Waiting on the deck was tense. Very tense. Lawrence had entered the captain's quarters somewhere around two hours ago now, and Archer's nerves were beginning to crack. Talwynn had needed to be almost physically restrained from marching her way up the room and battering down the door. A dozen marines lined the deck in two ranks, Corporal Owen to their left and Sergeant Owen to the right. There was very little doubt in most people's minds what was happening here. The only people who couldn't have known what was happening were those who physically weren't there, such as the captain himself. As the time had passed, however, the voices inside the cabin had become louder and louder. Archer knew that Lawrence was angry, and had heard him raise his voice before, but never in his life had he heard the man this angry. Captain Crowle as well, for that matter, who had always made an effort to appear cool and collected, was matching the engineer's volume. The two of them seemed intent on shouting the other down, a third, weaselly voice joining on the side of Crowle every now and again. Archer and Crowle swapped a nervous glance as a fresh bout of shouting started up, loud enough to be heard on the deck, if muffled.

"That's one of the most foolish ideas you've had yet! You raise the anger of the crew this high with forced overtime for no pay thanks to the pathetic, self-aggrandising adventurism that dictates this ship's course, and now this! What the fuck are you thinking!?"

"Mind your tone, Petty Officer! You may have lived on this ship longer than I, but that does not grant you seniority over me! The course I chart is where we fly, my orders are the ones that are followed, no those of an upjumped rating who happened into his post because he was the only man left for the job!"

There was the sound of a clattering noise from inside the room, and Corporal Owen raised a hand to steady the men, though it seemed more of an impulse to keep himself from doing anything stupid.

"DON'T YOU DARE SPEAK ILL OF MY FORBEARS, WRETCH! WE STOOD AND DIED ALONGSIDE YOUR FATHER, WHILST YOU WHILED AWAY YOUR DAYS WHORING AND DRINKING AT YOUR FAMILY MANOR! DO YOU THINK IT WAS THE WHIMS OF YOUR FATHER THAT KEPT THIS SHIP AFLOAT? IT WAS SWEAT! SWEAT AND BLOOD!"

The truly impressive volume Lawrence's voice had risen to was matched by the captain, the two of them sounding less like officers of the Royal Albionic Navy and more like a pair of argumentative alcoholics about to be forcibly removed from a dockside pub.

"YOU MAY HAVE FORGOTTEN, MR WALKER, BUT THIS SHIP IS MINE! I FUCKING OWN YOU, SO YOU WILL STAND DOWN AND DO AS I DAMN WELL TELL YOU TO!"

Archer couldn't see what was happening inside, but clearly the weasel faced second in command must have tried something particularly stupid, because a few seconds later there was a crashing noise from inside.

"Are you certain you wish to initiate an altercation, Mr Trevorrow? Last I checked you're only here to STROKE HIS FUCKING EGO! SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND SEAT YOURSELF BEFORE I DO SOMETHING UNTOWARDS!"

Talwynn's smile widened, becoming more like a predatory grin than a true expression of joy.

"Oh, how I wish I could be a fly on the wall in that room right now. How the little weasel must be squirming."

Archer shuffled on his feet, mildly uncomfortable with the savage joy she'd managed to express to no-one in particular with those few words. She'd seemingly been waiting a very long time for this.

There was a few more lines of bellowed dialogue between the captain and the engineer, but they were so filled with anger and rage that they could not be reasonably discerned by his ears, especially seeing as they kept shouting over each other in the hopes of... well, he didn't know what either of them wanted to accomplish at this point, since it was clear that there was only one way this was going to end. Archer thought back to the pistol Lawrence had strapped to his belt, and prayed that he wouldn't hear a gunshot before the day was over. There'd been enough blood on Lawrence this last week.

Seemingly in response to Archer's thoughts the door burst open at that very moment, and all on the deck bore witness as Lawrence emerged with the weasel-faced man being lifted above the ground by the neck. Lawrence gave an almost cursory glance around the deck before none too carefully throwing the man down the stairs leading up to the captain's quarters. Sergeant Owen nodded at his nephew, and upon seeing a hand signal from the corporal two marines rushed forwards and seized the groaning and injured man.

