“Baba? What are you doing here?” Sarahne embraced the man regardless of their differences in opinion, “I thought you were preoccupied?”

“I made time for my daughter,” He hugged back, wrapping her in his large, luxurious coat, “It’s been too long, Sarahne.” The real reason for his visit was the fact that he’d a premonition recently, such was his gift. The contents of the premonition were hazy and indistinct, but he knew for sure that his daughter was in the custody of some less than savory characters. So, he did what any good father did, and brought along some extra security.

“This isn’t good,” Paracelsus leaned casually against the wall, keeping his head down, “This place is more guarded than we thought. There’s no way we can pose as security.”

“You don’t think we could sneak in, walk in all cool-like? I know you can bullshit your way through most things.” Serpacinno offered, never taking her hand off her sword.

“Maybe, maybe not,” He replied, “But I doubt all three of you could follow in my performance.”

“So what’s the plan?” Garland chimed in, observing the subsiding storm.

Paracelsus shook a small vial filled with a clear liquid, in which some type of powder dissolved with each time he shook it, “I know the general layout of the tunnels underneath. We sneak through, come up below and behind the main stage, use this little concoction to put the guards to sleep, and we know the plan from there.”

“The man you paid fires his gun in the air, proclaims he’s the real Paracelsus, and we sneak Sarahne away under the pretense that he’s a threat?” Serpacinno clarified, but gave no room to interrupt, “Which assumes that this man makes good on his promise.”

“I’m all ears to alternate plans,” He spread his arms open, gesturing for a response which never came, “Alright then. Let’s go.”

Thus began the enactment of their plan as they crept under the building, ducking and darting around so as to avoid the sentries on patrol. The whole time, the captain kept his thumb over their current location to keep track of where they were. Then, below the main hall, they moved a few yards west to the back, to a back room, and Paracelsus touched the floor, improvising a hole in the stony layer.

“Up we go,” He said, pulling through Serpacinno first, then Tariq before Gareland came up on her own, “Here.” He handed each of them a rag and poured some of the solution over it, “Hold it to someone’s mouth for around ninety seconds and they’ll be out like a light.”

“And how are we supposed to hold it on their face for a whole minute?” Tariq asked - being the least crafty of the group, he was the only one who needed it explained.

“Can’t you literally turn invisible?” Serpacinno asked with some slight contempt in her voice. To be fair to her, it was a stupid question for someone like him.

He nodded, now sure of himself, “And remember,” Paracelsus said, adjusting his belt, “Make sure they don’t fire their guns. One BANG and it’s over.”

They all nodded, and the mood in the room was unsure. In theory, the plan was flawless, but any number of small imperfections would add up to make its surface as rough as sandpaper, and they would be the ones dragged against it. Still, they came this far, and they each slowly crept around, searching for the guards they figured were near the stage. Paracelsus was the first to find his target, and he made quick work of the man’s gun before he took him down and tied him up. Tariq followed suit, opting to snatch the gun first before dousing his mark’s lungs. Third was Serpacinno, who held the blade of a small dirk near her prey’s holster to subdue him. Finally it was Gareland’s turn, and she threw caution to the wind, bringing the rag up first and, using the panicked motion with which her guard had reached for the gun to her advantage, batted his hand away for long enough to knock him out as well.

The four invaders exhaled uneasily, proud in their small victory.

—

“You will not take this ship, not while Hames McGraw yet breathes!” McGraw shouted, bringing his gun to fire at Lorane. She’d just challenged his captaincy, and the price for such an action was known.

He fired, and his marksmanship continued to prove his weakness, as three of the four shots whizzed clean past her, and the fourth only managed to graze her neck.

“Good thing then, that McGraw will die here!” She replied, firing her pistol, and in an almost comically ironic twist of fate, also only managed a grazing blow on his shoulder. She quickly recalled the bullet, though with its weakened velocity, its more assured target in his back was rendered far weaker than what it should’ve been, “To swords, then.”

McGraw made the first move, drawing his long cutlass, the storm he’d conjured raining a bolt of lightning into his sword, sending thunder down the deck, which rippled outward in a circle along the raindrops before climbing the gunwale and finding its terminus in the ocean. He didn’t stop at one swing, and quickly followed it with a series of slashes - clearly the work of an experienced sailor - which Silver could barely contend against. She was steadily pushed toward the remains of the quarterdeck which were still aflame despite the rain.

Stolen novel; please report.

She then dashed toward the door, realizing her inadequacy at close quarters combat would leave her dead, but McGraw was faster, blocking her path. He pushed forward again, trading in the slashes which Silver was barely able to parry with thrusts that Silver had no hope against. The captain smirked, all too eager to end this, and he drove her over to the gunwale, repeating his earlier trick, although the lightning was much more effective at helping him knock her blade into the drink.

“I gotta admit, Silver,” He leaned in close, tauntingly, “Your swordplay could use some work, but it’s better than most novices.” Then he chuckled as he raised the sword above his head and prepared to strike.

Just before he could deliver the finishing blow, however, silver recalled her sword and managed to fully parry her adversary’s, in the process destroying both weapons. Seizing the shock on McGraw’s face, she took a low stance and tackled him straight into the captain’s quarters.

