It can be fun, swinging on the rigging and leaping from yard to mast. It’s a lot less thrilling when the rope snaps and there’s nothing between you and the solid deck but empty air. I heard there’s a tribe in the Polemic Ocean that makes a sport of jumping from the backs of their flying beasts. Sky-Diving, they call it. You know what I call them? Nutjobs.

-Excerpt from ‘Lessons Learned from a Life at Sea’ by Newt Reeves

Rose thanked the pantheon at large when she landed on the sail and didn’t tear a hole in it. Her weight made it droop instantly and it was only by clinging to the side that she didn’t fly face first into the deck below.

What she hadn’t expected was the speed—Rose accelerated faster than a cannonball being fired and it took some awkward adjustments to prepare for impact.

She flipped herself onto her knees, keeping her toes upturned—that was uncomfortable as heck. Rose shot off the end of the sail and her breath caught in her throat.

Then she grabbed hold of the bottom of the sail and it pulled taut.

Skill up!

Athletics 6 > 7

There was no time to relax—the moment the sail straightened out she started to swing towards the yard in the middle of the mast. Wind rushed past her face as she tore through the air.

A jolt shot through her skeleton as she bent her knees to absorb the impact of slamming into the yard. She had to act fast.

Before gravity could pull her from her precarious perch, she wrapped her thighs around the wooden beam and flicked a rope through the metal ring in the corner of the sail, pulling it tight and tying it off before the wind could reclaim its toy.

Rose afforded herself a single breath to recover before leaping to her feet and sprinting along the yard to the other side, keeping hold of the bottom of the sail as she ran.

Once there, she repeated the process of pulling the sail taut and tying it to the wooden beam. With that, the sails were rigged and the ship was ready to sail.

Skill up!

Sailing 8 > 9

All she wanted was to clamber up to the crow’s nest and sleep the night away under the stars—even if she couldn’t see them through the thick blanket of clouds.

However, the heist was far from over. There were so many variables at play and an innumerable amount of them could go wrong at any moment.

She slid down the mast and sprinted across the deck, then up the wooden steps to the poop deck, where she laid eyes on the wheel.

It would be her first time steering a ship and while she’d observed Captain Bradshawe and Jade at work many a time, she wasn’t sure she was up to the task.

While there had been a few mishaps along the way, Rose had been fortunate. No one had seen her as she slipped her way through the shadows and taking control of the ship had been smooth sailing.

Even the winds whipped up by the explosion worked in her favour—they were blowing away from Highbream and into the open ocean, making her getaway a simple affair. The ship was already on the move and she made minor adjustments to its course as it pulled away from the docks.

A grin crept onto her face, morphing into raucous laughter as she left the rest of the ships behind. “In the name of Sylack, I did it,” she cried with unrestrained glee.

The buildings on the edge of the harbour grew smaller, but her destination wasn’t the Bluestone Sea—not yet. She had a pirate to pick up.

As she went to turn the wheel and travel around the shore of Highbream towards the noble quarter, where Trent had instructed her to collect him, she heard an ear splitting groan and something yanked the ship hard to starboard.

For a moment she thought a sea monster had attacked, but that made little sense—there were no monsters this close to shore. Especially not near a large city like Highbream.

As the ship leaned dangerously towards the water, Rose realised what was happening. The anchor! She cursed her stupidity. It was the first thing to be done when setting sail. In her excitement and haste she’d forgotten to raise it.

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It wouldn’t be difficult to raise it, but there was a huge problem standing in her way.

The moment she left the wheel unattended it would spin with the lean of the ship and point in the polar opposite direction to where she needed to head. Her eyes darted across the poop deck, looking for a thick stick or plank to jam the wheel while she worked—a broom would be perfect.

Alas, fortune no longer favoured her. The deck was empty. She had an idea, but even if it worked it would last for far less time or possibly damage the wheel.

She whipped out the dagger Trent had gifted her on the island—in the convergence—and gave it a kiss on the cold blade before jamming it through the wheel, locking the mechanism in place.

