For the first time in over two weeks, seagulls soared overhead in clear blue skies. The ship creaked and groaned against the sea's soft waves. The torn sails from the violent storms the week prior fluttered in the strong eastward wind. Crude stitch work from the first shipmate's repairs should prove strong enough to hold them together for landing. Thankfully, gulls overhead meant shore was maybe hours away. Those injured below were in dire need of true medical facilities, and some of the families waiting at port would bear grim news of the few lost during the storm. This was the life of a sailor. I never did care for it. Hence why The Serpent, my ship, remained in the care of Pirate King Malachi.


"Land ho!" cried the watchman from his bird nest. The remaining crew stirred back to life, barking and chattering with one another in their simplified tongue.


I lifted my elbows from the ship's bow and turned my half blind gaze from the blue horizon toward the stairway to the cargo deck. Wary eyes traced my boots upon the swollen planks. They tried to keep their whispers and rumors quiet during the trip, but their attempts were naught. They thought me a mercenary, a killer, a bounty hunter, some so bold as to assume me a Magi Hunter. None truly knew me as the Master of the Hand, but their assumptions were not entirely incorrect. Although, I didn't paint a casual picture, given the dark leathers and strapped with killing instruments. The scar and clouded eye unsettled a few nerves by itself.


Below deck, I went to my little corner. Beside the half dozen crates of materials I brought from the mainland sat a generic linen rucksack. That's where all the important cargo was. Not jewels, nor gold, but parchments sealed with my crest. Twelve of them. As well as a freshly cast set of keys. To a curious deckhand, it was a bag of rubbish. To me, it was my life's work. I plucked it from the damp ground and slung it over my back before journeying topside.


The crew busied with full preparation. Captain Ghaul Abrams' braced boot thudded loudly against the stairs to my left. Despite how often he tried to oil the hinges of the brace, the steel always sang out in shrill notes. In the days past, I heard the drunken story at least a half dozen times. In the midst of a storm much like the one we weathered, he was cast overboard by angry waters. A coil of rope snagged him by the leg before he was lost to the sea, but in the chaos of it all, he was left to dangle against hull. The constant bashing of his body between ship and sea nearly killed him. His leg got the worst of it, but despite the damage, he refused to let them amputate. It eventually healed, but instead of a wooden stump for a leg, he now had one made from meat and metal.


"Oi, stranger." His raspy voice aimed at me. "Where d'ya think you're going? Ship won't make birth for 'nother hour or two."


Unlike his subordinates, he didn't seem phased by my appearance. Not surprising considering the various types of riff raff he employed to man his deck. We had several exchanges over the trip, but I never did give him my name. He didn't mind. The Hand kept him generously compensated for his discretion, afterall.


"I'd like to watch us make land." Normally, I wouldn't give a damn. Normally, the crew wouldn't even know I was aboard the ship. Recent events... well.


"Didn't take you for the scenic type," the captain replied. He hobbled his way beside me. The proximity made my hands itch for the comfort of a blade's hilt.


"Listen," Ghaul's voice drew low and hushed. "I've got a strong inkling of who you are, Serpent."


I kept my eyes forward, but the cool steel chilled the palm of my right hand. To think I'd have to tie up loose ends so close to shore. Then, I felt his meaty hand firmly grip my shoulder.


"Easy there, I know who fills my coffers." His words did little to relieve the tension in my body. "I'm just curious what someone of your stature is doing out this far east? Running away are you?"


If I killed him here, I'd have a crew to fight. A frigate of this size can't be manned by one person. Then again, what do I have to lose from telling him? It's at least two weeks under full sail to get back to Althanas and we had more than enough pull in Dehlos to prevent a threat there. My hand relaxed.


"The opposite." I wrapped my hand around his wrist and relieved him of my shoulder. "I'm here to take action."


Ghaul's beady eyes hid behind a lowered brow. "Are you playing coy with me?"


"No, but you don't want to pry any deeper than you already are." Keep asking questions. I'll row to shore if I have to.


"Is that a threat, boy?" I watched the sailor's hand come to rest atop his saber. My eyes locked against his and I steeled myself with the intent to kill him, and every other yellow bellied scumbag on this vessel. It wouldn't be the first time I've cleaned a ship of its crew.


The captain's stern gaze cracked at the corner of his lips and exploded into laughter. His hand paddled against my back with enough raw strength to knock some wind from my lungs.


"Alright, alright. Fair point. I won't dig any deeper. So long as the gold keeps coming, you could tell me you're here to ride the king's cock and I wouldn't give a damn!" The old seaman chuckled at the notion of his own joke. "Enjoy the view, stranger. Try not to fall overboard while you're seeing the sights!"


I didn't like him. His laughter, his confidence, and his lack of fear. It pissed me off. As he walked off to oversee his crew, I made a mental note to put him under watch. Despite my ire and his knowledge of the Hand, he could still prove useful. I cracked a faint grin at the thought. Madison would be proud.


I let my temper smolder and returned to the bow where I perched. Off in the thin line where the blue of the sea met the blue of the sky, a narrow divider of jagged earth began to grow.