Slap!
The sponge maiden looked at Delilah in shock, a red handprint forming on her face. She almost started wailing like a child, but Delilah didn’t give her the chance, “You harlot! Are you trying to incur my captain’s wrath?”
Tears welled in her eyes as she held the growing bruise on her face, “I don’t care who it is! I’ll take out anyone that hurts Donny!” She went for a right hook this time and Cira caught it.
“What was so great about him?” She asked nonchalantly, “That guy sucked.”
“No…” She looked between Cira and her wounded… employer? “You killed him?!”
“Oh no, he’s still alive,” She showed her palms like she was innocent of something, “I guess he still sucks. Do you three work for him or something? I don’t really get what’s going on here. Are you perhaps women of the night? Did I crash some sort of pirate stage performance?”
She couldn’t comprehend what she saw upon entry. The man was stabbed multiple times and beat up to all hell, but he somehow lived and made it back home in time to welcome Cira completely naked with three similarly clothed women bathing him. It could have made a little more sense to her if there weren’t a hundred of his lackeys all hanging out in the same room.
Delilah was just as confused but gawked at Cira’s increasingly terrible string of guesses.
“What?!” The women were infuriated, “You’re way off base, Lady! We don’t work for him, we’re Don’s sponge maidens!”
She said the words proudly with her hands on her hips, proclaiming it as if it proved something profound. Cira noticed the other two now walked over wearing smug grins.
“That’s right, and don’t you—” The most well-endowed one tried to give Cira sass but continuing was not yet possible.
“No, no, no… Back up.” Cira held up a finger to silence them, “What the hell is a sponge maiden? Jimbo, is that a thing?”
“It was a Don thing,” Jimbo shook his head, “He had… proclivities.”
“I’m not going to pretend to know what that means but I think I understand enough.” She turned to the three with sympathetic eyes, “You poor girls… “
“Hey!” The first one spoke again, “There is no greater honor than bathing the strongest pirate captain on the rock!”
Cira’s eyes went wide as she looked around her group with fear and confusion, landing on her go-to pirate encyclopedia with one leg, “Does.. does this mean they’re my sponge maidens now?! I don’t know if I need all that. When I bathe, I usually just use magic—cough cough—I mean pirate magic… once every two years.”
“We’ll never be your sponge maidens!" A soggy yellow sponge came flying at Cira and she sliced it clean in two, drawing and re-sheathing her blade within the blink of an eye. The girls all stumbled back at the display.
“Your captain was weak and if you keep trying to fight, I’ll just knock you out and turn you over to the mayor for money.” They all went silent at that. Cira raised her brows and looked between the three, “Okay? Okay. Now, what to do with you…?”
First order of business, Cira wove them shirts out of salt using the technique for her sail earlier and molded them onto each girl, which was a frightening experience for them, “Alright, the three of you are clearly lacking in career opportunities… I think I may have some use for you.”
They looked between their new salty shirts and the disgruntled pirate lady with absolute confusion. This was the type of moment Cira liked to take advantage of to shift gears, and decided it was time to address the trapped masses who had been waiting to hear their fate.
“I am Captain Cirina Dreadheart!” The name struck fear into them, but her crew all cheered, “The Black Scourge Pirates are no more. Captain Don is no more. His treasure belongs to me—” She trailed off as their clamoring blew up with all the uncertainty in the air. She had just glossed over disbanding their crew after all, and made it sound like she killed their captain.
“Enough!” Making herself louder when she was already throwing her voice with a spell was simple, “I was just explaining—no nevermind…” That’s pirates I guess… Half of them are drunker than I am. Man… Cirina sure gets things done fast. “Jimbo is your new captain. You are all members of the Dreadheart Fleet. Now gather ‘round! I only need one thing from all of you.”
Finishing her drink and returning it to orbit for a refill, Cira raised a stage from the salt for herself to lord down on them from. While she was at it, a table, chairs, and refreshments for her crew down below.
Cira waited for all the conscious pirates to come back over and made sure they were quiet before clearing her throat, “Ahem. I would like anybody in this chamber to raise their hand if you know what my treasure is.” She pointed at the enormous glowing deritium wall.
She looked around for a while and most of them were paying attention but looked confused or a little scared at not knowing the answer. She didn’t mean to threaten them, but that sentiment would come in handy for the next step. It seemed not a single person here knew about deritium, though she didn’t see any miners. Either way, this at best saved her a minor inconvenience. Nothing could stop her at this point.
She looked at one of the tougher looking guys that got scared earlier while speaking to the crowd, “Now, who knows about where this stuff this red stuff is going?”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
She tried to look over them menacingly with a hand on her blade. Eventually one man cracked, “It’s Juan! He knows everything!”
“You bastard!” A bruised-up man she vaguely recognized shouted at the snitch.
Cira looked at him and squinted her eyes appraisingly, “You must be Juan—”
“I won’t tell you a damn thing, ya’ damn gutter wench!” He spat towards her, and she watched it fall on one of his friends among the crowd far beneath her.
“Rude. Go take a seat over there.” Overlooking the cave, she waved her sword from one side to the other, plucking Juan up before placing him in a chair that formed beneath him. The arms and legs changed shape to bind him in place. It sent the former Black Scourge into a short panic before Cira blasted one of those firecracker spells from earlier into the ceiling to get everyone’s attention.
It did not take long for all eyes to fall on her again, “Everybody in this room is infected by the plague.” This only caused further panic and people started to scuttle around, so another bang brought them back. “Fools. Everyone on this island is infected. It is not wise to interrupt your captain.”