"God, what happened?"

"Not God, mate." Talwynn called down to the weasel. "It's Lawrence fucking Walker. You should try directing your prayers to him at the moment, unless you wanna be meeting the big man upstairs very soon."

Ignoring the shout that came from the captain in his chambers Lawrence stepped forwards, looking down at the second in command with disdain.

"You can go with Crowle to the Blacksnow Graveyards if you want to, but the two of you will need to find a new method of transportation. I'll not see my beloved home consigned to being a frozen wreck to satisfy your vanity."

Captain Crowle stormed out of his chambers as Lawrence descended the stairs, the eyes of the man falling on the marines. The captain's eyes lit up as he saw them, pointing at Lawrence with one hand as the other gripped the pommel of his sword.

"Seize him! Arrest that man! Arrest Mr Walker!"

Not a single soul moved to comply. Oh, certainly, a few of the younger marines looked nervously at their sergeant and corporal, but upon seeing the order to remain in place they remained stationary. A voice called out from somewhere off to the side, and Archer turned to watch as one of the deckhands they'd taken on at King's Cove stalked forwards with a pistol aimed squarely at the engineer.

"Oh, for God's sake, if you won't do as the captain asks then I will!"

Archer heard the click of a gun's hammer and flinched as a bang ran out. For a second time stood still, but he soon noticed that Lawrence was still standing, unharmed, and that the deckhand had dropped to the floor like a stone. At first he thought that Lawrence had shot the man with the pistol he had strapped to his belt, but the gun was still in its place at the man's hip. He then looked over to the marines, and saw Michael on one knee aiming squarely at where the deckhand used to be with a smoking rifle in his hands. Archer watched as his friend turned to look at Lawrence and nodded, which the aetherborn returned with not a hint of satisfaction on his face. Lawrence surveyed the crowds on deck, which had swelled much since the beginning of this whole escapade, and though few would have noticed, to those who were close to him such as Archer, it seemed plainly obvious that the deep breath he took in was not just to fill his lungs and make himself ready to speak, but also to settle his nerves and regain his composure. Only when he must have judged himself as ready did he begin speaking, Captain Crowle seemingly stunned into silence by the death of the deckhand in front of him.

"Captain Crowle, here," Lawrence gestured to the man behind him, "was just enlightening me on a few of his plans he wished to enact when we reached Three-Streams. I do think you'll all find them quite enlightening."

The captain made to speak, but Lawrence was louder and faster, deliberately talking over the man for the first few words in a raised voice.

"OUR CAPTAIN HERE wishes for us to sail far, far to the north. All the way to the Blacksnow Graveyards, in fact. He wishes for all of this despite the fact that he will not pay for the ship, nor me or you, to be proofed against the biting frosts and howling gales. He will not provide additional pay for such a long journey, nor danger money in the event of injury or worse."

Lawrence stopped to gather his breath, and Archer ran the facts through his head in the brief interlude. Was the captain really that mad? There was nothing left that far north! Nothing but a cold, lonely grave! It was so cold that even the scavengers, who would typically pick clean the wrecks of any ships that fell, knew to give the area a wide berth, despite the fact that there were still plenty of wrecks there. Not nearly as many as the Carronade Pass, but still a substantial amount. The captain wants us all to go there? And for no extra pay?

"On top of this, he knows that many of you will, rightly, attempt to jump ship at the next port. Our passage through this infernal megaflora forest and desert has been fraught with danger and with few periods of pleasantry, but our captain believed he had found the solution to your low morale and willingness to leave the ship!"

More than a few of the men were directing scathing glares towards the Captain Crowle now, who attempted once more to interrupt Lawrence. Archer had the feeling that the most damning part was yet to come, however.

