Port Trivv, nestled deep in the northern islands, was cold enough to make Archer want to seek the safety of warmth in every passing building. He was freezing to his bones, and he wasn't unthawing any time soon.

"It's damn cold," Britter said, for perhaps the trillionth time.

"It's damn cold," Archer added.

The two of them, along with Rusher, were walking through the streets of Port Trivv with nothing more than their crew long sleeves, constantly cursing the weather. In the past few months, Archer spent most of his time with Rusher and Britter, watching the inferior crew members go about the exhausting work that had once been his job. He steered clear of Denver, choosing to spend his days in fake friendships instead.

"Why do people live where it's this cold?" Rusher asked, breathing out on his hands and rubbing them together vigorously.

"Meat doesn't rot," Archer said. He was far too cold to string together full sentences.

Britter looked over. "Hey—that's a good point."

Archer tapped the side of his head. "Good for more than strategy."

Rusher took a few excited steps forward. "This is the one!" he exclaimed. He gestured to the building on their right.

"That is not the one. It had a red door," Britter pointed out.

"Do you know what paint is?" the navigator threw back.

"They did not paint the pub in the last year," Britter argued.

Archer rolled his eyes. They'd been looking for this famous 'pub' for almost two hours. Alexander and Liam claimed it offered them the time of their lives last year—some variation of extremely cheap drinks and good company—but it was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you think it could be near the south side?" Archer asked. "It might be warmer there," he added under his breath.

"No. North side," Britter said. "Keep walking."

"It's freezing."

"Why didn't you just ask Novari?" Britter wondered. "She'd remember."

"She was gone when I woke up," Rusher replied. "Her and half the crew. No clue where they went."

"Maybe we should get up earlier," Archer pointed out.

It appeared he'd wandered his way to the popular side of the ship. The decreased workload and hours in the strategy room left him constantly in the presence of higher ranks. When he wasn't avoiding Denver, he was with Britter and Rusher, playing darts or cards and waving away anything with liquor in it. Sometimes he'd be avoiding eye contact with Bardarian, other times he'd be fighting to make it with Silta.

On some occasions, when he came down to his room late at night, sometimes even in the early hours of the morning, he'd find her there. She'd always be doing something nonchalant, so he often felt as though he were intruding on her rather than her lounging in his room.

She was there last night, long legs crossed over his covers and back against the wall. She'd been reading something, but she said something simple when he walked in, gave him some bare minimum greeting. It'd been mere seconds before he'd been back in her little trance.

That morning, Silta was gone when he rolled over for the first time—an extremely rare occurrence. So he'd went back to sleep until nearly noon, followed Britter into port for food shortly after, and had been wandering around since then. The sun was beginning to dip already.

"It's getting late," Archer said.

"Minnow's afraid of the dark?"

He thought he'd outgrown that nickname, but apparently he still had a ways to go—and truthfully, he was a little scared. For some reason, he was terrified they were going to be attacked by the same person that had gotten to Silta. Although that was unreasonable on many levels, it still maintained itself as his irrational fear.

"That's it!" Rusher shouted. "I'm sure this time."

Britter glanced up and squinted. "Thank the Devil," he said, quickening his pace. "I'm turning blue."

Archer followed them into the doorway, shouts pouring out of the building. Warmth immediately hit him like a wave, and he puffed on his hands once more to warm them up.

"Evening, boys. Took you a while." Lyra said, handing Archer a drink.

"You're here already?" Rusher asked.

"We're all here," Lyra answered. She gestured to the room, where the entire crew were spread out among the various tables, the environment already hazing with smoke and potent with liquor.

Archer handed his drink to Rusher, who took it without second thought. "We spent hours finding this place and they were here the whole time?" he complained.

"Better make up for lost time, then," Britter said, surveying the room.

"Archer!"

He turned, watching Silta come from the tables, a glass of light liquid resting in her palm. She grinned at him. "You boys take the scenic route?" she asked, curling her fingers around Archer's arm and therefore drawing all three of their gazes.

"We couldn't find the place," Britter said slowly, looking her up and down.

"It's the same place it was last time," she said. Her words were fine, but her face was flushed, and she'd called Archer by his first name. And her hand was still on his arm.

"Are you...drunk?" Rusher asked, leaning forward and taking a whiff of her drink. He wrinkled his nose.

"It wouldn't take a lot for her," Britter answered. "Low tolerance and all." He eyed her carefully.

