Vaskir lovingly washed his blade, blind to the eyes studying him. Covens watched him with interest, feeling a strange urge to maintain her own weapon, even though Vaskir had seen to it not three days prior.

‘Does he seem off to you?’ Pravin asked, catching Covens staring. She hadn’t heard him coming because of the horrendous creaking of the ship

‘A little,’ she answered. Keeping her distance from her new ‘allies’ was becoming harder day by day. Cradow was easy to ignore but made for the best sparring partner, and Covens would be damned if she let her skills slip. Pravin and her shared a love for frugality, quickly becoming closely acquainted and sharing stories of their well-earned deals, or, more often, sharing stories of the close people in their lives making bad deals. Vaskir, at first, came across as a cold warrior, not wearing his personality on his sleeve like Cradow and Pravin. But it only took a single conversation to find a considerate and softly spoken man underneath. He reminded her of a well-traveled version of her brother.

‘He only starts religiously cleaning his weapons when something is really bothering him,’ Pravin said, sitting on the ground beside Covens’ hammock. He elbowed the hammock, managing to hit her directly on the butt through the cloth. ‘It’s probably heart tremors. I think you and Cradow finally managed to worm your ways in.’ She chuckled. He was gossiping with her… She looked back at Vaskir, he had removed the handle and was carefully cleaning the inside. She doubted he was so carefully taking care of his blade to protect her with it. He had kept himself busy during their entire journey. It had made for a good excuse not to speak with her… He may have figured something out.

‘I think the whole pirate incident just had him on edge. You don’t expect to get attacked in the middle of the ocean,’ she answered.

‘That’s not it,’ Pravin said, making nothing of her statement. ‘Go and talk to him. He refuses to tell me, but maybe a womanly opinion will get him to open up.’ She arched an eyebrow at Pravin but he missed it, distracted by a card game starting up nearby. She went back to staring at Vaskir. Cradow walked over to him and sat down on one of the mushroom barrels. He gestured towards his knuckles then Vaskir’s dabbing cloth. Vaskir gave him a frank look, then sighed; he took the cloth and lightly pressed it against both of Cradow’s closed fists. Vaskir started articulating what looked like a warning but Cradow had already gotten up and walked away. Covens snorted. Then quickly tamed the emotion, it was prudent not to get attached.

Fuck it. She got out of the hammock and made her way over. She sat on the barrel Cradow had taken previously.

‘Need something?’ Vaskir asked, not looking up from his work.

‘Pravin is worried about you,’ she said.

‘Pravin worries about everything,’ he said and looked up at her. ‘You worried because he’s worried?’ She gave him a direct stare.

‘You don’t trust me,’ she said. Vaskir’s expression didn’t flicker. It was probably his most annoying quality. His ability to shut down all reactions and just stare at you.

‘Yes,’ Vaskir answered. He couldn’t quite manage the joking tone he had taken with her previously.

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘And don’t give me any shit about not trusting people. We’ve been travelling together for 2 weeks and I saw you pick stinging nettles out of Cradow’s taint. You don’t do that unless there’s a whole lot of trust.’ Vaskir didn’t laugh.

‘Unlike Cradow, you’ve got something to hide.’ Vaskir said. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. ‘And I think, seeing as how we’re all in this shitstorm together, keeping a dangerous secret from us is a bad move.’

‘How’d you know it’s dangerous?’ she said.

‘I’ve worked with Monver before. Tell me, how come you show up as one of his lieutenants on the one mission that goes south?’ he asked. Covens just stared at him. He pulled away from her, putting his half-assembled blade on the ground between them. ‘And I found it strange, really strange, how a random scout managed to find me and Pravin in time to save our lives. Then, shit, not report the body of a dead Ascendant? That was very kind of him. You probably told him not to say anything, right? Covens, you’ve been lying to us from the start. Do you even want the money? That can’t be it, you could have just sold your trauma pill and lived quietly for the rest of your days.’ It was Covens' turn to become expressionless. A thick silence stretched out between the two Ascendants, thick enough to drown out the general clamour of the hold. Even the ship seemed to sense the gravity of the conversation and fall silent. ‘What were you planning to do, when we got to Chilbrow? Turn us in for favour?’

‘I would have just left with the manual. I wouldn’t turn you in,’ she said.

‘If you just wanted the manual, why go through all the trouble of bringing the Consortium along? Why not just steal it and use it?' Vaskir asked. Covens was feeling strangely relieved. It was nice having someone intelligent enough to see through her bullshit; it was even nicer that he didn’t explode in anger.

‘Let’s get Cradow and Pravin. We need to speak in my room,’ she said.

Ten minutes later, the 4 Ascendants were gathered in Covens’ room. Cradow was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. His usual grin missing as he chose to quietly listen. Covens was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, trying to gather her thoughts. Pravin had taken the chair, leaning forward and looking worried. Vaskir was standing by the door. Covens had not missed the fact that he had reassembled his longsword and was wearing it on his hip. She took a deep breath.

‘I’m an Ascendant of Clan Covens. We’re a vassalized part of Clan Fairbright,’ she began.

‘I’ve heard of Clan Fairbright,’ Pravin said. ‘They’re a neutral clan based in the Fingers. Good reputation. I tried joining them as a house guard before turning to mercenary work.’ Covens scoffed.

