The city rumbled around Isla. Mist shrouded the sky in a dull gray. Droplets clung to everything like a dying man. Surfaces were made slick with moisture. The shoulder of Isla's coat was soaked from where she leaned it against the brick wall of the bakery. The damp chilled her face and mist wove through her hair, but neither the world or the weather had any impact on her. She was a stone in a river's tide, unmoving.

Across from her, through the gaps in the carriages, horses, and people she stared at a glowing manor encased in a tall iron fence. After minutes of studying the estate, she had come to truly dislike the one who owned it. Every facet of his domain flaunted his wealth. The manor that was a towering symbol of his ego: the grounds that held silver, bronze, and copper sculptures that glistened with mist, and the fence that surrounded it all was a jeer to all that walked by.

The Seau Islands were known for two things: knowledge and wealth. Tella was the home to the biggest and most prestigious university and Isha was the home of the kingdom's rarest gems and finest metals. It bred artisans of the highest quality.

The iron fence around the merchant's estate was a work of art and one that oozed money. Every single piece was handcrafted with twists at the center and curved points at the top. A fortune had been spent all to smirk at the ones who looked upon it and those who entered.

Having stared at the smug barrier, Isla had no trouble believing this man would renege on his deal to Lord Sutherland. The way in which he waved his position around and the fact that she had to deal with this haughty merchant at all galled Isla. There was no way around the situation though.

As she watched a delivery carriage that stopped before the gates, Hawk rounded the corner of the fence and motioned for her. Isla left the cover of the bakery's wall and cut through the throng.

Where every other city was a chaos of sound, Isha was a single hum. People talked, they did not shout. Carriages trundled by, they did not charge. Shop keepers beckoned to customers, they did not call out. Neighbor to the island of knowledge they joined hands and created a society that was ruled by dignity and control. The merchant and his estate were the strangers here.

"I found our in," Hawk said.

Isla kept pace with him as he guided her along the iron barrier. Their attempts to talk with the merchant Fantine had been cut short when the guards within the gates wouldn't allow them entrance.

It was after that Isla had taken up root across the way, searching for a way to get to the man. Each second had toyed with her. After a voyage to two weeks, they had arrived at dusk and they could not waste a single day. Time beat against her, wearing her down like the ocean beating against the cliffs.

"Right there," Hawk said, pointing to where the newly arrived delivery carriage was halting outside the manor.

All the windows beamed with light and silhouettes cut through the glow. The hurried pace reaffirming what minutes of watching had told Isla, Fantine was giving a ball.

"We'll have to use one of the guest's carriage," Isla said.

Though barging into a manor crowded with people was less than a desirable situation, there was no time to lose. In agreement, the pair returned to the ship, all the while discussing what complications the night might hold.

By the time they reached the docks, there was no light left in the sky. Pinpricks of stars appeared and their way was guided by the lanterns swaying on deck. The walkway rattled as Isla and Hawk climbed up. The sound announced their return and the men paused, waiting for orders.

None knew of the gravity of their predicament, but they had been around long enough to know when there was something more to a job than a simple collection. Without a single word passed around, they all knew something hinged on this.

As Isla stepped aboard, she surveyed who was on top. True to what he had said before, Raif was there, barely having ventured below in the previous weeks. Sparrow was beside him, a second shadow.

"We're making the collection now," Isla said. "We will not be staying here. Once we have what we need we will be leaving. Brockton, Orin, Hawk, and I will be dealing with the collection. Trager, Dox, Bin will be on watch. Health and Roland, you are to get whatever supplies we need. The rest of you watch Raif, he does not leave this ship. Understood?"

Murmurs of assent rippled through the crew. Even without her admitting to what they knew, they felt the pressure building, twisting nerves. Isla motioned to Hawk, Brockton, and Orin.

"Get what you need. No casualties, but well-armed."

Understanding the guidelines, they slipped away as Sparrow left Raif's side to talk to Isla.

"What is my job, Captain?" he asked.

"First, you need to get my weapons and second I need you to watch Raif," she said. "You don't let him leave your side while I'm gone. If he tries to escape you attack him."