She shrugged, golden eyes sparkling in the low lighting. "Men buy me drinks like I'm an investment."

Rusher snorted, but Britter was still eyeing her. Finally, Liam lunged at her in one fast movement. Archer backed up, stepping away and giving Rusher an incredulous look.

Britter barrelled into Silta, who somehow managed to react swiftly, holding out her arm and keeping her drink steady as she blocked him with her knee. She narrowly avoided his punch and hooked her leg around his neck, pulling him in so she could elbow him in the soft flesh under his jawline with her free hand. He recoiled quickly, and she put all her strength into a kick to his chest, sending him tumbling backwards into a group of men who were laughing behind them. Britter fell onto his back after a long stumble and hit the ground hard with his fist.

"For the love of the Devil!" he shouted in frustration, getting to his feet.

Archer glanced back at Silta, bringing the glass to her lips. "You almost made me drop my drink, Liam," she said.

Rusher helped him up. "Almost, mate. Not really, but I admire the effort," he said.

Britter fixed his clothes and shuffled a hand through his hair. "I hate your damn acrobatics," he muttered.

"It's flexibility, love," she said. She glanced at Archer. "You wouldn't believe how useful it is." She turned and left, back to the main crew table.

"Screw this," Liam said, wiping his shirt. "I'm finding myself a woman who can't beat me."

"You'll have to look hard for one that didn't see that just now," Archer said, nodding to the room.

Britter glanced up at the crowd, a large percentage of which were staring and giggling. "At least I tried!" he shouted..

Rusher gave him a hard clap on the back and walked back toward the rest of the crew. "Let's go, Kingsley. You need a drink," he said.

Archer wandered over to the table with most of the crew. The bridge crew were playing some sort of poker game, drawing quite the crowd around them. Silta was next to Bardarian, tapping one of his cards.

"Hey!" Bates protested. "She can't help you!"

Bardarian didn't look up. "Two players looking at one set of cards is a disadvantage," he said, taking out the card Silta had pointed to. "It's twice the bluffing."

Courtley made a loud snort. Come to think of it, Archer hadn't ever heard the quartermaster do anything other than snort.

"That's bullshit," Bates said. "No helping allowed."

Silta raised her hands in surrender. "That's fine," she said. "Deal me in instead."

Bates and Courtley glanced at each other, pursing their lips.

"That's what I thought," she responded. She took a sip of her drink and pointed to another one of Bardarian's cards.

Archer rolled his eyes. Her disloyalty to both of them was not lost on either of them. There were nights she wasn't with Archer, but she hadn't been in the corner room in weeks. She was pitting them against each other like children. He twisted around, unable to watch. He found Lyra at another table.

"Archer!" she said excitedly. "We're betting this round. You want in?"

Archer smiled and sat down next to her. "I'll sit out. I have nothing to bet."

"Good. You can help me," she said, shuffling the cards. She dealt them out, then leaned in to whisper, "You have a plan yet?"

Archer shook his head. "No plan. Just thoughts."

"I'd like to have a few of those."

"Soon."

"Yes, Captain," she whispered.

Archer shook his head and shouldered her away. "Don't say that so loud."

"Please. You love the way it sounds."

"I do have a good name for it, don't I?" he said. "Captain Kingsley."

She snorted and showed him her cards. "Better than Tailsley, that's for sure. Which one?"

Archer pointed to a card. "You could always just go with the title, if you want. Less bulky."

Lyra put out her card and turned to Nelson, who was across from her. "Doesn't matter. I'd never want to be Captain."

Beside her, Skye Miller frowned and put out her own card. "You'd never want to be a captain?" she asked.

Lyra shrugged. "Not really," she said. "Too much responsibility for me. I'd be okay as first mate, maybe."

Nelson joined in. "I'm going to be captain," he declared.

"In thirty years, maybe," Skye said, flicking him in the forehead.

"How old are you?" Archer asked him.

"Thirteen. It's your turn," he said to Lyra.

"What was I doing when I was thirteen?" Lyra asked herself. "I think I was making dresses or something."

"I was working in the hospital in Fourton," Skye jumped in. "My mother worked there, too."

Archer looked at the doctor. She was easily the eldest of the three women, probably somewhere around thirty. For a brief moment, he wondered how she got on the crew—they each had their own tear-jerking story about the person they had to kill to get on the ship, but he thought better than to pry.

He pointed again to Lyra's card, who gave him a look. "What's your plan here, Kingsley?" she asked skeptically, but she still put out the card he'd chosen.

