[Sorry this took so long, if y'all are still down let's have some fun!]

The blood soaked through the heavy fabric of his jacket, but Torvald wrapped the garment tighter around his servant’s head.

“Frederick! Speak to me!” The young lord had dragged his advisor inside what remained of the boathouse, but the damage was done. A chunk of masonry had struck Frederick in the side of the fate, and even his padded wig had not protected him from its weight and momentum. His eyes were barely responsive to Torvald’s desperate gaze, but his hand clenched the younger man’s wrist powerfully and his lips moved, forming pained words.

“You must… to the keep,” the dying man gasped. “Your wife… bears a secret… I meant to tell you myself, but now there is no time. Fall back behind your fighters, my lord. Live, and avenge me another day…”

“Frederick, don’t say such things!” Hot tears shone in Torvald’s eyes as the building shook beneath a second salvo from the sea. He covered his head as more masonry crumbled inward. “You will tell me this secret yourself, after we’ve returned to the keep together!” He commanded his servant, but the older man had slumped limply to the floor, eyes gazing sightlessly at the ceiling.

Torvald shook his head, refusing to believe his mentor could be dead. He was not a man of medicine; the only way he knew to check for life signs was by holding a polished blade above the man’s lips to see whether a sheen formed. But he could not take the time. More cannonballs would be striking home before long. He grabbed the padded shoulders of Frederick’s jacket and dragged his servant beneath a stout table, where he would have at some modest protection in case the ceiling crumbled. Then Torvald climbed to his feet, legs badly shaken, and sprinted down the stairs and into the courtyard.

~*~

“Hahaharrr! Good shooting laddos, I didn’t like the looks of that building much. It seems a much holier place now, and you know my fondness for the Thayne!”

The comment earned Marigold a wave of laughter from the landing crew, which surrounded him on the main deck’s starboard side.

“See if ye’ can sink those ugly little boats in the harbor!” Marigold bellowed as the Trove came about for another broadside, “we wouldn’t want any of the little Coronian lassies and lads slipping away by sea!”

He threw back his head and roared with laughter, the sound drowned out by the canonical music of his longuns. “To the boats, boyos!” the Freebooter cackled, leaping toward the first longboat. He perched in the prow as his crew lowered it to the strangely serene waters. Ladders and ropes descended down the ship’s side, and the pirates all but slid down to join their captain. They filled the four longboats out nicely, and set about rowing landward with pistols pointed forward and cruel intentions painted across their faces.