"Lawrence, really, that is enough-"

"His solution to this issue," Lawrence began, cutting off the captain once more, "is to deny you all the right to shore leave once we reach Three-Streams. The captain would send trusted runners to gather supplies, and then we would leave for the far north to satisfy his vanity. You would not have even the ability to set foot outside of the Sunbird's walkways and decks without his express permission."

Archer felt a sensation of heat from around him, as though the men and women listening around him were so angry that their blood had literally begun to boil.

"Lawrence, we're friends! Why do you insist on fighting me so?"

The engineer turned to face the captain, a bitter smile on his face.

"No, we're not. We stopped being friends years ago. We stopped being friends when it became clear that you were unwilling to learn from your mistakes, unwilling to follow the council of others. We stopped being friends when you started caring for your image more than your companions. We've not been friends for a very long time, Crowle Brooke. I would have followed you to the ends of the earth in those golden days when you first took the captaincy from your father, but that dream died a long time ago for the both of us. We're sailing home. We're going back to Albion."

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Archer supposed that the lack of leave was the last straw for the crew, either that or the news of their next destination for their next pitiful haul.

"You will not be swayed into standing down from this course of action, Mr Walker?"

The captain's voice was level, measured, as though he were trying to put back on the costume of the brave young privateer he had worn on the day they had enlisted. Not that it would ever convince anyone anymore, of course. He had shorn his mask, and all had beheld what lay beneath. What was seen could not be unseen, and what was done could not be undone. Lawrence had cast the die, and now all that remained was for the last of this charade to play out and be through.

"No, I will not. I offer you the chance to step down peaceably, for the friendship we once shared while we were young, but you must step down. I will not shorn my duty to the Sunbird here. You need to step down."

The captain shook his head in what seemed like genuine disbelief. Archer damned his eyes and his mind, for he still found the man handsome even now.

"In that case the Royal Albionic Navy no longer has need of your services. Mr Rickard, arrest the Petty Officer. He will spend the rest of this journey in the brig."

Archer scoffed. Both of the Rickards had already refused to follow that exact order once already! What made the captain think sergeant Rickard would be differently inclined a scant few minutes later?

Crowle whipped around to face Archer, storming down the stairs as he did so. There was a rasping noise as the sabre left its scabbard, despite the fact that there really shouldn't have been if the scabbard was properly made.

"I will not be mocked by the likes of you, you base-born tw-"

There was a series of noises after that, the click of a gun's hammer and the sound of a crank being slipped into place making the captain stop dead in his tracks.

"Take another step, Crowle, and I promise you your foot will not have found the floor before this bullet finds your heart."

Lawrence's voice was deathly cold, the pistol in his grip unwavering and true. A voice rang out from a raised platform to the side, the same that the noise of the crank being slipped into place had come from, and Archer turned to see a stern-faced Talwynn on one of the puckle-guns, aiming the rapid firing weapon directly at her former boss. The disgraced captain followed his gaze and blanched, somehow scowling all the harder.

"Let's not be trying anything stupid, Crowle. Step down now and we'll even let you remain on board on until we reach blighty once more. You can run home to your mansion, your brother, and your mother when we do. Try anything in the next few seconds and I promise you we'll be mailing back what's left of you in a jam jar."

Lawrence nodded at her, and turned back to the captain.

"I will brook your leadership no longer. Not when this ship, my home, has suffered so greatly from it. You are not the man your father was, far from it. He was the best captain I have ever known. You are certainly the worst. Owens?"

The two large men chorused back at Lawrence.

"Aye?"

"Can I trust you to act in the wellbeing of the Sunbird and her crew?"

The men nodded grimly back, seeming to understand something that Archer himself didn't.

"Good."

Lawrence turned back to Crowe with a dismissive, almost hateful glare.

"Crowle Brooke, you are relieved of command. Your recklessness and inability to change your ways has endangered the Sunbird one too many times, and you have lost the trust and respect of her crew. Sergeant Owen, Corporal Owen, take the captain into custody. He will remain under arrest until we next return to Albion."