Archer didn't answer. "Miller," he said instead, "when did you come on the ship?"

The doctor glanced up at him. "Many, many years ago," she said with a laugh. "I met Bardarian when he was nineteen."

Lyra lifted her brows. "I can't picture Bardarian as a teenager."

Miller just grinned. "He didn't act like a teenager. I remember the day, too. I'm working at my job in Fourton, dealing with a patient, and he just burst through the door, Bates and Jackson on either side of him. The Avourienne was merely rumours, but I'd heard them. Bardarian comes up to the front desk, making a statement in that big hat, and asks politely for the most skilled surgeon in the building. The clerk points to me, and so he looks over and gives me this fantastic grin. Asked me if I liked a little adventure. I nearly melted into a puddle at his feet." She smiled. "That man was irresistible back then, but I ain't seen another woman get within three feet of him since you-know-who came aboard."

"Speaking of," Archer interjected, "who did Silta kill to get on the ship?"

"No one," Lyra said, "I told you that already."

"Right. I thought you were embellishing. I also thought you couldn't join the crew without killing someone you loved," he said.

Lyra snorted. "A bit hard to do when you don't love anybody," she said.

Archer pointed again to her cards. "She went back to Port Kiver to get you," he said. The reason that Silta had gone back for Lyra was still a rather large mystery to Archer. She claimed it to be loyalty, but he wasn't sure.

"Silta and I are closer than we seem," Lyra said simply. "I did a thing for her once."

"What did you do for her?" Miller asked, her eyes sparking with interest.

Lyra shrugged. "I just helped her with something."

"What?" Miller asked again.

"Just helped her with something," Lyra said. "And I didn't tell nobody."

"Helped her with...?" Miller prompted. Archer was equally curious.

"Gotta keep that to myself," Lyra said, "just in case I get stuck in another port."

Archer sighed loudly and picked out another card.

"Okay," Lyra said. "I see it now." She grinned at him. "When did you get so good at cards, Kingsley?"

Archer shrugged. "It's all I do these days."

"Speaking of," Lyra said, pulling in her winnings and splitting them with Archer, "you need a drink."

Archer shook his head. "No drinks," he said.

Lyra rolled her eyes and got up anyway. "Fine. I need one, then."

He rose but didn't follow her, glancing around at the room. He wasn't sure what to do. These things weren't exactly his scene, especially since he stopped drinking. He saw Bardarian and Silta again, still arguing with the rest of the high-status crew. Liam and Alexander had settled down with a big group near the couches, but Denver was there too, and Archer wasn't sure if he wanted to be near his former friend right now.

He drifted around aimlessly from table to table. He wanted to get moving. He wanted to get to the Kingsland. He couldn't just sit here and play cards drunkenly for hours. He wanted to go somewhere, do something.

He finally picked the lesser of the evils and made his way to the couches, sitting down beside Liam, who was sharing a story as loud as possible. A few men were listening, but most were women, their eyes wide and round.

"...to tell me I was unpractical," Liam was saying. "Shot him point-blank. How's that for practical?"

Archer rolled his eyes and slouched further down on the couch.

Alexander leaned over from the other couch. "Why don't you drink, Kingsley?" he asked.

Archer shrugged. He'd stopped drinking to make sure he didn't spill anything he shouldn't, but Silta knew his entire story now and was keeping the whole thing under wraps. He guessed he didn't have a lot to spill anymore, considering the whole joke turned out to be on him. Now it was just habit.

Archer glanced back at Bardarian. The drinking thing reminded him that he hadn't ever seen the Captain drink, either. In fact, he'd often seen him drinking water out of a rum bottle. He'd noticed it first on the beach after the fight with Kernite, and now he saw it again.

"Why doesn't the Captain drink?" Archer asked, nodding to the table Bardarian was at.

"He's an alcoholic," Liam said, leaning into the conversation. "Or—he was."

Alexander gave him a look. "Say that a little louder, why don't you?" he scolded.

"What? It's not like it's a secret."

"You still shouldn't be spouting it like that."

Archer waved his hands to remind them he was still there. "He's an alcoholic? Aren't most pirates?"

"No, no, no," Liam answered. "He was an alcoholic alcoholic. Like, stumbled out of the captain's quarters at dawn with liquor seeping out of his skin. Couldn't string together sentences. Rare to catch him coherent."

Archer blinked. "And he led people like that?"

