“Paracelsus!” Graave shouted at the top of his lungs, “Surrender now, and I give you my word no harm will come to you!”

“You know,” Paracelsus bought time as his party’s carriage approached the blockade the marines made in the road, “I think, in another life -” He aimed a large, heavy tube directly at them, “We’d be drinking buddies.”

Immediately, a spout of liquid flame erupted from the makeshift cannon, and the orange liquid shot in ropes to engulf the blockade in its heat. The effect was pronounced, as the two carriages in the middle instantly sat about removing themselves from the line of fire, with the marines themselves quickly abandoning the vehicle as it became clear the cart would soon be cinders.

“Fire at will!” Graave shouted in response. The soldiers followed the command, and the two sides traded volley after volley of musket-fire as Paracelsus’ crew managed to get past the blockade. This didn’t come without sacrifice however, as the spokes on their cart were shot through without their knowledge and Serpacinno was grazed in the temple - thus rendered inoperable for the time being. Their reward? Gareland, being the only one truly competent with a gun at range, had managed to hit three marines.

“This is gonna hurt, alright?” Paracelsus poured a bit of alcohol on the wound before dressing it and resuming suppressive fire. She groaned something fierce in response, like a large predator realizing it’s broken its leg. The legs of the camels on the marines’ carts were not broken, however, and summarily gave chase to the criminals, though their increased occupancy meant they were slower by a small amount.

“Ms. Taylor, if you’d be so kind.” Graave handed her some white tablets, which she took without complaint and with a salute to knock herself out. Her hypnotized, the air around their carriage stirred as the speed picked up significantly, with the marines now gaining steadily on their mark.

“So that’s how they do it?” Paracelsus remarked, readying his gun once more to deter the soldiers.

Graave was swifter than Paracelsus gave him credit for, and certainly swifter than his large body would seem to indicate; he jumped onto their carriage and drew his sword, pointing it towards the alchemist.

“Everyone, keep firing at the carriage,” Parcelsus commanded as he barely managed to deflect a slash from Graave’s cutlass, “With Serpacinno incapacitated, I’ll try to fight this one.”

“Oh please,” Graave added his paws to the mix, keeping one hand on his cutlass and the other slicing with his claws, “You must know how outmatched you are here. I have decades on you, son.”

Paracelus didn’t feel the need to dignify that with a response, instead opting to fully go for the defense. He used every trick he could think of, starting with creating serrations of the back of his sword - which Graave saw through and changed the angle of his slash - to forming a net to try and capture him - which the lieutenant simply rendered with his claws and teeth - to sweeping his legs, which to be fair, could have worked, were it not for the fact that Graave’s legs were much stronger than he could’ve anticipated.

The bearman even had the time to reach down and grab Tariq by the neck, dangling him over the road. Paracelus tried to get back with his sword, but the decades of experience were clearly overwhelming him, “Well, Paracelsus? No gun?” Graave taunted, “This proves my suspicions. You aren’t going to kill me. And If you can’t kill me,” He made a motion like he was about to drop the young man, “You have no leverage here.”

Meanwhile, a shot rang out from below, which wouldn’t be shocking, all things considered, save for the fact that the shot was now accompanied by a hole in Graave’s shoulder, the same one that was holding the sword, “Dammit, deal with him, Paracelsus!”

So, with the sword dropped, Paracelsus turned his own sword into a club and put his whole strength behind one final blow to the head. As soon as Graave fell, Paracelsus leapt into a prone position to catch Tariq and pull him back up, “Feel any regrets yet?”

“I was scared,” Tariq rubbed his throat, “I won’t lie. But I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” The captain replaced his gun, “Because we still have a while to go.”

“Actually,” Serpacinno groaned, leaning on her elbows to get up, “It seems like they gave up.” With the minor victory, everyone in the carriage leaned back and let spill a sigh of relief.

“Well that explains how they’re able to beat us,” Paracelsus was the first to break the silence, “That woman speeds things up while she’s asleep.” He gave a sort of squeaking laugh, like he was starting to realize the futility of flight.

“So, now will you tell me about Tyburn?” Gareland interrupted his cynical laughing fit.

Paracelsus, for his part, managed to calm himself down, even though all eyes were now on him, “On the current. Let’s call it motivation to survive.”

“This fuckin’ headache’s gonna kill me,” Sepracinno used the ball of her hand to rub her temples, “That bullet got me good,” She lifted one of the snakes near her crown, “Even cut up Shirley.”

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“Sorry, I must have not -” Paracelsus stopped, partway through applying another bandage, “Shirley?”

She pointed at each snake in sequence, “Shirly, Curley, Whirley, Pearly, Burly, Hurley, and Early.”

“Not good at naming things, eh?” Tariq asked.

“Oh, shut up.” Serpacinno threw her arm over her eyes to hopefully rest before they had to get to the ship.

—

“I’ll be fine!” Graave groaned and tossed over on his side, “We need to chase them!”

“How are they always ahead of us?” Peeares finished wrapping the wound, and roughly tied it off.

“He’s not ahead of us -” Graave groaned, brushing his junior off, “He just knows how to come up from behind.”

“So?” Peeares asked, “Are we going to stop them?”

