image [https://i.imgur.com/FpeXkC9.png]

Cassa, our new and unexpected ally, left us between the jailhouse and the dock and began marching straight towards the main house on the island. This is where the bulk of the forces were located and served as the main base for the pirates’ operations.

On the way there, he passed Morpo himself, who was sitting on a barrel by the campfire and regaling tales of past victories to some of his subordinates—stories they had probably heard a thousand times before. Morpo was not the target here, however. Although I’m sure Cassa hated him just as much as we did, revenge was not a dish to be served that fateful night.

The house itself must have been an impressive display in its heyday. The first floor opened into a large foyer, which had been converted into a makeshift pub, complete with tables for the pirates to do their drinking and play their card games during the times when they were off-duty. One of the more creative of the bunch was standing in the centre of the room and playing an accordion, leading the others in a merry chant. A few others were boxing in the corners, but they were mostly left to their devices. What was once an exquisite home was now a barely-standing assemblage of wood and nails.

From the foyer, a number of rooms connected and were generally filled with pirates doing who-knows-what. Cassa ignored these rooms and made his way up the grand staircase to the second floor. From the top of the stairs, there was a storeroom to the left and a corridor to the right from which Cassa could see the antics of the floor below from an impressive angle.

He followed the corridor until he reached the end of a hallway. It was here that Morpo’s elites would stay, away from the rabble below and keeping a somewhat more sober state in case any issues came up.

One such elite carried the official title of the boathouse keeper, though his true job was more of a second in command for Morpo. In addition to controlling access to any and all vessels on the island, he was an enforcer and Morpo’s right-hand man.

Cassa stood at the entrance of the boathouse keeper’s office and looked in. Inside were the boathouse keeper himself and three of his guards, also of elite ranking. The four of them were chatting away about one of their past hunts, a rather endearing term they used to mean looking for victims to sell as slaves.

He knocked on the door, and the four inside turned to regard him. The boathouse keeper’s eyes narrowed, and his face turned to a scowl. It was clear that he held no love for Cassa’s kind.

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“Ahoy,” said the boathouse keeper grimly. “What do you want?”

“Uh-ahoy,” stuttered Cassa, his previous confidence suddenly threatening to leave him. “Good party, isn’t it?”

“It was,” replied the boathouse keeper, prompting chuckles from the others.

Cassa knew that was aimed at him, but he reminded himself to focus on the task at hand. He took a step inside and tried to remain composed.

“Ah-ha,” he said, “very good.” Not wanting to appear too weak in front of these elites, he quickly snapped back to what he came here to do. “I was hoping to get the key to the boathouse. You see, I seemed to have misplaced my telescope below deck during our most recent hunt. Would you mind if I get it from you?”

The boathouse keeper sighed and shook his head.

“You won’t get far in this crew makin’ mistakes like that,” he said. “If you forgot something, then just get it tomorrow. You know we’re shipping out the captives then, so what’s your hurry?”

“It’s just that I was hoping to do some stargazing since the stars are out tonight.”

The pirates just laughed in his face. As cool and collected as Cassa had seemed to us, on the inside he was a mess of nerves. He had anticipated this reaction, though, and so did well to hide this nervousness from the pirates before him.

When the pirate elites had finished laughing and slapping each other on the backs, the boathouse keeper returned his attention to Cassa.

“I gotta thank you,” he said, “that was the best thing I’ve heard tonight. But no, no way. Since our main ship is out on a hunt, the smaller one is under lock and key.”

“But sir-” Cassa began.

“Don’t argue with me,” the boathouse keeper interrupted, his voice suddenly dropping to a low and threatening tone. He added, “Get out of here; you’re wasting my time,” before turning his attention back to the guards and continuing their banter from where they had left off.

Cassa didn’t move immediately, but the elites took no notice of him now. He took some time to scan the room and saw his prize, the key, hanging on a hook in the far-left corner of the room.

There was no way he’d be able to get it with them still in the room. If he took one step in any direction other than towards the door, he’d have four very angry pirates doing more than just asking questions. It was then that he decided he was going to have to fall back to his Plan B.

Cassa knew there was no way out of there except for that ship, and he knew there was no way to get to the ship without that key. He also knew this first plan of his had little hope of working. It was a shot in the dark, but it served the purpose of locating the exact location of the key. Actually getting ahold of it would be another issue altogether.

There were not a lot of things that would have gotten that group of pirates out of that room and away from that key. Duty and honour aside, they were having a great time drinking the night away. Whatever it was would need to be big and would need to get them out of there in a hurry, before they had time to even think about the key.