"It was only a few months," Alexander explained. "He was everything to us, but he put the ship and the crew over himself one too many times."

"What does that mean?" Archer asked, trying not to spook either of them into stopping the story. "He put the ship over himself?"

Alexander cheered his bottle to the sky. "Ambition over love," he quoted. "Even if they're what keeps you breathing."

"You're talking about Silta," Archer prodded as gently as he could.

"Yeah. Bardarian didn't give her what she wanted—because it's not the best thing for the ship—and she left him. Shit hits the fan, Bardarian turns into an alcoholic. We couldn't forget what he did for us, so we stayed put through it."

"Silta left him?"

"Now who's spilling things they shouldn't be," Liam said, crossing his arms.

Alexander sighed. "None of this is a secret, it's just not big news anymore, so you don't hear about it much." He lost interest and moved over to talk to some girl beside them.

"She left the Avourienne?" Archer prompted Liam.

Britter shrugged, leaning back. "Yeah, she left. She wanted power, and he wouldn't give it to her. So she left in the middle of the night. Left him, left me, left us all." He glanced down at his bottle. "We were closer before—Vallin and me, Novari and me—I'm sure you can tell."

Archer put his elbows on his knees, listening carefully. "But she came back, didn't she?"

"No, not really. Not by choice, exactly. Things just sort of ended up that way."

"What does that mean?"

Liam nudged him hard, like he wanted to talk about something more superficial. "You should worry less about the past and worry more about the future." He looked up over his shoulder. "It looks like you're losing that battle, Kingsley," he said with a hearty, fake, laugh.

Archer followed his gaze to Silta and Bardarian, who were still at that table, as close as ever. She grinned at something he said, causing Archer to wonder if she'd ever looked at him like that. She whispered something to the Captain, using those long, elegant fingers to turn his face to her.

"She's just drunk," Archer said, turning back around. What was he supposed to do about it?

"No, mate," Liam said. "I know the girl. She's playing at jealousy. She loves pitting men against each other."

Archer shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I'm off this ship soon anyway."

"You don't know what will happen," Liam insisted. "Fight for her a little."

But he had fought, over and over. Like she said, she went back every time.

Liam leaned in to speak secretively, "You know what I recommend, Kingsley?"

"Hmm?" Archer knew he wouldn't like the answer.

He gave a quick nod to a woman across from them. "Play Silta's game," Liam said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Make her jealous."

Archer rolled his eyes. "That would never work."

"Oh, I think it could."

"No."

"Come on, Kingsley. You're no fun."

Archer followed Britter's gaze to the woman he'd picked. She was small, blending into her surroundings with a soft voice and caramel eyes. Silta's parallel—someone old Archer might've gravitated towards.

"You know what, Kingsley?" Liam said. "I'm making the decision for you."

"Britter—" Before he could finish, Liam stood and gestured to the girl across from them.

"Would you save my seat, love?" Liam asked her. "I'm getting us another round."

Archer deflated back into the cushion, letting out a long sigh.

Britter gave him a wink as the girl sat down, taking his spot.

The girl gave him a smile. "I'm Hanna," she said. "Your friend's not very subtle, if I'm being honest."

"Archer," he replied. "I know."

"He's from the Avourienne, isn't he?" she asked, watching Britter leave.

Archer deflated further, unsure of when being a crew member of the Avourienne became a personality trait. Most people didn't care what you looked like or who you were if you were wearing the Avourienne's clothes. They didn't care if you were a murderer if you had a nice smile.

"He is," Archer answered. "Most of us are."

She turned around to face him again. "You as well?"

Archer tapped the red symbol on his sleeve and said, "I'm new."

"Incredible," she said, bringing her knees up to the couch. "I've heard incredible things."

Archer glanced at Silta. "Incredible things?" he repeated, turning back, trying to keep his focus on her. He didn't like using people, especially if it wasn't even going to work.

Hanna nodded. "Death-black exterior with blood-red sails. Invisible at night."

"Seems to be."

"You guys on a particular quest right now?" she asked.

Britter reappeared and held out a drink for Archer behind the couch, who took it this time. He left, clearly not anxious to get his spot back.

"I don't think I can tell you that," Archer said, bringing the glass to his lips.

She leaned forward with a grin. "Some say you're headed to the Kingsland," she said. "Others say you've got the Prince with you."

He glanced at her. "If those are the rumours," he said.

