“Tea?” The mayor asked, gesturing to the cup on the table. Paracelsus found himself seated very near to a soapbox the mayor had either just stepped down from or was preparing to step on.

“Thank you, Miss Mayor,” He sipped the tea, “Madame Mayor, I meant.”

“No problem,” She replied cheerily, in the way only a public servant could fake, “But to the matter at hand - Do you know a man named Lonceré Domingue?”

He sipped his tea again in thought. He considered lying briefly, but decided it would probably be best to stay on her good side, “That’s an understatement. We worked together for three years.”

“Oh? That’s good to hear,” She leaned in closer, a wicked smile on her pale visage, “So you wouldn’t happen to know where he is?”

“No idea,” He lied, surmising the mayor’s intentions were probably less than friendly, “Of course I’d like to see him, but I was hoping you knew how.”

The glowing one immediately snapped his view to Paracelsus after that, and his gaze remained firm on the captain, analyzing the veracity of his statement.

“That’s a shame,” Montpellier said, eyeing her friend’s gaze, “Of course, there’s a reward if you do come across him.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” Paracelsus said, standing up, “And thank you for the tea.”

Once he was out of earshot, the mayor curled her fingers to bid Copain come closer, and she whispered in his ear, “I’m convinced. Follow him.”

The captain of course knew their intentions. It was painfully obvious they were going to make him give up Lonceré’s location, one way or another. So, once he was far enough away from the stage, he broke off into a sprint, only occasionally throwing a look over his shoulder to see if he was still being pursued. When it became obvious there was no outrunning the entity, he ducked into an alleyway. There, he used all the strength he could muster, pushing through the immense pain in his chest to transform the brick walls on either side of the street so that they formed another wall, covering him from view.

Secure in his own privacy, he leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the ground, trying desperately to force the pain away. The wound had technically closed, but it was so easily-agitated that even the slightest contraction or stretch of his torso, or use of his gift, was enough to send him reeling.

It made him feel helpless.

He huffed and puffed for what felt like hours, but in reality, must’ve only been a few minutes before the pain finally subsided. He stood back up, thankful he had already made hand-holds he could use to climb over the wall instead of forcing his way back out.

“This will go much easier if you cooperate,” Copain, who was waiting on the other side, informed, “Otherwise, I will be forced to arrest you.”

He weighed his options. Flight probably wasn’t an option - Copain, whatever he was, seemed to not tire, fighting in his condition was probably impossible, and as much as he trusted his gift of gab, he wasn’t going to fabulate his way out of it. Just as he pondered a fake surrender, he was saved, seemingly, by the street falling into a pitch-black darkness which blotted out the street.

“Come with us!” Someone shouted in the darkness. It was accompanied by a gloved hand piercing through the inky black and pulling Paracelsus by the wrist, “What’s your name, friend?” After being extricated from the dark, he found himself in the company of a man and a woman, both dressed in rather unassuming clothes, running away from their creation, which hopefully still contained Copain.

“Just call me Ellis,” He lied, matching their pace, “Who are you?”

“We’re part of the resistance,” The man said, “Any enemy of his is a friend of ours.”

—

Tariq walked through the streets, nervous. Nervous, mostly, at being on his own; he’d grown too accustomed to the company of the Current’s crew and now found himself uncharacteristically lonely.

He also had evidently stumbled into the wrong part of town, or right, depending on how you looked at it. There was, at just about every yard along the street, another whore looking to swindle anyone out of their money. He certainly would’ve been an easy target, a young man with no experience and (thanks to Serpacinno selling the treasure they’d stolen) a hefty purse, were it not for his firm resolve to complete the objective he’d been assigned.

A resolve which was quickly melting away, as a woman came up to him and wrapped her delicate, slender arm around his chest, “Tell me, what’s such a handsome man doing all by himself?”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“I’m…” He sputtered, his mind trying to come up with a response, “Just, uh…” He continued faltering, his forehead sweating profusely as she snaked her arm upward, “Out for a walk.”

“Oh?” She put her other hand on her lips, a scandalous expression on her face, “I don’t suppose I could convince you to come with me?”

“No, sorry, I -” He balked when he saw the Peeares, although he didn’t know the angel’s name, also making conversation with a woman of the night. He immediately disappeared, cloaking himself and dashing off, as far away from the marine as he could.

When he finally stopped, dropping the invisibility, he realized he was lost. He’d run so fast, and with no sense of direction that he was completely misplaced. He probably looked mad, snapping his head rapidly in all directions, trying to find his way back to the port. He considered asking for directions, but he didn’t want to add to his insane image, so he took off again, in a direction that felt right.

Luck be a lady, He thought, and his prayers were answered. The port was indeed in the direction he’d gone running, and the Current’s repairs were already underway, with shoremen pulling up the mainmast.

“Hello!” He hailed, stepping on the gangway, “Or, hoy!” He corrected with a wave.

“Hoy?” One of them, probably the boss, asked, more than said, “Have you business on the ship?”

