CHAPTER TWO
❛ 𝚃𝙾 𝙷𝚄𝙽𝚃 𝙰 𝙵𝙾𝚇 ❜

         CAPTAIN MARYA'S CABIN IS NOT LIKE THE OTHERS ABOARD THE REPENTANCE. Star-shaped lanterns hang from the ceiling, white and yellow candles, purple silks and threads laced around the window and her personal hammock. Aerial silks lie discarded near the back, along with what seems to be chalk and jurda balms. The warm aroma of incense and saltwater clings to the room, and while Marya finds it relaxing, Emerens can't help but wrinkle his nose. Not that he's one to talk, given that his cabin reeks of alcohol and chemicals.

         "He's a pirate," Neyar starts, dark hair woven into a braid behind her back. Olive green silks cling to her leather belt, and Marya isn't oblivious to the fact that they are new. Probably stolen from one of the ships she raided during the past days. Good. Green looks good on her.

         "A very, very rich pirate. He rides in a ship called the Volkvolny."

         "Wolf of the Waves." Emerens narrows his eyes from across the table, boot nearly kicking over a violet bottle with a strange liquid inside it. Marya gives him a look, which he promptly ignores.

         "Tacky," Marya comments, pushing Emerens' legs off her table. Bottles of different colored glass clink against each other as his feet slide off the counter.

         "It's a ship he stole from a Zemeni pirate off the coast of Ravka," Neyar continues, giving a slight side-eye to the blond. "Big schooner."

         "What about him?"

         Him. Sturmhond. Rich pirate with enough money or enough glory to send ships of slavers scurrying away from Red Harbor. Marya feels her jaw twitch. Despite her own title, pirate and slaver are terms that can be easily confused by regular folk. She can't help but wonder if this is one of those cases.

         "Not a lot of people were willing to talk," Neyar shakes her head, golden eyes narrowed. "Whoever he is, people seem to be loyal to him."

         "—Or afraid of him," Emerens adds. He reaches for a green bottle resting over her table, toying with it for a moment, before swiftly pocketing it. Marya can't find it in her to care.

         "Does he have contact with other slavers?"

         "That's the oddest thing," Neyar meets her Captain's gaze, "he doesn't seem to be knee-deep in any network of trafficking, Grisha or otherwise. But some did mention he grants passage to certain people."

         "Voluntary passage?" Emerens chuckles, turning his head towards Neyar. "From what I'm hearing, he sounds like just another money grabbing vulture."

         Neyar rolls her eyes. "Like you're one to talk."

         "Bite me," he retorts.

         Marya pinches the bridge of her nose, inhales, and exhales. Stray curls shift into her line of sight before she nudges them away. "The Kerch tend to use similar terms. Passage. Indenture. It's slaver trade regardless of how they choose to paint it." She shakes her head, gold earrings clinking together. "Is he from there?"

         Neyar shrugs her shoulders. "Some claim he's Kaelish, others say he's Ravkan— though he doesn't ride under any particular flag."

         Emerens scoffs a laugh. "Sounds Kerch enough to me."

         The Shu girl waits a beat before continuing. "There are rumors."

         Marya straightens. "What kind of rumors?"

         Neyar glances at Emerens, her preemptive glare already set onto her features. "People say he's looking for a Saint." She bites the inside of her cheek. "The Sun Summoner," she murmurs.

         Emerens laughs, and the sound rings in Neyar's ears like a mockery of the highest degree. She grinds her teeth together in annoyance. The gray-eyed boy loosely covers his mouth as he looks up at Neyar from his seat. "The Sun Summoner? Please."

         Marya's hand lands against the table with more force than she initially intended, though neither of them flinch. Neyar looks irritated. Emerens looks amused. "Something you want to say?" She asks him, and neither of the other two miss the venom sliding onto her tone.

         He shakes his head with that vicious smile of his. "He's not from Kerch— that's for sure." He waves his hand, as if completely discarding the possibility. "We're not that gullible. My money's on him being from Ravka."

         "Why's that?"

         He rolls his eyes. "'Cause Ravkans will make up just about anything to convince the world their country isn't on the brink of falling apart." He shrugs nonchalantly. "Or maybe he's some delusional sap from the Wandering Isle who wants to drink some fake Saint's blood for immortality or something."

