"Well, that was a bust," said Ross as he turned and snatched the bottle of wine out of Patrick's hand. He sighed deeply, "Maybe there's something else we can do. Maybe that fancy butler has a secret alcohol problem. Wonder if he'll take bribery. No, that won't do. He's probably free to siphon off the Mayor's wine cellar without much worry, that is if he's any good at his job."

"What should we do now?" Patrick asked. The guards had given him back Milton who was still sleeping off the effects of the tranquilizers.

The Admiral smashed the head of the bottle on the nearest lamp post and picked up any shards hanging around the bottle opening. He then opened his mouth and poured the entire contents of the bottle down his throat, consuming it in one swift motion. Some rancor notwithstanding, he then tossed the bottle back towards the Mayor's mansion and watched as it shattered against the cobblestones.

"What we're going to do is keep going. That was a very illuminating experience," said Ross.

"But we were kicked out. The Mayor is not very happy with us."

"Don't waste thought on what bureaucrats and politicians feel, boy. It poisons and corrodes the mind." Ross exuded happiness, seemingly intoxicated by his own giddiness.

Soon after, they made their way back to the beer-drinking district of the town. Patrick, although trying very hard, was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. After all, it had been a very eventful night. He wondered how close it was to sunrise.

The celebrations at the inn had simmered down to the odd random yell and even the angriest and the drunkest were done with their brawls. The Admiral decided to sit down on the curb, shimmying under a tree, keeping the inn and all the surroundings in his sights. He patted the ground next to him. "Get some rest. You look like you're about to pass out and flatten that dog. Would be a waste of the money I paid that rude doctor, and you know how I hate waste."

"Yes, sir." Patrick mumbles. He sat down, leaning back against the tree, and before he knew it, he was asleep. His dreams were of the old house back in Livingston. In the dream, he imagined the smell of freshly baked bread that his grandfather had gotten before Patrick would come down from his room for breakfast. He would find the old man sipping at his tea, and buttering a piece of bread, humming to himself.

Patrick woke up to a slight pain in his shin, and a dog barking excitedly. Milton was running around, stopping suddenly then going right back to the beginning, only to do it all again.

Meanwhile, the Admiral was lightly kicking Patrick's leg to get him to wake up.

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"I said you can rest, not hibernate," Ross said with a tone of reproach. "You'd do well to teach yourself the soldier's sleep. The way you do it, you might wake up with a new breathing slit in your neck."

From the look of things, it was the earliest of mornings, with the sun barely peeking from between the houses, sending a sharp and unkind light over the town.

The Admiral held his fist above Patrick's head and looked at him expectantly.

"What?" Patrick asked.

"Open your hand boy."

Patrick did so, and Ross released a dozen gold coins into his hand, with a few spilling on the grass.

"What are these for?" he asked.

"Go to the Traveler's Finger and rent us a room in the back. I saw that they have stairs leading to an addition at the back of the inn. I don't want to be seen coming and going by every patron of the inn, got it?"

"The Traveler's Finger, sir? Isn't it called Explorer's Folly?"

"Whatever the lower hells it's called, go rent a room. Then find-- Pay attention, boy." The Admiral snapped as Patrick's eyes kept going to the dog. "Next, you're going to find the First Mate. Tell her to sober up our people and get them ready for a fight. After that, she must come to the room and wait for me there."

"You're leaving?" Patrick asked when he saw Ross checking at the hidden knife in his boot, and patting the handle of his pistol.

"Weren't you listening, dolt? I'll be back. Don't fail me." And then he left, vanishing between two houses.

Milton jumped in Patrick's arms as soon as the Admiral left, yapping happily. Patrick scratched the dog between the ears until he calmed down and then left to do the Admiral's bidding.

Ross walked through the buildings when he could, eliciting to walk through the side streets and little-used alleys, trying to avoid any watching eyes, wherever they may be or if they even existed in the first place.

Reaching the marketplace, Ross entered the heavy stream of people going about their business. He had ditched his heavily decorated coat behind a few wayward crates in an alley he had passed. Rolling up the sleeves of his faded earth tone shirt, Ross now looked almost like any other laborer. The only exception was the lines on his navy issue pants, the ends of which he hurriedly shoved into his boots.

Ross stayed alert, using his tall frame to carve his way through the farmers and shop owners that made up the crowd. They were coming from all over the little cluster of islands. He slithered between some stands and bought fruit from one of the vendors, all the while inquiring where he might find the higher quality produce.

Animals made their noises, the humans whipping them busy cursing, the vendors bleating the price of their wares. Ross wondered how anyone could hear each other enough to finish a transaction. By all accounts, the whole business was just a terrible ordeal.

A wave of dust kicked up by the traffic, and carried by the wind fell onto the street, coating the Admiral's hair and clothes. He choked and began coughing, hating the place all the more. The heat was beginning to become a problem as well, in the cramped space, Ross' shirt sticking to his spine, and sweat falling constantly in his eyes.

But as he kept going, it all cleared, with the stands and the people both donning better quality apparel.

After that, it was not long until Ross found his prey. The butler waddled as he walked, eyes dropping and skin clammy. It was obvious the man had not gotten much sleep. His drowsy gait was followed by a few of the mayor's guards and Ross smiled and hoped desperately the winds of fortune were about to shift in his favor.