“And I must admit,” She said, taking a few steps away from him now that the rain couldn’t reach them, “You were right about that man. He is quite wealthy.” With the final message delivered, she aimed the unique pistol the aforementioned man gave her, and fired. The effect was immediate and horrifying, as McGraw’s flesh melted off his skin and his screams became a gargled mess. The jet of fire died after some time, and she started a wild, mad chuckle at her victory.

When she stepped over the charred remains of her former captain, she was pleasantly surprised that the men who’d managed to get their wits about them were already loading buckets with sand to douse the fires still on deck. Then, she took a gun from one of the men who were rendered unconscious by the explosion, and aimed it in the air.

—

Bang! A shot rang out, quickly followed by, “Heed my words! Paracelsus von Hoenheim has come!” None of the crew bothered to listen past that, and all got into position.

“Ma’am, we need to leave,” Tariq quickly went to Sarahne and grabbed her shoulder, “Come with us.” In doing so, he caught eyes with Medine, and so he ushered the woman out faster.

“What’s going on?” She asked, “Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t worry, your uh… father, hired us.” He responded, leading her to his party.

“Hello ma’am,” Paracelsus offered his hand, “I’m the real Paracelsus, and I’d like your help.”

—

“It’s confirmed,” Peeares said, “They’re in the building.”

“Excellent,” Graave nodded back and waved his hand, “Men, surround the building! The target is able to pass through walls, so I want every square inch of the structure covered.”

“Lieutenant,” Farah saluted, “Sarabi’s covering the western side. If they slip out through there, she’ll take her shot.”

“Good.”

“And another thing,” She continued, leaning a bit closer so as to conceal their conversation, “I spoke to one of Medine’s aides. About Peeares, I think you should know - Medine’s gift, he can see visions of the future. In one of them, Peeares dies, and soon.”

“Then I suppose we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t come to pass, eh?” And that was what Farah had hoped to hear. The whole reason she’d even signed with his company, Graave’s bullheaded nature that allowed him to fearlessly charge forth into danger.

“Everyone’s in position.” Peeares said. Graave, rather uncharacteristically embraced him in a silent act of inappropriately public affection, and Peeares, characteristically, grumbled and tried to push him off.

Graave nodded after he let go, and the smirk on his face let his protogé know everything he needed to. This whole ordeal would be over soon, and they’d return back to their proper post, far away from this land.

—

“My father is here,” Sarahne argued, “You know you’ll never get away with this.”

“And here Tariq had me thinking you didn’t like your father,” Paracelsus joked as he handed out a few bottles, filled with an orangish powder, “I see that was wrong.”

“You’re not wrong, exactly, but stealing from him? Why would I help with that?” She questioned, with impassioned words.

“The people here are suffering, Sarahne!” He shouted back. It was a farce, for as much as he did feel empathy towards them, he wasn’t planning on leading a full-scale revolution against the Medines or anything, “Suffering because of your father!”

“And what? You’re going to redistribute his wealth?”

“Of course we’re keeping some for ourselves,” He swallowed thickly, “But yes, we’ll be giving away much of it.”

“I’m sorry, I still can’t… help you. Please, return me to my father and I can tell him this was all a misunderstanding.” The first blemish had formed.

“We’re not holding you here,” Paracelsus replied, tossing his gun away, “You’re free to leave - if you can shut your eyes to your people’s suffering.”

“What are the bottles for? Your intentions don’t look peaceful.”

“If I should get ripped from my friends,” He chose his language carefully, trying to appear as sympathetic as carefully, “They’ll need to be able to break in the vault on their own. Concrete, metal, it doesn’t matter - this will burn straight through.”

“Sounds like you don’t need my help.”

“We don’t need you to do anything, if that’s what you mean. We just need you to tell us where it is and its layout.”

“I’m free to go?” Parace nodded, and by the look on her face, she knew the second imperfection was revealing itself, “You are good people - give yourselves up, you won’t be hurt.”

“Fine, but humor me for a moment more?” Sarahne stopped in her tracks, sighed, and turned around to face him, “You’re a good person. Not me.” The others in his group all turned, confused at his strategy, “But it’s not good people that enact change. Allow me to enact change on your behalf - you wouldn’t have had this event today if you thought all was well.” She looked contemplative, but Paracelsus heard the sound of footsteps around them, “Last chance, we’re leaving now.”

Sarahne nodded, somewhat reluctantly, but still she nodded, “Do you have a piece of paper?” Paracelsus pumped his fist as he produced the necessary items. With any luck, this would work out, and he felt hopeful that they might actually do this. Then, once the details were secured, he nudged Sarahne away, firing a shot into the wall behind her to disguise her intentions.

Sarahne immediately ran crying to her father to continue the illusion, and Medine said, “Go - get them!” To his soldiers, quickly hugging her back.

“We have to expedite the plan,” The captain said to his crew, now in the tunnels, “We get what we want today, and then leave.”

The crew nodded. Somehow, despite the misgivings they’d each individually had about him, he had managed to, at least temporarily, win their trust.