It was a makeshift solution at best. The wheel was already groaning in complaint and pushing against the blade. She had no time to waste.

If Rose hadn’t forgotten about the anchor, she could’ve taken the time to wind the winch and properly raise it before setting sail. Unfortunately, her careless mistake had stolen the luxury of time. There was only one choice left to her.

Rose practically threw herself down the steps onto the main deck and sprinted to the front of the ship, skidding across the polished planks and screeching to a halt right above where the anchor was connected.

Jumping over the edge, she grabbed hold of the deck with her good hand and reached for her dagger with the other.

The dagger which she’d used to lock the wheel in place.

Slicing the rope would have been the easiest way to lose the anchor and free the ship from its chains—instead she would have to blast it to pieces.

“Downright genius of me to carry two weapons,” she grumbled to herself while pulling the flintlock pistol from her belt and cocking the hammer.

Crashing waves, whistling wind and even the throbbing in her palm faded as Rose stared down the iron sights, lining them up with the shifting rope. This would be the trickiest shot she’d ever had to make, at a rapidly moving target with only one chance at success.

All thoughts drifted from her mind as she inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs and stilling any unnecessary movements. The tunnel narrowed.

Skill up!

Focus 12 > 13

Even the splashing of the tide couldn’t distract her. Click. The hammer slammed shut and the pistol roared its fury to the open ocean. The tang of gunpowder revitalised her—she loved the burn. Rose grinned as her ears filled with splashes.

Her hand almost slipped from the deck as the ship was flung upright, no longer pulled towards the sea bed by the trailing anchor. Instead she was flung back over the side of the railings and tumbled across the main deck, giggling and wincing in equal measure.

Skill up!

Precision 2 > 3

Skill up!

Precision 3 > 4

Skill up!

Pistols 7 > 8

“There has to be a way to lump the level-ups together. The splashing of the whorls is comforting, but it can be overwhelming too.” Rose clambered to her feet, refilled the powder in her pistol, and then tucked it back into her waistband.

One never knew when they’d need to be prepared to shoot. She sprinted back up to the poop deck and pulled her dagger from the wheel after gripping it tight with her good hand.

It revolted against her control but she soon wrestled it into submission. The spoke she’d thrust the blade against was only a little chipped and her dagger only a little bent.

After a little battle with the wheel, The Crown of Salt was back on track and heading right for the towering cliffs which the noble quarter was built upon.

Supposedly only having to defend your castle from three sides was better than four, but Rose thought differently—it was one less direction to escape in when the common folk rose in revolt.

Life on land was too complicated. There were far too many rules and expectations. Life at sea was dangerous—outright lethal at times, but Rose craved the freedom it offered.

Standing on the deck of her stolen ship; her pirate ship, Rose revelled in the wind blowing through her hair.

***

The Highcliffs of Derridas loomed like an executioner’s blade. They seemed far closer than they were—it had taken twenty minutes to sail the distance.

Dark waters concealed vicious rocks and reefs that would tear the keel and hull to pieces if she dared venture near. Trent had promised she wouldn’t need to stray too close to the cliffs.

He had been rather lax on the specifics of his plan and Rose wondered how he hoped to make it from the city above to the ship below.

From here, the inferno blazing in the city was clearer than ever. The explosion had only been the beginning of a tragedy for Highbream. This night would be forever remembered among the citizens. An orange glow bathed the black waters of the bay, flickering gently.

A shadow stole the light—a shadow in the shape of a man. Rose looked up to the cliff’s edge. Surely not…

In the black of night it was hard to distinguish objects from one another, but with the vivid light of the inferno Rose could just about see a shadowy figure sprinting along the edge of the cliffs, towards the very tip.

And he wasn’t alone. At least five others trailed behind him and she saw the odd flash of light—gunfire. All she could do was watch and pray as the man leapt from the cliffs and plummeted towards her.