The rock mage approached a little uncomfortable under Cira’s scrutinous gaze. He even paused for a moment until Skipper reassured him.

“So, you’re the rock mage, huh?” Cira eyed him carefully as he stood there shifting awkwardly.

“Erm, yeah. Friends call me Rocky.” He held out a hand, “It’s a pleasure…?”

Cira shook his hand without easing up on the stare down, “You a metal mage, too?”

“I… I guess so.” He blinked and there was a round of silence.

Eventually it was Baum who broke the silence after polishing of his glass, “How is this guy going to help you fix your soul again?”

“He’s not.” Cira shook her head and savored the fried potato sides they brought out. “The secrets to fixing my soul are sealed behind a solid titanium block. I need him to melt it, or something. Whatever gets me through it.”

“Titanium, huh?” Rocky started pondering but eventually withered under everyone’s disapproving glare, “It’s tricky, but I’m sure it will work out.”

Cira shrugged, finishing her glass too, “What can ya do? Someone go buy a keg quick. I sense the wind turning.”

Jimbo nodded at James, who in turn nodded at Goon Three. That man got up and walked over to the kitchen while everyone else finished up their drinks. Cira placed Nina back on her perch and stood up to stretch her leg. Leaning on the crutch, she could flex the leg under her weight without worrying about falling over.

Can’t believe I lost my leg. Three whole weeks ago… It still doesn’t feel real. She could still feel it trying to step or with a stiffness yearning to be exercised. She hadn’t used that ankle in a month, and it felt like it—whether or not it was still attached. It was a constant, dull ache. One silver lining was that she probably slept through the worst of the pain, but there was nothing like feeling pain on a part of your body that no longer existed.

She had trouble complaining, as it was still hard at work kicking out the remnants of Fount Salt from her nervous system, so in a way it balanced out.

“You ain’t leavin’ already, are ya?” Cira was propped against the table and twisting herself around to crack her back when a gruff pirate interrupted her with those leering eyes she recognized from Uru.

“I most certainly am.” He wore a striped bandana and ripped pants while crumbs littered his chest hair. His stench was like he had just discovered a place in the world with even cheaper ale and drank it dry before arriving, but also sour. Cira’s face scrunched up in intense displeasure, “Would you mind leaving? I am very busy at this hour.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, girl. The night’s young, and only I can show ya where it can take ya.” His grin made Cira even more squeamish.

“Somehow, I doubt that, but… Perhaps I’ll give you a chance.” His eyes lit up. “That sword at your waist. If you can bend it in half before my eyes, I’ll go with you.”

Her crew started snickering like a good joke was being told. Jimbo laughed and stood up, getting closer to the only man who could help Cira on this night. “Want me to stick ‘im?”

“No, I think he’s going to give it a try.” She watched him closely as he pulled the sword from his waist and looked at it intently. Holding it in both hands he flexed it, and there was a slight bend. Cutlasses were usually thin and broad, making them simple to bend just a little. Maybe someone like Milty’s doorman could pull off the feat, but a normal person could not bend a sword in half through regular means.

Cira would get it stuck between boards in the table and pry it over or something, but the pirate that stood before her was a man among men. There were two men behind him from the table he sat at leering at her as well and nodding their heads with absolute faith, “You got it, boss! I just knew our luck was gonna turn around.”

“Yeah, you got that right.” Jimbo eyed them from a table over and they were startled to be overheard.

“Are you sure this is a good idea…?” James asked her, a little worried, “What if he does it? I mean, he can only try to with his bare hands for so long… You got a lot of witnesses for this bet.”

“SHHHH!” Cira shushed him with a finger over her lips, “Let the man figure it out. I never said how far I’d go with him or to where. Could be just over there.” She pointed to the bar counter with a line of drinks poured.

“That’s a little flimsy, but… You’re the captain.” He raised his drink up and got to work. Cira sighed as she saw goon three bear hugging a barrel like his back was going to snap with a dainty woman in tow.

Meanwhile Cira’s newest problem stood there waving his sword up and down flat in the air so it wiggled and made that funny noise, “I can do this, I just gotta—” As if timing it with the bendy flex of his sword, he slid both hands onto the blade and started ripping his hands down like he was snapping a fallen branch.