Silence covers the cabin like one of the Captain's purple silks. Both Marya and Neyar stare at Emerens with exasperation and disbelief clinging to their features. Emerens, on the other hand, remains unfazed, as if merely commenting on the weather. Marya's eyes flutter closed as she takes a deep breath, opting to ignore him as she turns to Neyar.

         "Anything else?"

         "Yes," she nods once, jaw unclenching. "I tried to leave little to no stones unturned, but everyone I asked seemed to be on edge. Suspicious."

         Marya furrows her brows. This complicates things. "People loyal to him, or people in his pocket?"

         "His very rich pockets, if we're to believe her," Emerens gestures at the Quartermaster.

         Just when Marya was certain Neyar's teeth would grind away to nothing, the rope finally snaps. "Keep this up, and I'll tell Angus you tried to kiss his sister."

         It's not an empty threat. Angus is quite protective of his sister Fiona, and though he'll deny it, they're all well aware of the reason behind Lev's limp and that gnarly scar across his cheek. That, and all three of them have seen how the Squaller can quite literally steal the air from someone's lungs. Makes for disgusting background noise.

         The two glare at each other for a moment, and Marya can tell they're only keeping to civility because she's there— or at least because they're inside her cabin. Despite that, she wouldn't be surprised if one of them pushed the other too far.

         She wonders who would win.

         Apparently losing interest on their staring match, Emerens rolls his eyes. "Tch, so aggresive."

         Her patience is starting to dwindle. "I'll tell Angus both of you got handsy with Fiona if you don't stop talking." Marya massages her temples.

         When did being a pirate become such a stressful job? she questions, despite already being well aware of the answer. You know when.

         She blocks out the memory before it can fully take shape. Focus. Find Sturmhond. Gut him. No, scratch that— cut off each of his fingers until you find Karim. Then, you gut him.

         Except maybe gutting him would be a mercy. Maybe she could slice open his stomach and leave him as food for the birds and beasts. Or maybe, she could cut off his legs and leave him roped to the mast as a warning for other slavers. Maybe—

         Since when have you been so unnecessarily brutal? His voice echoes in her ears like he's sitting next to her. She can feel the smell of jurda on him, the familiar scent of clove, myrrh and smoke. If she were to concentrate enough, she'd feel herself leaning against his shoulder. Since you were stolen from us. From me.

         The reminder sends his voice away— but it'll return soon enough. Maybe, she thinks. Maybe the years at sea have finally rotted her brain to filth.

         She can care for that later. First, she finds this Sturmhond. But this is different— he is different. Other than drüskelle, she's never heard of people looking out of slavers. Of people watching their backs.

         Marya turns her brown eyes towards Neyar. "Do you think they'll warn him?"

         As quiet and astute as Neyar may be, if people care, they will remember. They will remember the picture of a Shu girl asking about this man they're so protective over.

         Or afraid of, she can hear Emerens add.

         "Probably."

         "Good," she nods, a plan already taking form within her head. "It gives us an opportunity to tail and find him."

         The corner of her lips curve upwards. "Way ahead of you," Neyar takes one of the maps Marya keeps nearby, opening it on the table. "He's said to be heading back to Ketterdam," she taps the island by the bottom of the map. "Looking for hired guns to work for him— that, or meet up with informants."

         Neyar and Marya share a look, grins mirroring each other like wolves on a hunt. Saints, she could kiss her. If Neyar's right and they do find him, she just might.

         "Get ready," Marya says as she strides past the two of them, shoving Emerens' legs off her table once again.

         The blond makes a sound of confusion. "For what?"

         "It's your lucky day, Emerens," Marya can feel her spirits lifting, her thirst of blood thrumming underneath her veins. "Haven't you heard? We're going to visit your home."

         Emerens exhales, and Marya knows she isn't imagining the glint of thrill dancing in his gray eyes.

         "To Ketterdam it is."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N.

aaaaahhh i couldn't help myself :)) double update it is

the golden trio of the repentance crew is finally here!!! (pterodactyl screech) they are all Bastards and i love each and every one of them and i really hope you guys do too <3

next chapter we'll finally get to see some familiar faces!!!! any ideas? 👀

[ Started: Jun 15th, 2023 ]
[ Posted: Jun 16th, 2023 ]

( word count: 1.6k )