Silence reined for a few seconds, but then it was broken in a most spectacular fashion. Cooke, Talon Cooke, ran towards the cacophony and planted himself between the captain and the engineer. Lawrence looked a little taken aback, but still remained unflinching as he kept the gun level with Crowle.

"Talon, what are you doing?"

"Lawrence, please," the man said with a weary expression, "there needn't be any blood spilled on deck here today. Crowle will lower his sword, and you'll lower the gun. Please?"

There was silence once more for a few seconds. For a few agonising seconds Lawrence still had his gun trained on the captain's heart, and death ruled in his eyes, but eventually the engineer sighed and lowered the pistol. The sigh sounded so tired, but there was little he could do about it in front of the crew, Archer guessed. The assistant engineer watched as Talon turned to face the captain, face set in a pleading and yet hopeful expression.

"Crowle," he began, "I don't want you to get hurt. We were friends once, and even if you've since forgotten what it meant to be a friend, I haven't. I don't want you to die here. We can't afford to enact the plans you wish, since they will only lead to division and further violence. We can never afford division and violence. Please, for the good of us all, stand down and resign from your post with your honour intact. Please."

Archer smiled softly at the man's gentle words. He was reminded a great deal of one of the crown prince's old speeches, may the Lord rest the poor boy. It had much the same passion for equality, tolerance, and compassion that the young prince had given as a child, to the delight of the nation and his family both. Archer's favourite had to be the one that the lad had given to parliament, typified by its final line of, "There is no 'we' and 'they', only us!"

Slowly, ever so slowly, the captain's grip around his sword fell slack, and it dropped to the floor. The man was quiet for a long while, but as with all things it was eventually broken.

"Okay."

With that the ex-Captain nodded stiffly at Lawrence with a strange mixture of resentment, apathy, and respect, and walked back into his quarters. Lawrence nodded, seemingly to himself, before turning to the marines.

"Sergeant, Corporal, see to it that he remains confined to his quarters."

The two men looked between each other.

"You... don't want him moved to the brig anymore, sir?"

There was a faint look of exasperation on Lawrence's face at the title, but this was not the time nor the place to address such misgivings.

"No. He's done as he was asked. The least we can do is allow him to make this trip in comfort and maintain his dignity."

"Alright, clear out, the lot of you! Excitement's over, back to work! There's still a ways to go until we reach Three-Streams, then we'll repair, restock, rest, and head back home. Until we reach Three-Streams, we'll all be working hard still, so lets not get distracted by this. Back to it!"

The men grumbled their dissent, but still did as commanded. Archer looked down at the dead man and swallowed as the body was carried away. Michael was still knelt in place, as were the others in his rank, but it seemed that his mind had only just begun to relay what he had done back to him. He had killed a man, quite possibly for the first time in his life. Archer grimaced. That was sure to be a mess, and no mistake. He didn't envy the poor marine at all. Still, there was nothing for him to gain by dwelling on it. He'd help his friend if the going got rough for him, be there for him as needed, but right now there was nothing to be done in the ways of comfort or kind words; they were all far too busy at the moment.

Archer shrugged to himself. He'd sit with Michael later and the two of them would get so drunk that neither of them would be able to remember that they'd even signed on to the Sunbird, let alone what they'd just done. It might not have been the healthiest coping method, but fuck, it wasn't like the two of them were exactly gonna be experts on that sort of thing given the last week or two.

He broke himself from his trail of thought once he realised that the dead man was no longer there, and a few deckhands were swabbing the decks where he once had been. The other officers were gathered around, discussing something or other, and Archer had just enough presence of mind to join the conversation as Talwynn broke in to whatever back and forwards the corporal had been having with the First Mate, silencing them both.

"Oi, give it a rest, the both of you! There's more important things to discuss right now, starting with this: the Sunbird will need a new captain to her us back to Albion, won't she?"

At the pointed look she sent him Lawrence shook his head, and Archer thought that the man had already pieced together exactly where Talwynn was going with this.

