image [https://i.imgur.com/JEkIn7K.png]

When Ye ol’ Marigold weighed anchor in Squal Parlor, Captain Valgur descended to the dock with a few crewmen in tow. They had been blown off course by a squal en route to a remote island in the Far Reaches. Captain Alcatran's territory, and so Valgur was wary. Still, he was not so known yet as to rouse too much unwanted attention. He walked out into the port town's meandering streets. He bade his men fan out and report to him anything of note, good or ill. Valgur did his own surveying. As his eyes passed over the denizens, many kept from looking at him. They were well averse to whatever cruelty could come at the hands of the free men who fared the seas.

Valgur rounded the bend of an alley and made his way back to the pier. There was a fruit stand there, and he saddled up to it. "Morn," he said, and his smile a glint of gold. The owner was a middle aged woman. She smiled weakly, nodded, then hurriedly looked away. Valgur found a ripe peach and passed her a copper piece for it. He took a bite. "Delicious”

The shopkeeper busied herself to clean something and didn't reply. Then, Valgur spied something in his periphery. It was as if one of the mangoes was levitating. He turned to see the flash of color, attached to a small hand, disappear around the corner of the cart. Valgur wheeled around and grabbed the wrist of a small boy, only nine or ten years old, as he made to dash past him, fruit still in hand.

"At it again, are ya," said the shopkeep, shaking her first angrily. Valgur glanced back at her, a wry grin on his face.

"Not a worry ma’rm, I got him for you." The boy wriggled in his grasp. Valgur applied pressure, and he stopped squirming. He peered down to inspect the boy. He was a dirty and disheveled lad with worn shoes and clothes that were torn in places. He had dark hair, a hooked nose, and dark brown eyes. His shoes weren’t too bad, though, Valgur noticed. He looked to the fruit in the boy’s left hand. Part of the ring finger was missing. "What's this? A guilty little thief you are, indeed. Tell me, do you cut off fingers here for thievery?"

"No, and not that I’d ever have them remove a finger for taking a mango. Seems a bit harsh,” said the shopkeep as dignified as she could. “Still, young as he is, he's notorious in these parts. It was a cruel thing, but someone had a mind to."

"I see," said Valgur, turning back to the boy. There was a challenging look on his face, a sort of stubborn self-reliance that made him seem older than he was. Valgur could see how that would make weak men angry.

"I'll tell you what, m’arm," said Valgur. "Here's another piece for the mango." He flicked her another coin. "I'll pay for whatever else he grabs. Do you want another, boy?"

The boy frowned and furrowed his brow. He didn't move nor reply. "What's your name," said Valgur. Again, no reply. "If I unhand you, will you run away?" No reply.

Ahead of them, a crewman approached. "Metron. Look who I found here. See that? Missing a finger,” said Valgur.

“Yeah? Well that’s the most interesting thing I’ve heard. This whole island’s full of a whole lot of nothing. Nothing even worth robbing. All’s good here is the booze. No wonder it wasn’t on the map, all that comes through here is the squals.”

“Booze ye say? That can still be mighty interesting,” said Valgur, twinkling.

“Ye don’t say,” said Metron, and he parted his coat to reveal an amber bottle tucked into its side.

Valgur grinned. “A good haul then. Round the men. We’ll cast off immediately.”

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“So what about the boy?”

“Something tells me this young scallywag could be of interest. Listen, I just want to talk to you, savvy? I’ll let ye go, but you choose to run and Metron here will be forced to chase you. He's an able hunter and a keen shot, so I wouldn’t risk it. So are you gonna get frisky, or no?"

The boy glanced at Metron, then back at Valgur, and shook his head, still scowling. Valgur bent down to eye level. "Excellent. Now I have a proposition for ye, laddy. Listen close. You've been on the streets long enough to look it, and your reputation here is already sour. How you choose to grow up is your business, but let me tell you the truth of it. Y’can stay here and rot like the fruit you stole. Or, y’can come with me ‘n sail the seas a free man, buy a life that’s yours. The choice is yours. Answer me truthfully, and I'll let you go whichever way you choose." Valgur smiled in as gentle a manner as he could, which made him look rather demented.

"Wait a minute, cap'n, taking on a child like this? What are we, an orphanage? Even my auntie would have-"

"Well blast your auntie and your whole ilk, mate. This kid has ‘n art for thieving and the scars to prove it. And who knows what else. I see great potential here. I'd like to give him his start. Whadd’ye say, kid? Listen, I know where they cut fingers off for thieving, and it ain’t here. But I know where. I can find the man that did this to ye. Just give me a name."

The boy pondered it for a while. He looked at Valgur and Metron with an even mixture of hope and doubt. The boy glanced down at his hand and the orange within it. His gaze lingered on the nub of a ring finger on his left hand. The face of Mister Goffrey with his bulbous nose flashed across his mind, and the boy nearly shuddered.

He glanced around the pier, and then back behind him at the town of Squal Parlor. He remembered all the lonely days by the pier, staring out at the waters. Then an old fisherman popped into his mind. He thought he could see Oyster’s kindly face remarking him from out on the waters of the bay.

He went back further in his memory and remembered the night in the tavern, recalling the pale blue eyes of captain Coldblue and his crew of merry men. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Or maybe it was always just a dream. Those were free men, too. They were illustrious, glistening in their finery, adorned with the vigor of life, the thrill of adventure coursing through them. These men were not the same picture of grandeur.

The boy cast an inspecting eye on Captain Valgur, who looked more like a gruff, shaggy barrel of a man than the captain of a ship. The man’s hair was beginning to thin atop his head, but his beard was thick and broad in fanning curls. Everything about the man was broad, from his forehead and forearms, chest and belly. Broad and strong. And his eyes were as wily as a wolf’s, keen and dangerous. He wore a large overcoat that swept down past his knees atop worn leather boots. There was no jewelry about him, no glint of metal save the hilt of his sword at his waist.

Beside Valgur was Metron, a tall, slender oak of a man with a quiet strength. The stubble on his face grew close and he had short, cropped hair the color of mud. His eyes were intense and observant, and they bore holes into the boy’s head. He, too, wore an overcoat that came down only to his waist with long breeches and tall boots. A rifle was slung about his back, which had kept the boy from running in the first place.

These men were dangerous. It was that same sense of danger that urged Picaro to follow Captain Coldblue and his men down to the docks that time ago. The boy looked out at the sea again. A sigh escaped him. He thought he could still see the small image of Oyster out there on the bay, a lone fisherman in his skipper. It seemed for a moment the man was beckoning to him. All around the sea and gulls called. It looked like freedom, the same as it always had. The wild blue yonder, the crystal pearl. The way to nowhere, and everywhere. It all fell upon him like a wave. The opportunity was before him. He bit his lip, and nodded.

"What's that mean lad, will ye come and be a free man?" The boy nodded again. Valgur barked a laugh. "Well, I'll be. This wasn’t a waste after all. Ye ‘Ol Marigold's crew grew by one this day. Have at it, kid, take another mango."

Valgur passed a whole silver piece to the shopkeep, who stood with her mouth ajar. A part of her wanted to warn the child against the decision. But he was still a nuisance among the merchants, and his life would likely fair none too better if he stayed. She turned her eyes away when the boy looked at her again.

"So, what's yer name?" Valgur asked.

The boy took the second orange and stared at them as if they were gold. "Picaro," he said, and looked up at his new captain.