The assignment was the equivalent of asking a puppy to guard a horse, but it was one that needed to be given. Without a job, Isla knew Sparrow was likely to try and tagalong with some of the men leaving the ship and she couldn't have that. As for Raif, there would be more than enough men to watch him.

Behind Sparrow, Raif fought back a smile, seeming to understand the reasoning behind Isla's order. He rested against a barrel, arms crossed, not at all phased by her decision.

Dressed in frayed trousers, a loose shirt, and boots - that no longer shined, he matched the rest of the crew. One of them. But that was not true. Despite what he had shown over the weeks of their travel, Isla didn't trust him. There was every reason for him to want to slip away.

As Sparrow bounded away, Raif strode forward. He slipped his hands into his pockets, comfortable enough to not be on guard around her anymore. The shift had been a disconcerting one, where he had every reason to balk her and her authority, he didn't, falling into line like the rest of the men.

"What's the rush?" he asked. "Why do we leave only after we've arrived?"

"That is none of your concern."

"No, but it is the men's and you haven't told them or else I would have overheard it."

The statement poked at her, wedging in a splinter of doubt into her mind. She didn't tell them for needless worry would only add to the burden they carried over the debt that had yet to be paid.

But was that a fault they would hold against her? She forced the notion away, she knew she was doing the right thing, seeing the weariness in Hawk's eyes told her so. The men did not need that.

"Worry will not help them," she said.

As if to reaffirm this, Sparrow returned, weapons in hand, his spirit untroubled. She accepted them, strapping her Kesh rods to her back and buckling on her sword and sliding her knife into her boot.

"Planning on facing trouble?" Raif asked, eyeing the array of weapons.

"Yes."

Hawk, Brockton, and Orin returned, all equipped for a battle where they were outnumbered. As the group climbed into the walkway, Isla glanced back. The eyes of the remaining crew members were on her, a silent form of support. They knew that she knew they were aware of how much the collection mattered. She nodded and disappeared.

As they cut through the city, Isla and Hawk filled Brockton and Orin in on what they planned to do. When they were once again outside the merchant's estate the scene had transformed. The gates were open and a line of carriages trailed in front of it as guards made note of the occupants inside each one. Lanterns had been positioned by the sculptures on the grounds, spotlighting them in the darkness.

Splitting up, Hawk and Isla walked parallel to the line of waiting nobles. As they passed one carriage that had only a single coachman and bore the weight of only two occupants, they made their move. Opening the door, they entered and had their knives trained on the finely dressed man and woman in the space of a breath.

The couple pressed back against the seat, tensing at the suddenness. The woman reached for her husband's hand, gripping it in her gloved one, but that was the only sign of fear she showed. They were Seau after all, control and calm were bred into them.

"What do you want?" the man asked, his voice as deep and smooth as Hawk's.

Isla respected the man for taking charge of a situation where he was weak.

"We want nothing from you but the use of your carriage," Isla said, calmly. "We have no intention of harming you. When we reach the gates, stick your head out so the guard may know who you are and allows you entrance."

The woman pressed her lips together, guessing at the reasons behind this request. Both Hawk and Isla noticed this.

"Don't worry, madam," Hawk said. "We merely seek an audience with Fantine, one we were not granted this evening. We have no intention of harming any other guests or stealing."

Whether it was the certainty in his voice or the fact that it came with the Seau lilt, the woman relaxed. Seeing the bit of trust given, Hawk took another step towards easing the couple.

"We apologize for the manner in which we barged in," he said. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Hawk and this is Isla."

At the revert to the familiar niceties, the couple bobbed their heads in acknowledgment.

"This is Suri," the man said. "And I am Alf."

"A pleasure," Hawk said.

Isla sensed the shift and stowed away her knife, knowing Hawk had earned their cooperation and the unspoken threat of pain was no longer needed. As they rolled up to the gates, Hawk and Isla sank deeper into the shadows of the carriage, waiting.

Following their instructions, Alf poked his head out and had a brief exchange with the guard. They crossed the barrier and the last breath of tension inside melted away.

"After you leave," Hawk said, "tell your driver to make a detour to the left side the manor to the servants' entrance. After this, you will not see us again."

Alf nodded. The carriage made a wide arc before stopping. The door was opened by a footman. Before either Isla or Hawk could be seen Alf filled the doorway, blocking them. When he stepped down, he offered his hand to his wife. She accepted, never glancing at the pair. It was the only act of defiance that she showed.

