The captain was a dangerous man. Leslie knew it like he knew the sky was blue. During his years serving Vincent Locklear aboard the Hood, he had seen a fleet's worth of engagements. Be it a skirmish with corsairs, territorial disputes with Olencia or Aventila, or even that dire day when they had turned on the Victorious and put a hundred-gun ship to the torch, he never doubted the outcome. As long as the captain was leading them, Leslie never felt as if they were outgunned.

So even now, outnumbered three to one by a constabulary that looked more like marines, all of them armed with rifles, Leslie's foremost worry was for Lila Abercrombie and the other poor bastards about to make Captain Locklear their enemy.

Nevertheless, it was still a relief when Vincent sheathed his sword, and holstered his pistol. "Sheriff," he said. "Did you really need to stop and impound that fool selling Aventila boisonberries on your way here?"

Sheriff Abercrombie, a well-weathered woman with greying hair and the pockmarked face that often came from firing a flintlock for a living, stopped with her mouth open, halfway to responding. She flickered through several reactions in quick succession. Confusion first, from the open mouth and sudden stillness. Understanding next, as she looked up, nodded, and pursed her lips. A frown, as she considered his words, followed by the sudden anger of someone comfortable with violence.

"You're in thin air as it is, captain," Lila warned, as she stepped towards them. "By the sounds of things, the Merchant Charter here wouldn't weep a thimble's worth of tears over your untimely departure. Especially if that departure forfeited your ship to their auction house."

"That joy would last you a few weeks, until the Admiralty started dropping Marines down here. Sheriff, you let that Charterhouse feed a ship to the wolves. The Sunward Matilda, cargo sloop."

"The Charterhouse has a relationship with some private actors here," Lila admitted. "None of them would take kindly to being called a pirate."

"Well now who sounds like a countinghouse solicitor?" Vincent asked. "Calling a bandit a violence entrepreneur doesn't change what he is. You fed a ship to your local pirate gangs, and unfortunately for both of us, that ship was contracted by the Admiralty. I'm here to find out what happened to it, and you're risking this happy hovel of malcontents by threatening to impound my ship."

"Not threatening," Lila replied firmly, but her shoulders slumped, and she spat into the dirt beside her feet. "It's already been done. Unless you can cut three-inch steel chain links, you're not leaving this island before I let you go."

"Now who's sailing in thin skies, sheriff?" Vincent asked, and Leslie was half worried his Captain was about to start a fight.

But when they were close enough to converse without shouting, Lila glanced about warily, up and down each street. "Not here. Please."

Vincent nodded, and held up his hands. "Seems I don't have a choice," the Captain said with a dramatic sigh, before looking up towards the ceiling. "Mercy, disengage. Anita, come on down, it sounds like we'll need to solve this the long way. Leslie..."

Vincent turned to him, and pointed at his sword. "Nice of you to carry around some cover, but I'd prefer you come to a battle armed."

"The hero always has the biggest sword," Leslie said, and he set the weapon on his shoulder. The marines eyed him warily, not quite turning their weapons away even if they weren't aiming through their sights.

It was foolish of them. Of the four people who made up the Raven Child's crew, he might be the least dangerous.

"Sheriff Abercrombie," Vincent said. He had slipped into his old military behaviour, with that rigid posture and slow, commanding tone. Like he was the one in command, not surrounded by a dozen hostile constables with rifles. "My crew and I formally surrender ourselves into your custody, under the expectation that whatever we are being detained for will be given a fair hearing."

"Very well. Arnold, lead the way back to the old Bailey." Lila Abercrombie gestured with a tilt of her head down the street. Most of the constables took positions behind Leslie and the others, with a pair of them taking the lead. One of them stepped up to Mercy and pointed at her cutlass, big Lila waved her off. "Don't worry about their weapons, Cassie, it must means extra paperwork. Not even sure you could lift that sword the big one's carrying."

The lead constable started walking, and Lila gestured for everyone else to follow. As they passed one street corner, and another, Leslie couldn't help but notice how empty the town seemed to be. The nearby market was completely deserted, with merchandise left lying on countertops and racks still set up on the street. Shop doors were closed, windows were newly barred, and the only eyes he could see were from nervous faces in the second and third storeys of the buildings.

"This isn't the first time this has happened," Leslie remarked as they marched along.

"No, having a ship crew kick up this much trouble, this quickly, is new," one of the constables replied.

"Mister Madrigan is right, Sheriff," Vincent said. "The people who live in these streets have had practice hiding from armed battles breaking out in their neighbourhoods."

"And who's fault is that, captain?" the sheriff asked.

"Yours, sheriff," Vincent said coldly. "If there is blame to be laid for this lawless degeneracy, it belongs on your shoulders."

The captain's forceful admonition struck the constabulary hard, and the rest of their walk passed in silence.

Behind them, far enough away that Leslie could barely see it, figures tentatively took back their now quiet streets.

The Bailey was a thick, low-walled fortress. Stone walls thicker than they were high ringed a small building inside, the walls were lined with cannons. Leslie gawked at the half-dozen long-nines, long barrelled nine-pounders meant to harass a ship at extreme range. Usually set on the bow of a ship, they were as common among pirates and corsairs as they were among the ships that hunted them.

Leslie also noticed the absence of real naval firepower. None of the guns were new, none of them could fire larger than a twelve-pound shot, and the rust that a few of them had developed would have had a sailor flogged for negligence. "The old Bailey looks more like a supply depot for the local pirates," he said.