They shuddered but ultimately came to an agreement, nodding among themselves. Did I stumble upon a pirate rule? Works for me.
“Listen closely! In the coming weeks a cure will appear in Uru and Uren. The full treatment takes three years. Decide for yourselves if you want to stay on this island to be cured or leave, but Earth Vein will be crawling all over Fount Salt within the week. From now until the end of tomorrow, you all will spread this news. When I give the signal, it will be impossible to miss no matter where you are. When that time comes, regroup with Jimbo in Uru for further orders.”
She looked over everyone to make sure her words had sunk in with at least some of them, lowering the seal on each door, “Now go! Awaken or carry your friends. Run to the furthest reaches of these tunnels and tell everyone this news! Off you go!”
She pelted the ceiling with repeated Firecrackers, and they scampered off in a panic. Cira figured they wouldn’t be too organized in this task, but these men were likely fleeing to any one of many secret crevices where criminals lived, and the news would naturally spread. To places perhaps even Lomp didn’t know about.
There was no doubt in her mind that most outlaws would simply leave the island if they possessed the means, especially if they hadn’t shown any symptoms, but she would like to give as many people as possible the opportunity to reach the cure. Even if they were pieces of trash like Don or Baum. It may have been a little early to tell, but Triton seemed like a promising reason to feel this way. Cira liked to hope most people could change if given the chance.
That said, Don’s outlook wasn’t great. As his old crew all dispersed from the room, Cira lowered her stage back into the ground. She then noticed the sponge maidens had taken to cleaning Don’s unconscious body, weeping with concern.
“Heal.” Cira’s voice was cold. She watched the girls’ faces light up as his wounds all miraculously closed. Color returned to his face and his eyes shot open. She walked toward him and the three could feel the anger radiating off her, backing away after just one look at her face. “Don.”
He shivered, slowly turning his head to meet her gaze, “…Yes?” The once-large pirate cowered before her, and this time the maidens said nothing.
“Tell me. What is this?” The tip of her blade pointed to the deritium, and the glint in her eye brooked no lies or hesitation.
“I-I don’t know! I swear!” He started crawling backwards through a puddle of blood and saltwater, “Juan handles everything! I don’t have a clue what it is!”
“Pathetic…” She turned her fury to Juan, dragging him back over through the air. “Tell me, Juan. What is—”
“I told you I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’!” He spat right in her face, and she caught it, sending it back into his shoulder with a powerful bang. He yelped and nearly tripped backwards as blood started to pour down his arm then looked between her and the wound with crazy eyes..
“I already know what it is. I’m asking if you know.” A ball of water started to form at Tide Quencher’s tip.
Nina even popped out to dance around it as the blue light grew in size—Cira only just realizing there was a distinct lack of nymphs since the raid began. Maybe I spooked ‘em with my magic, or they steer clear of the deritium… The mana reflected in beads of sweat falling down Juan’s face. Finally, he cracked, “It’s glowstone, okay! Free mana that people pay a killing for. Any pirate’s dream! Is that what you wanna hear? What’s the big deal?!”
Slap!
The ball of water stretched out and whipped him in the face. “Idiot!”
Slap! Slap! Slap, slap, slapslap!
She got Don and Juan good a few times before scowling into their very soul, wagging her blade at the glowing calamity, “Deritium. Ever heard of it?” she continued after seeing their blank, frightened faces, “It’s causing the plague, you morons! Do you see how the water falls over it from above?! Straight to the pump, then up to the surface to trickle down. Spreading the plague across every single person on this island!” Their faces paled as she approached them, now shouting in their faces. Gears slowly turned in their heads and the sponge maidens were in disbelief.
“I—I just stole the treasure! It’s always been here!” Don tried to defend himself.
“Look at this!” She kept pointing at it aggressively, “You can feel it from here! You idiots set up camp right next to it. It’s a wonder you’re not all dead. Your saving grace is that you’re so stupid you didn’t even know what you were doing, but then you went and poked holes in the ceiling. Are those just to bathe with? Do you think it looks cool? There is a limit to how much ignorance can spare you.”
“And what were we supposed to do, huh?!” Juan shouted.
“We’ve established that you’re stupid, but come on. This is the most obvious threat to life that I’ve ever seen. It’s like discovering a poisoned well or an old-lady strangler. I know you’re pirates, but who doesn’t report that to someone who can take care of it? People like you are the worst type. Any pirate who sails the skies should at least have a single shred of decency in them, yet you’re content to live in this death-chamber at everyone’s detriment, getting bathed in saltwater by these women who look like they haven’t eaten in a week.” Cira had gotten so worked up she forgot she wasn’t actually a pirate. The men crumbled beneath her harsh words, but the Dreadheart crew seemed almost inspired.
Cira sighed. This didn’t go how she expected at all. When she heard Don was hoarding the deritium to smuggle it away, she expected something far more sinister and, well, challenging. Reality was often harsher than one would expect. Fount Salt’s plague was the product of nothing more than incompetence and greed. The recurring theme was starting to wear Cira down and the Dead Belt felt more inviting by the day.
Empty skies weren’t something Cira wanted to return to, but a long stretch of dead islands before returning to the Boreal sounded like a post-due vacation.
“I’ve had enough. Sleep.” The two men fell, and everybody gawked when the Salty Songstress lit up again. Metal prisons formed around the men, not unlike the one Triton once slept in. Including the giant, this made three such prisoners. “My business here is done for now. Let’s return to Uru.”
The Salty Songstress seemed to hear her words and swung around as chains grew from the personal prisons and attached themselves to the stern.