For all the exciting drama that slowly developed around them, the only thing that crossed Razel’s mind was whether or not her cards held a higher value than that of those before her. The shady room, candle lit and veiled lightly in the smoke of gamblers was full of grins, frowns and a multitude of groans and cheers. The game of cards was born of boredom, rather than that of their small victory in taking ship. The mercenaries had more than earned their pay on this journey, and from the moment that they handed the reins over to the mechanics and sailors, their time here had been tainted with a dullness that left little to comfort the short attention span of the average mercenary.

Razel slapped a castle card face up, a novice move by appearance, but Razel had played this game many times before. Razel glanced up knowingly, trying to hide her grin as her lip trembled in resistance - she found it difficult to hide her true motives when she held a greater plan.

“Shit card?” Lian’s brow furrowed as he peered up from his own cards.

“Must be…” Razel replied showing that smug grin she loved to smile.

Her blue irises were eye-catching, like bits of the summer sky brought to earth. She wanted them to focus on her eyes, and to distract them from the game they were supposed to be playing. She could win this easily; she knew that for a fact.

“Call!” Lian called her bluff. She could play her mind games, she could try to distract him, and she could try to lie as much as she wanted - he was no fool.

The deep tension in her breast lessened and the tough nerves that she hid so well began to show. Lian had assumed her bluff, but the double bluff hid within her cards. She smiled knowingly once more as he pushed his gold coin towards the centre pile on the table. The bets could no longer be taken out and a winner would be announced.

Clink!

The mechanism clicked into place as the levered door slid open, letting the cold, salty sea air quickly mix and waft away the burnt scent of the cigars that twitched in many a man’s lips. Razel, a non-smoker herself, would have appreciated the fresh air normally. This time however, the interruption could not have been timed much worse.

A crowd of angry eyes leered at the accused as he entered, and standing a little hesitant in the entrance was Malachi. Recently promoted into an unusual position of First Mate, the Chief Engineer wasn’t used to barking orders at the paid hands before him.

“What the fuck do you want?” Another mercenary moaned from the rear, unaware of the man’s new position.

Razel huffed a long sigh. “Guys... Relax. It’s only Malachi.”

“You’re wanted on deck. Starboard side, we’ve encountered a potential hostile.” Malachi requested, his soft tone enough to catch Razel’s ear without it sounding like a command - he had no desire to start an argument.

Razel looked him up and down, the somewhat dirty dressed engineer wasn’t usually used as a lackey, and he hadn’t really conversed with the group in general; he hadn’t needed to.

“You’ll need to be armed and ready.” He continued, staring directly at Razel. Giving commands wasn’t unusual to him but giving them to this lot was.

Razel stood up, her demeanour somewhat arrogant as she leaned her weight to her right foot and stared skeptically at Malachi. “Fair enough.” Then, she slammed her remaining cards down to full view of Lian and the others. “Read them and weep, guys. Let’s get on with it, Malachi looks serious.”

Waiting for no further questions, he sheepishly backed up out the room and went looking for Jodin. Meanwhile, the group mocked Lian as he dropped his half spent cigar to his gawping loss.

“Shit, woman… King, Queen and Castle...” Lian’s eyes saddened to the pile of gold that was now making its way into Razel’s pouch. “Who the fuck put you in charge of us?” His sarcastic question filled with light-hearted exasperation.

“Good question,” she laughed. “I’m not sure if it’s because I’m smarter than you, or because I’ve got tits. I’ll let you decide.”

“Tits.” The group universally acknowledged as they proceeded to quickly buckle their belts, sheath their swords and load their crossbows. It was time to take things seriously once again.

They were hardly a marching army, but they didn’t need to be. They were strong, talented individuals who were effective in ways an army of organised men could not be. Thieves, murderers, fighters, sneaks and general thugs, this group did as they pleased and got paid for doing it.

Razel shuddered as the brunt of the cold wind blew back her hanging red bangs. She led the group to the right side of the ship and took ahold of the railing to steady herself upon the rolling waves. The deck remained relatively empty, while off the starboard side their opportunity had presented itself.