‘Good reputation,’ she muttered. ‘When I was six, the Fairbrights clan leader: Maxim, had another one of his breaks. He became massively paranoid. He thought my family, my clan, were going to try and assassinate him. We weren’t. Back in those days, my family was content. We lived on the main grounds and I still remember playing with the Fairbright children. Nell, Obby… Well, Maxim became convinced that we were on the verge of striking out. That my father, Strellar, who had diligently trained all of the house guards and half of the Fairbright children, was suddenly planning on turning them against him. So, like all Ascendants who see a threat, he struck first. My older sister, 12 at the time, was dragged out of the house and forced to duel Maxim’s best warrior—Jason. He toyed with her relentlessly. Cutting her, calling her a traitor. All the while Maxim taunted my father, saying that the children of assassins and traitors deserved to die just as much as their parents. I barely understood what was going on. But when I saw Jason slit Sophia’s throat I understood that I wouldn’t be seeing my sister again. I burst into tears as my entire family was called up to duel—1 at a time. Maxim said that to uphold the Fairbright name each and every person would have the chance to fight and prove their innocence. My mother went next. She wasn’t even an Ascendant. Dad married her for love, not for her strength. Jason cut her down. Finally, it was me, my baby brother, and my father. When my father stepped up to fight, despite only being a teir 1 Ascendant, he managed to cut Jason’s eye out of his socket. He would have killed him, too, if Maxim had not intervened, pushing my father down with his aura to give Jason enough time to recover. I can still feel the weight of it. The lack of control. How open it was—like taking a glimpse through the hull of a plague ship and seeing the rats inside. They let me and my baby brother live. We were both too young to fight, and I think Maxim snapped out of whatever madness had taken him after my father’s death. I remember him falling to his knees and apologising to me, hugging me. He cried and told me he was too harsh, that he should have given my father a chance to explain. This went on for weeks until he finally tired of having me around and told Jason to train me. My baby brother was luckier, bless him. Maxim’s wife, Patricia, fell in love with the little boy and took him as her own. I remember, years later, I finally got a chance to speak with him alone. I tried to explain that night, reliving every terror, but he didn’t understand. I was a distant stranger, his sister only in name.’ She took a deep breath, steadying herself. ‘Thus began a life of work and misery. I was ostracized, being the only real surviving member of the “traitor” clan. Jason saw no reason to train me, so handed me over to Bowood. My days with him started with a beating, then training with the men. I spent 3 years as his servant more than I did as his pupil. My only real companion was Balfred, kind sop that he is.’ She looked up at Vaskir. ‘Thanks for not killing him.’ Vaskir nodded.

‘And that’s how it was for 20 years,’ she continued. ‘Until, 5 weeks ago, our scouts at Doro discovered the ruins of Saint Vinnow’s gravesite. Seeing my chance, I pleaded for Bowood to take me along. After that didn’t work I ran away from the clan, taking what treasures I could get my hands on, and followed them across the ocean. Once I knew where the grave was, I sold the information to the Consortium, bought my way onto the expedition with a wind fruit, and well, you know what happens next. I was following Bowood since the beginning. He would want to take credit for the manual. After he had killed the two of you I was planning on attacking him and getting the manual… but he didn’t kill you. Watching him die the way he did; it was magical. I couldn’t let you and Pravin die after what you achieved. So I fed you my Trauma pill and pulled Pravin’s head out of the mud.’

‘And we thank you for that. Right, Vaskir?’ Pravin said, looking to make sure Vaskir agrees.

‘Yeah… thanks,’ Vaskir said. Cradow exhaled loudly.

‘Fuck. What a shitshow your life has been,’ Cradow said. Covens chuckled.

‘You didn’t want the manual for yourself,’ Vaskir said. ‘You wanted to give it to one of the other clans in exchange for… them going to war against the Fairbrights?’ Covens nodded.

‘There’s very few things that can lead a peaceful clan to war, or a warlike clan to cooperation. A 3rd tier manual is one of them,’ she said.

‘We’re about to arrive in Port Basker,’ Vaskir said, carefully studying Covens' next response. ‘If you gift them that manual, they’ll worship the ground you walk on and get you that harem of cute boys you want.’ Covens chuckled. ‘What’s your next move?’ Vaskir asked. Covens stared into the middle distance. Before she could answer Cradow spoke up.

‘It doesn't matter what she says. We all either like her too much or want to help her get revenge on those bastards to let her walk. This meeting, the four of us, together—is fate touched.’ He looked at Covens. ‘We’ll help you, Miss Covens,’ he said, uncharacteristically serious. He turned to Vaskir. ‘And if you think the Baskers would do anything other than steal that manual, or torture its location out of her, you’re not half as smart as Pravin says you are.’ He turned back to Covens. ‘We’re with you. Just keep on following these two,’ he nodded his head to Vaskir and Pravin, ‘and you’ll have a better shot at revenge than with any dog-ridden clan. They got the aspect of perseverance about them. Trust your friends, girl. They’ll do right by you.’ Covens was staring at Cradow, tears forming as she looked between him and Pravin’s determined nodding. She turned to Vaskir. He was looking down, his face hidden behind his hair. He suddenly righted himself, letting out a big sigh as he tucked his hair back behind his ears. His expression was one of anger. Anger for her, no longer about her.

‘Thank the gods,’ Vaskir said. ‘I thought she wanted to lure us into a trap. Turns out she’s just as tragic and fucked in the head as we are.’ Pravin burst out laughing. Cradow was galvanised. And as Covens let the tears start flowing all she could feel was gratitude and the beginning of a familial bond.