“Are we going to stop them?” Graave actually managed to chuckle, even if it caused him no shortage of pain, “They have to leave by boat. There’s no way they can board without our permission.” A permission they certainly would never grant, “Alright, listen up! Me, Peeares and Taylor will take two of the seamen and pursue the criminals.” He turned to address one man in specific, “Ensign, tally the casualties and damages and follow immediately afterwards.”

So, with a salute, they were off. The hypnotics hadn’t worn off yet, so they were able to resume their course at a great speed; with any luck they’d be back in the city soon. Luck, Graave thought, That’s what it always seems to come back to.

—

Luck, it would seem, was not on the side of Paracelsus. The Current was currently occupied by a number of marines, no less than twelve, but no greater than twenty, and the main deck was constantly watched. Even from their slight vantage point on the outskirts of the city, there was no chance of taking them all down from a range, and with the sheer number, attacking the ship head on would be suicide. And all of that wasn’t even considering the fact that Sarabi still sat on her perch, watching for the exact moment they tried.

Still, they had to get back to it. The Current was their only way out, and Paracelsus reluctantly knew who could help. So, he took his crew to a small harbor, the same one he was at earlier, and waved the flag of parley.

“Oh, Paracelsus, good to see you!” Silver shouted, having her crew lower the corvus, “Come aboard!”

“SIlver,” He hailed, “How fortuitous.”

“I knew you’d be back,” She replied, “Marines in the harbor, something’s not normal. It all has to do with you, doesn’t it? You and your merry little crew?”

“Yes,” He pointed to them, “Serpacinno, first mate: Gareland: chief gunner, and Tariq: helmsman.”

“Quite an odd selection of crewmen to bring aboard for a parley. No vanguard?”

“At the moment, we are the entirety of our enterprise.”

“That does make sense, with everything I’ve learned,” She put her hand to her chin, clearly formulating some scheme, “What brings you here?”

“We need your help,” He produced some cigarettes from his coat, handing one to Silver, “Our ship is currently overrun by marines, and we obviously need to take it back.”

“Tough, then,” Silver took a long draw from the cigarette, “Not much you can do against marines when they’ve got your ship.”

“We can get them off the ship, I need some help afterwards.” He left it unsaid that in doing so, they were keeping a promise they’d made.

“And what’s in it for me?”

“You clearly have something in mind.”

“It’s painfully obvious you’re searching for something. The small crew, so as to split the booty fewer-ways, the discretion with which you’re handling it, and most importantly: the fire in your eyes, captain.”

Paracelsus chuckled; the first time anyone called him captain since his desertion, and it happened to be someone he couldn't stand, “You’re right. I’m looking for something of great importance. Help our interests, and we’ll cut you in.”

“No, no, no, captain,” Lorane took a step closer, and Paracelsus realized she was actually around half an inch taller than him, “I need more details than that.”

“It’s all speculative, but I believe there’s a legendary sword somewhere in Tanendille,” He offered, “I believe with the right buyer - it might fetch as much as ten thousand international dollars.”

“Well now you’re boring me,” She blew smoke in his face, “That's a preposterous claim, and I assume you have nothing to substantiate it?”

“Nothing to substantiate it?” He scoffed, and pulled an old, stained piece of parchment out of his coat, which depicted a long, straight sword, “Verify it however you like.”

Silver verified it by giving it a simple once-over, and Paracelsus knew he’d got her on the hook when he saw her eyes widen, her pupils filling and practically turning to dollar signs in anticipation, “You’ve got it, Paracelsus. You get the marines on land, and we’ll take them down.”

They sealed the deal with a handshake, and Paracelsus took leave with his crew to work on their side of the plan. Before he could fully enact it, Serpacinno grabbed his shoulder, “Is there really such a sword?”

The captain rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry with his lips, “Not that I know of. Don’t worry - I plan to deal with Silver before we arrive in Tanendille.”

“Well, how are we getting the marines off the Current?” She asked.

Paracelsus pointed to the sky, “We’re going to keep our promise to Sarahne, and do some wealth redistribution, and we’re going to do it with balloons. Your jackets, everyone.”

Everyone quickly complied, and he turned the jackets into a dozen small balloons, each tied to a small basket, which the crew filled around half of the gold and treasure they found in Medine’s vault. All balloons filled, they lit the wool, and the hot air produced from such a reaction caused the balloons to lift into the air, flying high above the city streets.

“Gareland,” The captain handed her a musket, holding the others in reserve, “Shoot the baskets, if you will.”

“Aye aye, captain.” She replied before taking fire. Once one musket was shot, Paracelsus handed her another, until finally all the baskets were shot through, and the wealth rained from the sky down to the streets below.

“Back in the day,” Tariq said, “Making it rain gold would have made you a king.”

“Now it makes you a criminal,” Gareland said, “Times have changed.”

It took less than thirty seconds from Gareland’s words to the very first of the citizens stuffing gold into their purse. And once the first person started, he was quickly joined by another, and another, and another until the streets were inundated with folks trying to strike it rich. It wasn’t long after that, that through his spyglass, Paracelsus confirmed that marines had evacuated his ship.

Now came the time for Silver to follow through.