“Who’s the new one, Zan? Haven’t seen this face around you people before. Someone important enough to tug around with you?”

“A student of mine.”

The man’s eyes slowly raised up.

“A student?… That’s… interesting. What’s the name, friend? What kind of subject this firefly teaches you?”

The warm expression was working effectively enough, but Joe had an inkling that it wasn’t that simple.

“Joseph. I study fighting arts.”

I might have overdone it…

You definitely did, Darling.

The inquisitive gaze didn’t make him feel better.

Thankfully, the black-bearded man diverted his attention somewhere else a moment later.

“I see, I see. Well, Joseph, good to see you within our little community. I believe it would be polite to introduce ourselves in turn. Name’s George. George Firebreacher. This orange cat-man over there is Rayk Wearless. He is a captain of ‘Rolling Suns’. My ship is ‘Bloody Bane’ - the pride, glory, and the creeping horror of the Neutral Frontier. What about it, sailor? Ever drank the blood of soldiers in your voyage?”

George grinned. The strumming near the tavern stand intensified.

“I have been in a fight with them,” Joe shrugged, choosing his next words very carefully. “I’ve tasted enough salt in the air.”

The man blinked twice. Then he shook his head and turned away, chuckling.

“Is that so? Hmm… Very well, then! He who fights against the dogs of tyranny shall be my brother! I welcome you again into our charming group of rogues and truants, Joseph.”

Joe accepted the offered handshake. He felt the man’s hand gripping his own. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of a cold visage in George’s expression, but the man’s smile shone so genuinely, Joe had begun to doubt himself.

He also noticed that Xander was staring at them, but the moment Joe shifted his attention to the quartermaster, the black dragoncat was already engaged in conversation with Rayk.

“...How’s the haul, you ask? George, wanna tell ‘em? I am not in the mood to work my tongue.”

“Work his tongue, he says…” the captain of the ‘Bloody Bane’ laughed. “Some folks might interpret your unsteady phrasing in a different way, friend.”

Rayk swung his cup, almost spilling the drink all over the table. George sent him an innocent smile.

“Anyway, as the matter of fact, we did have a great catch today! Almost. We met near Miracle Island and proceeded to this lovely town together, when one little ‘wyvern’ jumped us just as we were about to go on our way. I have no idea what their plan was, but the ship was decorated like the ‘Emperor’s Heart’ during a parade, all shiny and angry. Didn’t help them much - it was two of us against one, after all. We cut its wings, quick and easy, forcing it to land onto the island.”

“And you didn’t finish the job?” Xander tilted his head.

Rayk shrugged.

“That ship ain’t no normal one. A Noble’s property, or something. They don’t fly alone.”

“So you booked it out of there. I see.”

George chuckled and raised up his cup.

“We don’t have a ‘dragon’ for a backup, Zan. To your health!”

The band, meanwhile, changed their tune. The slow, melancholic wave was drifting within the tavern. Joe closed his eyes. The imaginary sea was carrying his Mind away.

Away from the heat, away from the world…

He shook his head. That was not the time to fall asleep, that’s for damn sure!

Out of five people at this table, he was the only one who didn’t touch his cup since the very beginning of their conversation. Joe poured a bit of liquid from the closest bottle and took a sip.

Beer. It didn’t taste like urine, at least, and Joe was grateful for that. He took another sip, listening in on the talk between the other members of the ‘conference’. Ralf was quiet too, uncharacteristically refusing to add any spicy (or spiteful) remarks.

Meanwhile, Xander unfolded the familiar scroll. Both captains grimaced.

“Royal-fucking-Pardon… Would you look at that, Rayk. How’re you feeling?”

The captain of ‘Rolling Suns’ sneered.

“This scroll smells like arse. This Pardon is about the same. If they want to play kindergarten nannies, all while conscripting good, noble men of the void under their banner to fight a war for them, then I say - screw ‘em.”

George nodded. Xander tapped his fingers on the table.

“I take it you already got some new weapons for yourself?”

“Oh yeah!” The black-bearded man looked at an empty bottle with mild surprise before turning his full attention to the quartermaster. “We got them. What, you didn’t get the news? The entire honest and hard-working pirate community knows by now, Zan! Where have you been? Did your crew exile itself into a desert or something?”

“We’ve been very busy, George.” Ralf’s words cut the air with the force of a giant’s sword. The captain of ‘Bloody Bane’ furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

The armsmaster continued.

“There is a story I would like to tell you. Imagine a beautiful island, with blue leaves on white trees, colorful flowers, and lavish nature. A place, worthy of some rich stuck-up Noble, who wishes to spend his precious little time lazying away from the morbidness of the outer world. Following me yet?”

“Get to the point.” Rayk wasn’t having it. Ralf smirked.