The door was shut, the pair sealed in silence. For a moment, Isla wondered if Alf would give them up, but the carriage didn't complete the circle instead, trotted off towards the servants' entrance.

Isla and Hawk alighted, startling the driver with their presence. He blinked, but said nothing, flicking the reins and moving off. Hiding in the shadows of the manor, Hawk and Isla waited. Their wait was short as another carriage came into view, depositing Brockton and Orrin.

"Have any trouble?" Isla asked.

Brockton shook his head. "None."

The group entered the manor and were thrown into a tumult of moving figures. Servants rushed through corridors, their shoes beating a hurried rhythm on the stone floor. The scent of roasted meat, fine wine, and spices wafted around the manor, a hint of the dinner to come. The chaos acted as a shield for the foursome, servants too focused on their tasks to notice the intruders.

It wasn't until they left the mayhem of the servants' wing that their appearance was noticed. A thin maid stuttered at the sight of the strangers. Disregarding her current occupation, she darted away.

In response, they held their position, taking inventory of the manor's interior. As with the outside, it boasted of Fantine's fortune with intricate bronze sconces, candelabras, and chandeliers.

From a doorway opposite them, a tall, bald man in a steward's uniform strode forward, the startled maid trailing him. The man gave no sign that he found the armed strangers surprising at all.

"Yes?" he asked, his lack of greeting his way of showing his disapproval of them.

"You will tell Fantine that we are waiting in his study," Isla said. She gestured to the maid. "And you will show us the way."

Without letting the steward acknowledge this, Isla motioned for the maid to lead the way. With a bewildered glance back at the steward, she did as expected. They were led through a hallway that butted up to the ballroom and the strains of music - woven with talk and laughter - could be heard.

When they were closed into the study, Isla was reminded of why she hated this man. If the estate was a monument to his wealth, then the study was a shrine to himself. The floor gleamed, the dark walls a backdrop for the priceless pieces of metalwork, the desk a marriage of iron and wood, the windows a patchwork of glass and steel.

The room was a tapestry of beauty but one that didn't fit with the Seau culture. It was ostentatious and held none of the island's pride in understated dignity. Again Isla didn't understand who this anomaly was.

She was taken from her thoughts by the sounds of approaching footsteps. It was not a single pair or even a set, it was a troop of heavy steps. She locked eyes with Hawk.

"He brought guards," he said.

Isla sighed. "Of course."

She pointed to Orin and Brockton then to the right side of the double doors. As they took up their spots, Hawk and Isla took the opposite.

"No one dies tonight," she said.

The men nodded. Isla glanced at the maid who was now frozen in the center of the room.

"Is there a back door?" Isla asked her.

She shook her head, words unreachable.

"Hide behind the desk."

The girl scampered away, tucking herself into the narrow space. The thundering of boots grew louder and Isla guessed that they were outnumbered by at least two to one. She drew out the rods strapped to her back, rolling them in her hands.

The doors burst open and Fantine charged in with all the subtly and control of a raging bull. The second Isla laid eyes on his pale complexion, it all made sense. He wasn't Seau, merely an arrogant man who believed he deserved to make a profit off the work of others.

Behind him marched a contingent of eight guards. When Fantine found an empty room, he spun around, red with anger. Isla and Brockton shut the doors, cutting off the only exit and pinning themselves against a small troop.

"How dare you!" Fantine bellowed.

His emotions were as turbulent as the guards were restrained. They were a solemn line of shadows all armed with their Kesh rods.

"Take them," he yelled.

The guards did not move, as calm as a windless night.

"We don't want to hurt you," Isla said.

"We have our orders," the man in the center said.

"Then we are sorry."

"As are we."

The two groups charged each other. Isla raced forward, her sights set on two men in the center. She was only a breath away when she dropped to her knees and slid between them, ramming her rods into the back of their knees. Their legs buckled and they hit the ground.

Spinning on her knee, Isla slammed her rod into the back of one of the guard's head. He pitched into the floor as she swung towards the second guard. He blocked her blow and aimed for her ribs. His rod grazed her side as she stepped back and brought her opposite rod down on his leg. He grunted but remained upright, hitting her back. Pain exploded along her spine.

