Fenrir and The Shoebill head back to the city’s docks with only one hour left before the deadline.

Nell caught one fish.

Cassiel caught eleven fish.

Corwin caught seventeen fish.

Serra caught twenty-nine and three-fourths fish.

Fenrir has caught eighty-two and one-half fish.

There was one point where a convenient school of fish came near where he was casting his line at, so he was able to cast his line, reel in a fish, and cast it out to immediately reel in another fish.

Even if none of the others had caught a fish, Fenrir has secured enough of them to guarantee their position in the tournament’s next stage.

The fact that Alexander was able to successfully get underneath Fenrir’s skin just pisses him off even more. Alexander would normally just be some other asshole who Fenrir wants to kill and ruin the reputation of, but now Alexander has gotten under his skin. His dislike for Alexander, as biased as it may be, is far stronger than his dislike for Ull now.

Fenrir goes below deck while The Shoebill coasts into the city’s waters.

“Tabs. You knew about those guys. Tell me everything else you know,” Fenrir orders.

Bonekraka notices Fenrir’s mood and smiles.

This sort of mood is what brings them together.

“Oi. One, don’t just order me around like that. Two, repeat number one. Got it, wolf boy?” Tabitha asks.

Her attitude brings Fenrir just enough out of his mood to realize that he’s being rude. “…sorry, I’m just in a bad mood,” he apologizes.

“Yeah, Now then, I don’t know much about ‘em other than what I’ve already told ya. They’ve got a ship that should be far outside their league, and despite bein’ pretty new players – probably no older than you are, they’ve got some powerful items and skills already.”

“Twinks?” Fenrir asks.

“Could be. That’s… actually a pretty darn good theory you’ve got there. Never really thought of twinkin’ in this game, but it’s possible if yer smart about it.”

“They’re either twinks or somebody is supplying them and acting behind the scenes. Those are the only two options. Leveling up their skills would be easy as well if they’ve started off with overpowered items and never needed to worry about that.”

“What are twinks?” Nell asks, peeking down the stairs.

“Players who basically start new characters and make them OP by giving them special items that they shouldn’t be able to have yet. Like, imagine a level one character in some RPG instantly getting access to a level fifty sword. They’d be able to kill everything instantly to quickly gain experience and stats. Could also explain their ship. If they already had the ship before, all they had to do was hide it away where nobody would accidentally find it, kill themselves on the ship without respawning there, and then start new characters. Then all they’d have to do is go over to the ship, loot their dead bodies, and sail off with brand new faces and reputations.”

“Don’t think that’d work, actually. I doubt the virtual assistants would let ‘em keep knowledge o’ wherever they parked their ship,” Tabitha says.

“It’s possible as long as they’re smart. All they’d have to do is only kill one or two of themselves at a time. Whoever is left alive can guard the ship and give their friends out-of-game knowledge about the ship’s general location, and then they can meet up that way. When I first died, Serra was able to give me a general location of where she’d be, but I just couldn’t remember where exactly it was. A general location is all you really need, though.”

“Yer right, that’d work. Well, this complicates things. I’m guessin’ they want to try and sweep the tourney while being known as a bunch o’ noobs. I know there’s tons of bettin’ on ‘em. They’re the underdog story of the tournament.”

“Then we put them in their place,” Bonekraka says, smashing his fists together.

Fenrir looks up at Bonekraka and smiles. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Fenrir says.

“And how exactly do ya plan on takin’ down a ship made out of steel oak? We’ve got a few cannons here, but even if I modify ‘em before the tourney, they ain’t gonna be strong enough to penetrate its hull. They’d basically just bounce off! Boardin’ is out of the question as well given that they’d make quick work of us,” Tabitha explains.

“Is steel oak flammable?” Fenrir asks.

A light bulb goes off in Tabitha’s head. “It is,” she confirms.

“Think you could make some carcass shots?”

Bonekraka starts giggling at the question as he awaits Tabitha’s answers.

“It’s scary when the big guy there giggles. But yeah, I can make ‘em. Might get us a really bad rep usin’ that, though,” Tabitha answers. “This might surprise ya, but nobody in the main factions encourages usage of stuff like that. It’s basically chemical warfare. Anybody who does use stuff like this is usually hunted down by goody-two-shoes.”

“Chemical warfare? Carcass shots?” Nell asks. Serra is standing next to her now with an excited smile.

“Imagine cannon balls that basically smash open when they hit something and sets fire to everything around it while the fumes basically poison anybody near them,” Fenrir explains.

“Told you that he’s getting serious,” Oleander pokes his head down now.

“That – that sounds scary, but at the same time, so evil in the right kind of way!” Nell exclaims.

Everybody seems excited by this idea aside from Cassiel and Corwin whom can hardly believe what they’re hearing.

“Anyways, we’re here now,” Oleander tells them.

“Alright. Nell, can you stay down here for now?” Fenrir asks.