One of his escorts flinched at the comment. More telling, none of them disagreed,

The constables escorted them inside, where Lila immediately began to disarm her rifle. She rolled the ball back out, locked the hammer, and hit the butt with her hand until the pouch of blasting powder slid out. "Give those guns a quick inspection before you rack-em. And set the kettle. Arnold, Iris, Castillo, go make sure the Bailey is clear of anyone who doesn't belong."

Vincent, as always, seemed to command whatever room he stood in. He sat down in one of the guest chairs near the desk, and tapped his finger on the desk. "Sheriff," he said, gesturing towards what was probably Lila's own chair. "You need our help."

The town's Sheriff's shoulders sunk, and her head tilted down towards the floor. She sighed, and looked deflated, like an empty lift balloon. "I do, Captain." She reached into a shelf, and took out a tea set. She set five cups out, and sat down behind her desk. "I imagine you've seen enough of this place to understand why."

"You have children working with mercury to make hats," Anita interjected, and she emphasized her point by rapping her fist on the sheriff's desk. "That ought to be enough. But you have slaves and your mercantile collective sponsors pirates. This is a Corsair's island that merchants are profiteering from."

"You ain't wrong," Lila admitted. "Over this last year, they've been slipping further and further from the laws they're supposed to abide by. But they make the Merchants' Charter a lot of money, so we're all encouraged to hold a rose under our noses when we start sniffing around."

"Condemning children to mercury poisoning is tolerable, but invoking the wrath of the Admiralty is where you draw your line," Anita said, and her anger had both of her fists and her jaw clenched.

Leslie wanted to stand up, say something, but he didn't know if anything he could do would help. He was both relieved and ashamed when the captain stood, and set his hand on Anita's shoulder. "Steady. Whatever the sheriff is about to ask of us, likely it's going to be to their benefit."

Reassurance to his friend, and a quiet threat to the sheriff. Captain Locklear would have done well in the Calmoori court.

"Well, if I make a move on the Charter here, I need to be able to justify it to the authorities back in Vol Ayre. So I can't just kick in their doors and line them up on the wall unless I find something incriminating," Lila Abercrombie said. She cursed, and spat on the floor. "Slavery just gets written off as an overzealous use of labour contracts to pay back debts. Child labour as a way to help pay for the education the kids are provided with. What I need are the documents that prove they're painting over their crimes."

"You won't find them," Mercy said. Leslie was surprised to hear the second officer speak. "There's no need to hide the truth when they're smothered it in the right lies. Like you said, the Merchants' Charter is paid well. You won't convince them to act with things they already know. What you need is something so heinous the Merchants can't ignore it. Which you won't find."

"The other option," Vincent added before the sheriff had a chance to respond. "Is to invoke the ire of someone the Charter can't ignore. And lucky for you, I can provide that. All you need to do is prove the ship I'm chasing, the Sunward Matilda, has a bounty set on it. Find that in writing, and the Admiralty will come down on them."

"That's good," Lila Abercrombie admitted. She smiled, and nodded happily just as the water started to boil. She got up, and poured water into the pot. "Only trouble is that me and mine aren't welcome in the Charterhouse. Particularly later today, since they have some sort of gala. And we're known, so there's no slipping in."

"So you need our help," Vincent said. "That isn't going to be cheap."

"Taking the anchors off your ship sounds like value enough," Lila countered.

"Do it now, and I might forget your name when I have to write my reports to the Admiralty," Vincent countered, with just enough force in his voice to make Lila jump, nearly spilling the teapot as she put leaves in it. "You've cost me time and leagues, both of which I need to catch the Matilda before this island's pirates do. You have some debts to pay off, Sheriff, and you're asking me for an awful lot more."

"Probably not you personally, captain," Mercy said. "That shootout likely made your name rather infamous."

"True," Vincent admitted. The captain spun about, and faced him. "Mister Madrigan, think you can wade through that viper's nest?"

"I imagine so," Leslie said. He coughed, and let himself reach back into the lessons of his childhood. He straightened his back, and smoothed away the grin on his face. "If this lot were a match for Calmoori nobility, they wouldn't reside so far from the Charter Council in Vol Ayre. Though, if I may suggest, we should make sure the Sheriff commits to suitable compensation. Preferably spendable compensation, vague promises of recompense depreciate quickly."

Lila blinked in confusion, but the captain gave him an appreciate nod. "I concur, Mister Madrigan. Would you suggest the constabulary compensate is by restocking our ship with food and fuel, as well as preparing us for a priority departure?"

"I would indeed, Captain. Further, I believe I saw a quantity of Casperan wool outside one of those warehouses. Fine stuff, prized by the Wayfarers, isn't it?" Leslie directed his question to Mercy.

"Now wait just a damned minute," Lila complained.

"It is indeed. Nothing keeps you warm in bad weather quite like it," Mercy said.

"Sounds like that might be a suitable apology for the inconvenience you've put us through," Vincent concluded, with an approving nod in Leslie's direction. "As well as whatever expenses Mister Madrigan needs to charge during this operation."

Lila cringed, and shook her head. But a moment later, she picked up a cup of tea in one hand, and extended the other towards the captain. "Suppose I can just misplace one of their money boxes when I arrest the lot of them. Fine, Captain Locklear, we have an accord."

Vincent shook her hand, and took the offered cup of tea. "Well, as long as you dress the part, I doubt anyone will recognize you from our dust-up earlier. I'd send Mercy with you, but she looks the part of a wayfarer, and the Charter's a collection of prejudiced little shits. Besides, Anita's already seen the inside of the place."

"Wait," Anita exclaimed, "I'm going back in there?"

"I'm not sure," Leslie said thoughtfully, and he asked a question that he had wanted to ask Anita for years. "Do you own an evening gown?"