He produced the share from his pocket, “I’m the helmsman,” He stated plainly, “Just here to grab something for the captain.”

“Apologies, sir,” The assumed boss replied, “Just wanted to confirm.”

Tariq just gave him a half-hearted wave as he went to work, recalling the instructions. Something about the mainmast and being “abaft” it. He turned over his shoulder, “Excuse me, do any of you know what ‘abaft’ means?”

“In front.” One of them replied, without taking his eye off the job.

Tariq gave him his silent gratitude before stepping in front of the mast and counting out three steps. Was it three steps, He wondered, Or three planks? He decided on both, taking the first plank his third step landed at, and the third one that also could’ve been the answer. Now it was just a matter of getting back without detection.

He actually felt pretty satisfied with himself, even if he had lost his cool temporarily, this mission had gone with no major hitches, “Hello, helmsman.”

It was the Taylor woman, that much he recognized. “Hello -” He left his jaw hanging open, trying to conjure a retort, before he limply gave up the prospect.

“Who do you think you are?” She marched towards him with all the anger of a sea-captain freshly marooned, “Waltzing about here like a free man.”

“I am a free man,” He replied, “You failed to arrest me in Iralo, and I know you can’t do anything to me here.”

Taylor clicked her tongue in annoyance and licked her teeth for a similar reason, “That’s true,” She conceded, “But I’m warning you - The Lieutenant will find your captain, and he’ll arrest him.” She saw the taller man start to speak, and cut him off, “If you feel wronged by that, petition for his release. I’m sure the courts will see it your way.”

Taylor felt cocksure after that, even going as far as smirking and crossing her arms over her chest, before Tariq replied, “Should I remind you Captain is a higher rank than Lieutenant? I very much doubt he’ll get caught.”

Taylor pointed angrily at him, but took a deep breath, “No, no, I’m not doing this,” The smug look on Tariq’s face certainly made it hard, though, “I’m a marine, I’m better than this.” She resumed pointing at him as she walked away, “But be warned - Lieutenant Graave will catch Paracelsus. You can count on it.”

Yes, Tariq thought, nodding confidently at nothing as the marine walked away, I must look like a lunatic.

—

“What’s so fuckin’ important?” Serpacinno asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“I like this feisty side of you,” Sally flirted, much to the other woman’s irritation, “But seriously, does there need to be a reason?”

“If you’re gonna be evasive, I’m leaving.” She turned around, unwilling to waste any more time.

“Sorry, sorry,” The fencer apologized, “Here, consider this,” She reached into her mouth and pulled out a tooth. She folded it open, and took out a small diamond, which she affixed to a band she kept in another tooth, “A declaration of my intention.”

“You’ve already declared your intention,” The first mate scoffed, brushing her off, “I’m not interested.”

“At least come to the gala tomorrow?” She asked, grabbing Serpacinno’s hands, “Give me your answer then.”

Serpacinno wanted to shout that she’d already given her answer, but it seemed Sally ran away as fast as possible, leaving a trail of dust in her wake. So instead, she just stood there blankly, thinking: What the fuck?

—

“LJ!” Gareland put her hand over her chest, startled at the tapping on her shoulder.

“Gareland!” A tall, skinny man greeted her. He was a hybrid, bearing a strong resemblance to a particularly melanistic fox, with red and black ears, standing tall and proud, which framed his more vulpine head. He quickly wrapped his arms around the fairy in a hug.

“Don’t think I can’t feel that,” Gareland said, producing a small flip-knife she kept on her person - her sword having been left on the ship in favor of discretion, “Retract your claws, mutt. You might kill me, but I’ll spill your intestines on the ground.”

As the words left her mouth, she heard a snarl and had to hold back one of her own. This was the Gareland she tried to hide from the others. The one that made her feel small and helpless, unworthy of the help others tried to offer.

Eventually the fox relented, with a “Sorry, Gareland. I was just excited to see you again.”

“Don’t lie, Lorenzo,” She addressed Junior, “Why are you here? And why did you wait until I was alone?”

“Do you think anyone would know if you died in this backwater little nowhere?” He asked casually, picking something from his teeth.

“I think you’re more than welcome to try,” Her hand was shaking as a dark miasma pooled at her feet, licking at her face, “Or are you frightened?”

“No, no,” He chuckled, and the miasma seemed to dissipate in the street as he walked away, “It’s just a little too public for my tastes.”

“I’ll watch my back,” She warned, “You better watch yours.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He waved over his shoulder, “As the Cartesians say - au revoir.”

And then, he disappeared into the crowd. Despite his unusual appearance, he had an uncanny talent for hiding out amongst people. But what concerned her more was the question of how he knew where she was. It was a no brainer why he was here - he’d always been jealous of the bond she shared with their adopted father. But he hardly ever left Morellone, let alone been all the way to Cartesia, at least as far as Gareland knew.

I have to go to bed early tonight, She thought, after her heart stopped sounding like a war drum, I have church first thing tomorrow.