She ignored his response. "Hold on," she said, squinting at him. A look of realization crossed over her face, and she grabbed his arm with excitement. "You're Archer Kingsley! I can't believe I didn't put that together!"

He raised an eyebrow. "I have fans?"

She smiled. "Kinda. There's stories from Port Kiver. Apparently Bardarian stole a whole bunch of supplies from them and then went back in to save one of his crew members. Your name was thrown in there, too."

Archer sighed. Typical of Bardarian's admirers to distort the story. "Not exactly," he corrected. "Bardarian didn't go back."

"That's not what the stories say."

Archer glanced at Silta, who hadn't even noticed. "I must be mistaken, then," he said.

She didn't seem to sense his annoyance. "So what about the Prince? Stories from Port Kiver say that he's with you guys, too."

Archer thought about that for a moment. "He might be."

She grinned. "What's your plan for him? Use him as leverage?"

Archer didn't like the questions. Silta was responsible for the rumours, for she'd been the one to tell them to the General, but he wasn't sure how much people were supposed to know.

"Confidential," Archer said, finishing his drink. He glanced back to Bardarian and Silta. For her part, Silta had glanced up, leaning forward to see who Archer was speaking to. She tilted her head slightly, shining eyes focused despite the drink in her hand being a different one from minutes ago. Maybe Britter had been right about this. Archer scrunched his nose just a little at her and turned back to his conversation.

"Honestly, if you want the details, you should probably go talk to the Captain," Archer said, nodding his head that way.

Hanna gave him a look. "You don't just walk up to Captain Bardarian."

Archer gave it back. "So you've settled for us?" he asked.

"Well, I'd hardly call you a settle," she said, grinning.

Britter reached for Archer's empty glass, trading it in with a new one and giving him a few pats on his head as he passed. After ducking to avoid his hand, Archer called after him, "Don't touch me, Britter."

Hanna clinked her own glass against Archer's as he turned back around and took a drink. Archer just put the glass down. He'd had enough.

"So, Archer," Hanna asked, curling her legs further, getting closer, "you've got a specialty?"

"Strategist," he answered.

She gave him a surprised look. "No way—that's impressive as hell on a smart ship like the Avourienne."

Someone touched Archer's neck from behind, causing him to startle. He glanced behind him.

"Hi, Minnow," Silta said, leaning over the back of the couch. "Making friends?"

"I was," Archer said, shrugging her fingers off. He glanced at Hanna and said to her, "Sorry, this is—"

"I don't usually need to be introduced, Kingsley," Silta interrupted.

Archer rolled his eyes. "It's just consideration in case she doesn't know—"

"I know," Hanna said quickly. She'd straightened her shoulders, letting out an awkward laugh. "Everyone knows."

Silta leaned further, forearm resting on Archer's shoulder and speaking to Hanna, "He's spoken for," she said. "Find someone else."

Archer shook his head in disbelief. "Aren't you spoken for?" he asked Silta, glancing over her shoulder to the bridge crew. "Because the big man over there currently shooting daggers at me certainly thinks you are."

"He's harmless," Silta said.

"Harmless," Archer repeated. He looked at Hanna. "Does he look harmless?"

Hanna looked over at Bardarian. "No, not really."

Silta tugged at Archer's sleeve like a kid. She lowered her voice and said, "Come with me."

"Come with you where?" Archer asked, turning to face her. "You're over there all night, ignoring me in favour of him—"

"Come with me," she demanded, taking his arm.

Archer sighed. He could do the right thing and tell her to go away so he could keep speaking to a normal, likely faithful woman, but that wasn't his way. His way was Silta way.

He glanced at Hanna as he got up. "Sorry, she's my boss, so I really have to do what she says but"—he kicked at Rusher's foot—"you should meet Alexander; he's a self-obsessed pathological liar, which is super fun."

Rusher looked over, eyes skipping over Hanna. "Hold on—" he said, gaze turning serious. "Novari, this isn't a thing, is it?"

"Of course not," Silta replied, pulling Archer away. "Just a routine scout patrol." She nodded to Britter. "As you were, inferiors."

"We're the same rank," Rusher called after her.

She never answered him, just led Archer to the door.

"Where are we going?" he asked, glancing at Bardarian, who'd abandoned intimidating Archer in favour of rolling his eyes. It was a game to both of them, like they knew this was just some momentary distraction in their perfect relationship.

Silta opened the door to the cold. "Like I said." She nodded down the road. "Routine scout patrol."