"Oh, oh no. No, I deposed Crowle, but I am not taking the captaincy."

Archer shrugged at him, backing Talwynn up.

"No, she's right. You might not want the captaincy, but at the end of the day I don't think anyone else could really be expected to keep the position at the moment. You're about the only person that wouldn't get half of the crew falling into anarchy as captain. No offence to anyone else here, of course."

Talwynn and the sergeant shrugged, smiling.

"None taken. I don't want the job."

"Likewise. Sorry Captain Walker, you're stuck on this one."

The weasel, who the rest of them had almost forgotten was being held by two marines next to them, righted himself at this, hurriedly getting back to his feet and moving to stand deferentially before Lawrence.

"Officer Lawrence is the right choice! Crowle has led us into danger after danger with little to no reward! Perhaps it's time for new leadership, from someone who knows this ship better than any other! Captain Lawrence!"

The others gave him a little bit of an odd look, seeing as he'd been one of the firmest supporters of Crowle and now seemed happy to sell the man out. Lawrence eyed him suspiciously.

"Why? Why do you suddenly wish for me to take the captaincy?"

Talwynn rolled her eyes, and honestly it felt like about half of what she spent her time doing to Archer, before speaking in a matter of fact tone.

"Cause he wants to keep his position as the First Mate."

Lawrence's eyes narrowed at the man, who squeaked a little bit and shrugged.

"... Guilty?"

Lawrence scoffed.

"No, absolutely not. You despise me, and I wouldn't be surprised to find a knife in my ribs after a month or two if I trusted you."

Cooke made to speak, then visibly hesitated, as though he could not quite believe what he was about to say. Lawrence turned to look at Talon, visibly softening even if no-one was suicidal enough to mention it to his face, and urged him on.

"Talon? Have you any advice for what should be done here?"

At the urging Talon seemed to regain a little confidence, most of which seemed to have fled him after the whole 'stepping between a gun wielded by his closest confidant and the captain' stunt.

"Yes, I think so, anyway."

"Well, let's hear it!"

Cooke took in a deep breath before speaking.

"I think... I think you should allow him to keep his position as the First Mate."

"You cannot be serious." Talwynn interrupted, but was swiftly silenced by Lawrence's raised hand.

"He'll have a reason. Talon?"

Cooke nodded thankfully at Lawrence, pointedly ignoring the ecstatic First Mate, and continued.

"As much as you may find him distasteful, he knows his administrative duties well. He knows the crew, he knows who's good at what and who isn't, and he knows exactly how far you're all willing to go to keep the Sunbird safe. With all that said, it seems as though you could expect him to be good at his job and, as much as we can expect from someone like him, loyal."

Lawrence was silent for a while, staring at Cooke.

"Did you just... use logical reasoning to convince me of something?"

Cooke nodded, tilting their head a little.

"I think so. Did I do it well?"

Quite frankly Archer thought that, had the rest of them not been there, Lawrence may have done a great deal more than smile and nod at the man, but he kept such thoughts to himself. It wasn't his business to meddle in such things after all.

"Indeed you did. Did you hear his advice, Stefan? He tells me you can be trusted to continue to work as you have before. Do you agree with him?"

The man nodded fervently, looking more relieved than Archer had ever seen someone look in their life. Lawrence nodded once back at him in response.

"Then it is done. You are to retain your position as First Mate of the Sunbird. Do not make me regret this."

The man shook Lawrence's hand with great urgency, as though he were worried the offer would be withdrawn. Not that this was an offer, of course. This was an order.

"I won't, Captain Lawrence sir! I won't!"

The engineer withdrew his hand sharply.

"For your sake I do hope so, Mr Trevorrow. My offer can always be withdrawn if standards are not met. Good day."

With that Lawrence walked off, leaving the rest of them mildly bewildered but resolute. They had a new captain now, and a job to boot. Archer shook his head. He should get back to performing maintenance. No sense in letting the ship fall apart just because of a mutiny, after all.