Air swooshed past her ear a second before she dropped, avoiding the blow to her head. She swept one foot along the floor, kicking the man's legs out from under him. The instant he hit that ground, Isla aimed for his head and he stayed down.

When she stood, her heart was racing and adrenaline pumped through her dulling her pain and making every limb vibrate with strength. She gripped her rods, ready for more. Around her, most of the guards were unconscious. As she took stock, the remaining ones joined their companions.

All that was left was Fantine, who had his back pressed against the desk, all color drained from his face. He was a man who had never missed a meal and often had more than he needed. Everything about him didn't fit with the place he lived. Isla didn't know how he had remained there so long.

"I believe you have something for Lord Sutherland," Isla said, her voice steady.

Fantine narrowed his eyes at Isla, his anger returning.

"I have nothing-"

In one seamless motion, Isla pulled out her knife and threw it at him. The handle collided with his skull and he crashed to the ground in a daze of pain and shock. When his eyes focused, Isla was standing over him.

"I believe you have something for Lord Sutherland."

The glare he gave her was filled with promises of revenge and death. It was one that had little effect on her. It was one she had received many times.

"I believe I do," he bit out.

Isla took a step back, allowing the man to pick himself up. With the knife in her hand, she gestured towards the door. Fantine cut a path through his fallen guards out of the study. Followed closely by Isla and Hawk, the merchant directed them away from the ball still in motion to an opposite wing of the manor.

Fantine unlocked a heavy door and the group descended into a dimly lit passageway that smelled strongly of dirt and stale air. At the end were two guards and an iron gate leading to the merchant's treasury. At the sight of Fantine and the group, the guards straightened. Isla poked the tip of her dagger into Fantine's back, a warning.

"There is no cause for alarm," the rotund man said, waving off the guard's concern.

The guards stepped aside, allowing Fantine to access the lock. His keys clinked together and the gate swung open. For a second, Isla's mind raced ahead, to a spark of hope that the task was completed and the deadline met. In that fraction of distraction, Fantine attacked.

Moving faster than his weight would suggest, he whipped out one of the guard's knives, spun and slashed at Isla's side. Pain seared through her as the blade cut deep, making the world fade for a moment.

Before she could find her thoughts and retaliate, Hawk pulled her away and Brockton and Orin disarmed the guards and Hawk punched Fantine in the face, breaking his nose. The man cried out, holding his face.

"What you owe, now!" Hawk yelled, his patience at an end.

As Brockton helped Isla staunch the blood - using one of the guard's sleeves, Hawk yanked Fantine into the treasury and retrieved what they were there for.

When they returned, he knocked the man unconscious. Though he held no expression, Isla could have sworn it was satisfying. Whether for what Fantine had done to Isla, or for how the man was a blight to his home, she wasn't sure.

Patched up enough for the moment, they left the manor by the servants' entrance. Sneaking around to the front, they commandeered one of the carriages to the port. The journey was a vague memory of passing buildings and faceless people.

By the time they disembarked, the sleeve Isla held against her side was soaked through and weakness was seeping in.

But the rest that awaited her on deck wasn't going to be had, for one look at the ship told them all that something was very wrong.

**********************************************************************

The blood of a pirate. 🩸⚔️

😱 Oh my snapping sails!! What's wrong! 😭 Why must it end there! Oh cruel trick of fate to leave us deserted on this island of waiting! 🏝

😁 Well let's be honest you know I have a love for cliff hangers so you can't be that surprised by this! Now share the treasure of your thoughts with me! What do you make of all of this? 🗯💭💬🐳

I have to say I love the Seau (Say-oo) culture. The way they live on logic and control is very interesting to me! It's so interesting in fact I that plan to write a whole other book that revolves around it sometime in the future.

Also I want to teach myself the Kesh now. Be warned, I'll be terrible at it so don't come within a mile of me or you're likely to get hit. 😲🤕🥴

La question du chapitre (French): If you could make one rule that everyone had to follow what would it be?

My rule: you had to treat everyone you met with respect.

Vote for ships, comment on sails, follow the North Star (obviously because that's how you know where to go!)