Suddenly the sword clattered to the ground as he froze with an “Oh shit!” expression carved into his face like an ancient statue. A light trickle and one plop—two, three..

Plop, plop, plop…

Cira, Jimbo, Nameless Stinky Pirate, then every patron and worker in the establishment looked on in horror as finger stubs rolled to a stop in a thin puddle of blood on the stone floor.

“GYAHHHH!!” He fell back on his ass, staring at his palms in disbelief, more sober now than he’d ever been in his life. The man looked at Cira now in shock, “Why—why would you make me do that?!”

“I… I’m sorry! Holy shit… Why?!” Cira’s jaw also on the floor as she pulled her feet onto the table to escape the blood’s path, “Why would you do it like that?!”

“Pops!” One of the men from the same table, who looked roughly the same age, came up crying and cradled him, while the other started picking up fingers and shoving them in his pockets in a panic. This one stared at Cira with rage.

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“You! You did this to Pops!”

Cira was still in shock, looking around the Flying Dutchess at everyone’s fear-stricken faces. James shook his head disapprovingly, while Jimbo held a similar expression, but let out a laugh as he approached the third man.

“Listen… Pops did this to himself.” He put a hand on his shoulder and nodded understandingly.

I mean… I do kind of feel bad. How could I expect him to be that stupid? I can’t possibly live my life tiptoeing around idiots, can I? Yeesh, what a way to wake up. I should stop debilitating people. It’s getting tough to watch.

“You, sonofabitch, Jimbo, who the hell does this wench think she is—” Smack!

“You know as well as Pops you shouldn’ta messed with her.” He shook his head, “If she didn’t make the bet, he woulda earned a good stickin’. Better this way. Take ‘im up to Larry’n he should put ‘em back on. I’d say you got ten minutes for best effect, just make sure ya don’t got any holes in your pockets.”

He stood dumbfounded and stuttering at Jimbo’s declaration, but time was ticking, no matter how mad he was, “You… you bastards! This isn’t over!” With a hand tightly clutching each pocket, he ran to the exit, “Hurry up and grab Pops! We gotta go!”

The other one struggled under his weight, but slung Pops over his shoulder, leaving a trail of blood through presumably the entirety of Hangman’s Cove. Once the man had grasped the blade with both hands, that debacle had lasted maybe fifteen seconds, and now they were gone.

After the patrons had finished watching them disappear, they turned, horrified, to Cira in unison. She could only throw her hands up and shake her head, feeling many of the same emotions. Without any recourse, Cira helplessly turned to Jimbo, “I mean, I feel bad, but what the hell was that? How could I expect him to be so incredibly stupid?”

“Pops isn’t just dumb.” Baum added from the back. Everyone nodded, but Cira looked on in confusion until James enlightened her.

“There isn’t much you’ll find up here that’s more dangerous than a drunk idiot.”

“Ahh…” Cira nodded as well. “Maybe I should avoid engaging fools altogether… at least until I can heal again.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” James nodded along.

“Is it now? Perhaps you should go on home, then.” As she glared at him, the people started to whisper, and a couple even got up to leave. The atmosphere was ruined. “Rock mage, this is you first job. Clean up all the blood.”

“What?! But I’m a rock mage! I don’t work with blood!” He stared at her outlandishly, which she returned right back.

“The blood is on the rocks. Just sort of scoop it away, you know? Looks porous too, so don’t let any in.”

“Wha- are you being serious right now?” He was aghast, doing double takes between her and the blood stain from the door to the cliff.

Meanwhile Cira shrunk back in honest shock, “Yes, I’m serious. This is not a big ask. Just pour it off the cliff. It’s fine if there’s a little stain left, I guess. Maybe shift it down and replace it with clean stone or something.”

“Oh… I guess that would work.” Rocky had a hand on his chin, “Okay I’ll give it a try.”

He had started working on it right then and there, and Cira hated to be the kind of boss that just pesters someone, but she had to say something, “Er, start at the door… Unless you plan to do it twice.”

Hangman’s Cove could deal with their own bloodstain. Cira would only clean the one inside the tavern, because it wasn’t a bad place aside from the emotional trauma of watching a man leave with only thumbs. Yeah, that was pretty bad… Why did that have to happen?