“If it is what is required of me, then I shall do so, my hero,” Nell answers.

“Thanks. Alright, the rest of us, let’s get up there and turn in our fish.”

Fenrir and the crew lift their barrels of fish onto the pier where one of the tournament’s workers is waiting. She is a dark elf with long, pointed ears, glasses, and a tight business suit that struggles to hide what’s underneath it. “How many fish did you catch?” she asks.

“Enough. Count them yourself,” Fenrir answers.

Serra and Cassiel look at each other when they hear how he talks to her. He was giggling and happy just a few moments ago, but now he’s back to being… different.

“Excuse me?” the dark elf asks, pushing her glasses up and looking ready to disqualify them just for his attitude.

“Look. There are seven of us. That means we only needed to catch seventy fish. I promise you that there is more than that in these barrels. Stick your hand in and try feeling for anything that isn’t a fish if you think we’re trying to trick you,” Fenrir says.

The dark elf looks into each of the barrels and huffs. “I’m not going to waste my time counting when there’s obviously enough here… fine, The Shoebill may proceed to the first round of the tournament. Work on that attitude,” she orders him.

“I’ll try.”

“Fen,” Cassiel speaks up, “can we talk to you?” she asks.

Fenrir looks at them confused.

“We’ll handle the fish,” Oleander says, beckoning Bonekraka, Corwin, and Tabitha over to the barrels so that they can carry them over to the waiting chefs.

“What do you want to talk about?” Fenrir asks.

Cassiel grabs him by his wrist and leads him away. The only private place that she can find right now is an empty alleyway, so that is where she stops with Fenrir and Serra.

“I know you’re upset from that asshole, but that doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole to others for no reason,” Cassiel scolds Fenrir. “He’s just some punk. Are you really going to let him get under your skin? Don’t be so immature.”

Serra naturally wants to take Fenrir’s side, but she stands by Cassiel and nods.

“I’m not being imm—”

Cassiel cuts him off, “Then what was that back there with the girl? She was just doing her job, and you were being an ass to her. That kind of shit really pisses me off. I have to deal with customers like that all the time. You think she wants to deal with that in a game?”

Fenrir’s instinct is to defend himself. This isn’t the first time that somebody has called him out on his behavior, but he would always make excuses for himself to justify whatever he was doing wrong. He realized this before which is part of why he wanted to leave behind the old Divine Brigade. Yet, here he is, now about to do the same.

He looks Cassiel in the eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just—” he bites his tongue. “No, I’m not going to make an excuse. I was being an asshole to somebody who didn’t deserve it. Do you mind if I leave to go and apologize to her?”

“Thank you, you dog bastard. Being able to admit when you screw up is part of what makes me love you,” Cassiel says.

For once, she’s the one confidently stating her love while Fenrir looks away blushing.

“Go apologize to her, and make it a good one. Apologize on behalf of every other asshole she has to deal with while you’re at it,” Cassiel orders him.

“As you wish, my princess,” Fenrir answers and looks at her.

That makes her blush.

“Let’s meet back up at the ship,” he says before running off in search of the dark elf.

Fortunately, she’s not hard to find. She’s still on the pier waiting for the next ship to arrive.

“Hey!” Fenrir shouts out to her.

“What is it?” she asks with a sigh.

Looking at her now that he’s calmed down and is aware of how he was behaving, he can see how she already looks ready to be disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” he says, even busting out the bow that his father taught him. “I was being rude to you when you were just doing your job. You didn’t deserve that, and despite me mistreating you, you didn’t punish us and still let us move onto the first round. Thank you, and I’m sorry.”

He looks up to see her reaction. Part of him expects her to just look annoyed, but instead, he sees her wipe away a tear with one of her gloved hands.

“D-did I say something wrong?” he asks.

“No! Not at all. It’s just… listen, I get treated like shit all the time at work and when I’m working jobs like this, and you’re the first person in – gods, I can’t remember the last time, but you’re the first person to apologize to me in a long time. It means a lot, so thank you,” she explains.

“Sorry. I always hate when I see people act like how I was, and I always judge them for it. I was in a bad mood and let that overcome me, but that’s not an excuse to treat somebody like shit. So, for myself and behalf on all the other assholes, I’m sorry,” he apologizes again.

“Thank you, captain of The Shoebill. It truly means a lot to me that you’ve come to apologize to me.”

“I’ll pass the thanks on to the girls I was with. They’re the ones who called me out on my bullshit and made me realize how I was acting. It’s embarrassing to be called out like that… but I needed it.”

“You know what they say: friends who call you out on your shit are the good ones. Bad friends would just let you keep acting that way. I’m happy that you have some good friends.”

“Yeah, so am—”

Something catches Fenrir’s attention in the corner of his eye.

Roughly thirty of Ull’s men are on the pier that The Shoebill is docked at.

Fenrir’s stomach sinks.

One of the men walks off of The Shoebill with Nell being dragged by a chain that has been hooked to her collar.