“What do you mean, you haven’t been truthful with me?” Arden wove in and out of the dockland workers, nimbly keeping up with Lilith and Jeremiah as they climbed the boarding ramp and padded onto the deck.

Lilith ignored him at first, choosing instead to take interest in the crates piled high along the portside guide rail. They were a strange mix of wood and metal, each one brandished with the crest of whatever merchant house or shipping company had chartered the vessel. It was unusual to see so many, but the assassin put it down to the collaboration, unusual for the nobles, that had brought their expedition together.

“Do you two need a moment?” Jeremiah rested his hands on his hips.

“No, there is no need. What I have to say needs to be said to you both.” She turned and gestured to the end of the ship where the wheel and captain’s quarter were housed. “I didn’t realise that my brother had woven an equally tangled web as I.” She smirked. “We need to set the record straight about what happened on that tower a decade ago.”

Arden relived the final push of the Scara Brae guard to the top of Molineux’s Tower, when the sorcerer had returned and tried to level the city for his exile. Only the Knights of Brae and the captains of the Ixian knights banding together had averted disaster. The choice he made atop the tower had scarred the swordsman, and the image of a steel winged helmet with a white halo flashed before his eyes as a reminder of his mistake.

“Wait…you were there?” Arden raised an eyebrow and pointed to the captain.

“Hell, yes boy, I was that plucky sergeant you made go first into the ante chamber.” Jeremiah pulled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo, covering the scars he had suffered when the flames had nearly engulfed them all.

“Thayne’s be damned. It can’t be Killian?” The swordsman could hardly believe it.

“The very same. When your sister approached me about the letter from Her Majesty I had a funny turn when she mentioned you by name. I thought you’d long fled the city.”

“I did,” Arden pouted. “Home is a hard place to abandon.”

“And I’m glad you didn’t. You did good, Arden. Now, let’s see if the Scourge a,” he cleared his throat. “Sorry, let’s see if The Hand and the Knights of Brae can work together once more.” He began to walk to his cabin door, barking final orders to ready for departure at anyone who was foolish enough to get in earshot.

“I’m not here because of The Hand, Killian.” Arden followed, feet dragging with reluctance towards the door. The captain opened it and disappeared inside, his trademark laughs echoing in the twilight. The swordsman stepped aside to let Lilith enter first then followed, shortening the crimson scarf about his neck to a practical shape with a tug at the magic that tied him to the vestments of his office.

“Why are you here, then?”

The captain’s quarters were small but lavishly decorated with swan motifs and heavyset bookcases on every inch of wall where there wasn’t a porthole. Heavy, dusty tomes on every topic relating to Scara Brae and warfare greeted them, telling tall tales of the ship’s captain’s exploits. Arden barely remembered Killian’s face, but there was no mistaking his charisma and willingness to dive in headfirst for a cause he believed in. He longed for that youth, despite the man’s grey hair and beard, he was only in his late forties in body. He sat in a wingback chair and poked a finger at the two stools opposite.

“I’m here because of our role in the first rebellion.” He sat, the weight lifting of his shoulders and ankles as for the first time in centuries, he faced his final demons. “Sometimes you have to put wrongs right.”

“You’ve gone all noble on me, Arden. I don’t like it. Tell me something more grandiose and scary.” Jeremiah frowned.

“The dog’s lost his bark, I’m afraid.” Lilith flicked her geta from her bare feet and crossed one leg over the other.