“Patience, my friend.” Joe witnessed how the orange dragoncat almost turned himself inside out just because of this one careless word. “I’m getting there. So, the island is great, beautiful, and nice. Got a nice, soothing river too. Now then, picture yourself a piece of land - dry, dark, and ghoulish, with trees empty and withered, with black leaves full of poison and lethality. The entire nature is like an undead army from the myths of old - eerie, silent, but deadly. No flower can grow, no animal can survive. Aeriessythys stomped through the place and claimed as Her own. Imagine?”

George Firebreacher frowned but didn’t interrupt.

“And what would you say if I tell you that it is possible for anyone to do the exact same? Just by having one particular thing, you can turn the entire island into an inhabitable graveyard.”

“Dogshit!” Rayk swung his arm. “Only Mages are capable of this savageness. Where did you gouge this story from, a fairy tale?”

His partner remained silent. Ralf slouched back, smiling, not even trying to refute the spiteful stink.

The music was long gone. The stifling silence stood between them; drowned sounds of chatter in the background did nothing to make it less awkward. Neither party was in a rush to break the barrier.

George coughed, getting the attention to himself.

“Zan,” He nodded to the black rhevalian. Xander lifted his eyebrow. “Is this story true?”

The quartermaster half-closed his eyes.

“It is. Want to hear the rest of it?”

Rayk’s expression shifted from dismissive to intense.

“Are you sure?… What kind of Cursed corruption have you stumbled upon?”

“Corruption indeed. Ever heard about Nature’s Bane?”

George and Rayk glanced at each other.

“I heard the rumors…” The black-bearded man scratched his head underneath the tricorne. “So it is not some kind of energy I’m guessing?”

Xander nodded and told the captains an abridged version of the events that transpired on the Black Island, deliberately excluding the exact identities of the scouting group, the involvement of Lady Edna Fox, the Archrhyder, and the fact that the island still had several warehouses where drums were waiting for someone else to stumble upon them.

While the quartermaster was telling the story, Joe scanned the rest of the tavern hall behind him. Some people diverted their eyes away or pulled their hoods down the moment he looked at them.

The singers and the music band grouped together. They were discussing something on the podium.

In the opposite corner from the podium Joe noticed someone who looked like a merchant, surrounded by very serious-looking people. One of them furrowed his forehead and nodded aside. Joe understood the hint.

Another group descended down the stairs near the podium. To Joe’s surprise, the one leading them was a tall, black-haired woman. She was carrying a small axe on the belt and several pistols on the chest. A red cape shrouded the left side. A weary, dented metal sheet covered the middle of her body, hiding beneath the holsters, but the sheet was still noticeable enough for Joe to see the reflection of light on it.

She stopped. Her eyes met Joseph’s.

She winked at him and blew a kiss.

He would have been floored on spot in any other situation. But with heat inside the tavern, endless droning chatter, and the fact that his paranoia didn’t let this juicy chance to run away, woke up, and pointed out (venomously laughing at the same time) that when an unfamiliar woman - especially one that has a team of heavily armed thugs at her command - shows a blatant interest in you, it must be something very shifty. For it to work, the receiving party had to be a protagonist of a fictional story - and Joe very much hoped that it wasn’t the case. Plot armor was an awesome perk, no complaints here, but he really didn’t want to involve himself in plots of universal magnitude…

He shook his head, shooing away the unneeded noise. The group was standing at the tavern stand. The woman was talking with the bartender - a grim young man, who could rival a modern wardrobe in sheer size.

Joe scanned the woman. Aside from the weapons and the red cape, nothing else stood out to him. Like all sailors of the Threshold, she was dressed in a linen shirt, trousers, and a coat. Unlike most other sailors of the Threshold, all of her clothes, with a sole exception of the shirt, were black in color.

She turned away from the bartender. Joe and her crossed gazes once again. The woman nodded, gifted him a shining smile, and walked out the front door of the ‘Rattlebones’. The group of thugs followed her example.

One dangerous specimen, Darling. Empathy, do you agree with me?

Of course, Memory! Look, my dear, you already have our support!

That’s not what I meant, you idiot…

The other Stats abstained from rushing in with their comments, but Joe could make his own conclusions.

Unfortunately, these conclusions couldn't resolve the main question. Why was this woman looking at him specifically? Or was it a coincidence, and she was looking for a lover for the night?

Joe shook his head. Why did he default to that line of thought?…

Maybe Kate was right. Maybe he did need a partner in his life.

“Joe, return to the land!”

He nearly jumped up. Xander tilted his head, pointing at George.

Xander’s ‘student’ stared at the bearded man with an inquiring look. George grinned and aimed his finger at the quartermaster.

“Tell me a nice fairy tale, Joseph. Why did this indurated person refer to you as a ‘student’?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself? He is sitting a meter away from you, captain George Firebreacher.”

The man shrugged. A shadow fell over his features.

“If I wanted, I would have. This man would never take anyone as his personal apprentice, regardless of circumstances. Isn’t it right, Zan?”

The black rhevalian was indulging in his sudden newfound interest in wine bottles - to the point where Joe believed that Xander was entirely capable of drilling two holes through them just by staring.

Seemed like he was on his own.