.”

“I’ll assure you,” the admiral said, looking slightly insulted. “Class has nothing to do with it, only skill.”

“Very well,” Cornbury chortled. “I guess class isn’t everything. Especially if you have none.”

Everyone watched as the hawkeyed admiral gave the foppish warden a condemning glare, before he growled. “They’re all yours, Cornbury. Make sure you establish a trial date for each of them. And be very careful with the lady. Not only does she have a better wardrobe than yours, but she’s also gifted with island witch magic.”

Warden Cornbury scoffed at Sincirce.

“Absolutely scandalous,” he said, glaring at the witch who was giving him the stink eye back. “Nobody has a better wardrobe than me. Especially some witch from out in the boonies.”

Sincirce cackled. “I highly doubt it, preppy boy. My wardrobe is huge with thousands of different outfits to choose from!”

“So is mine,” Warden Cornbury said. “I practically live in my wardrobe! There’s never a time I’m not in it!”

“I doubt dat,” Tony said. “Yer pretty outta the wardrobe to me, flyboy!”

The warden gasped and stepped back as everyone glared at Tony until he added, "Not that there's anything wrong with dat..."

“None taken, fishy-wishy,” Cornbury said, putting his gloved hand forward. “But right now, it’s time for scum like you to take a little vacay to our exercise room! There you’ll meet your fellow invalids in crime.”

A loud crack and helpless cry sounded from a large steel door behind Cornbury. It sounded like a whip being cracked and as Elise approached the door, her heart pounded. It seemed she was going to see what a real-life torture chamber was like, and even worse, she was going to be subjected to it.