“Um, excuse me please, Miss…” When Cira turned there was a meek looking young woman in her mid-twenties. Clearly a woman who has made her living with labor, yet the first decade of adulthood has still been kind to her. She had fair skin and a timid expression hidden behind pale red bangs. “This gentleman said you would, er, pay for this barrel of ale.”

“Good gods, set that thing down!” Cira cried as she watched the man still holding the full barrel hoist it down and collapse into a chair breathing heavily, “What is wrong with you people?” She was forced to bury her head in her hands for a moment and collect herself before addressing the woman, “Are you the owner of this establishment?”

Jimbo had pointed her out earlier so Cira knew she would say, “Yes… That’s me. The flying dutchess!” She splayed out her hands and did a pose in some grand and sing-songy introduction, but her voice lacked confidence and it showed on her face too. She ended it with awkward laughter, holding the pose just a few seconds too long.

You know… That’s not funny. But it’s the kind of thing to which anyone with a drink in their hand would surely offer a chortle or a brief but enthusiastic, ‘yeah!’ to. I have to hand it to her for trying to lighten the mood, though. She’s probably done that hundreds of times to drunk patrons that were half paying attention and got a wonderful reception. But not tonight.

The woman’s face fell as utter silence surrounded them. Nothing but the breeze beyond the veil of mist and a mouse’s squeak on the dock above them. The pose naturally crumbled and she looked at Cira like she was about to cry.

Oh no, what do I do now? Just smile, Cira! And she offered the best smile she could while still looking sincere, “I’m sorry for all the trouble…”

“Oh, believe it or not, this happens all the time, thought not quite like this I have to say…” She laughed nervously and watched the blood trickle away to the cliff, “Most don’t offer to clean up, so thank you.”

“It was the least I could do, this was partially my fault after all.” Cira could only tell the full, unadulterated truth to this woman. No way was she one to shirk responsibility. It was only right to take ownership of one’s mistakes—that was always her philosophy.

“Actually,” James piped up again from the back, “I’d wager it was entirely your fault, Dreadheart.”

“Whatever, James… You’re just mad I gave Jimbo the hat.”

“Pffft!” Jimbo slapped him on the shoulder, “She got ya there!”

“I—I am not!” Whether there was any truth to his denial was impossible to say. James’ misgivings were lost on Cira. She couldn’t even say that she believed he was mad about it. It just felt like the right thing to say.

“D—did you say Dreadheart?!” The woman went pale as a sheet, “Oh, please, this barrel is free!”

She went to turn away, but Cira grabbed her arm, causing her to shriek, “Will you cut that out? I’m paying for this damn beer. Why is everyone always like that?”

She was petrified for a moment before speaking, “You just have a, uh, reputation….”

“For being cheap? I know that’s not true. Jimbo, give her a coin from that pouch I gave you. One of the little round ones.”

“Aye aye, cap’n.” He saluted and dug around in his coat before flicking a coin toward the unsuspecting barkeep.

“Huh?” It bounced off her chest and she caught it in her hand. After her eyes bulged, she shoved the coin deep into her shirt and returned the brightest smile she could back to Cira, “Th-thank you so much! I hope to see you again soon, Captain Dreadheart!”

“And I, you.” For some reason, Cira gave the poor woman a snap and a finger gun before turning away as her crew hoisted up the barrel and made for the exit. In case that wasn’t awkward enough for you, lady, I’ll be here all week.

It took two goons and Skipper to carry the keg safely and Rocky came running up behind them, making a rush job of the last few feet. “Hey, wait for me!” Not having been paid a single crown yet, he was not planning to lose them.

They had to step around the blood trail for much of the trip until they took a turn that led back outside the city. The walk was hard, but she had a break sitting at the tavern for a while. The exercise was needed to get her strength back though, so Cira was happy to stay moving.

"Were you really just going to stab him, Jimbo?" Cira wondered, "Seems a tad harsh, well, not that he ended up much better."

“'Course. That's how you gotta be up here. Those idiots heard all the stories and you saw how fast the messed with you. Anyway, where we goin’ exactly?” Jimbo asked the natural question as the woman with a crutch led the way.

“Back to the ship.” Cira wore a wide grin as she looked back, “Home, sweet home.”