"They're the same ones who attacked you?"

Soren focused the spyglass. There were three ships head, sailing together. "Aye. I only recognize one of them, but aye, it's the same one." He turned to look at a dot further in the distance. It was a big ship, he could tell even though it was hard to make out details. "Navirian navy, you think?"

"Yes," the Navirian woman said. "Pirate hunters."

"Well." Soren lowered the spyglass. "Three pirate ships, three pirate hunters. That's appropriate. Kija, flag Elorie. Ivern," He turned around to look at his friends. They were all standing there. Jerios at the helm, Roan and Ivern waiting for orders, Ara anxiously hovering nearby. "Gather the men."

***

"The man I want will be on the Alvarian ship. The Exhun."

Captain Sylvaine dismissively waved at him. She was rushing around the ship, and Tanden was following her.

"It doesn't matter who you want," Sylvaine said. She paused to address one of her sailors in brisk Navirian, then continued in Teltish. "We need to take the largest ship first. The other two can wait." She stormed back onto the quarterdeck, and switched back to Navirian. "Report!"

"Two more ships on the horizon," the woman at the helm said. "We're not sure if they're hostile. Is he going to be a problem?"

Tanden interrupted in Navirian. "No, I won't. Let me see the new ships."

Sylvaine frowned at him and didn't bother speaking in Teltish. "When my people want to talk about you privately, what language should we use?"

"You'll have to create a new one." Tanden took the spyglass without waiting for permission and held it up to his eye. Farther South, past the trio of pirate ships, he could see two more. His fingers tightened and he nearly dropped the spyglass in frustration. "I recognize them. They're pirates."

"We can't take on five ships, Captain," the woman at the helm said.

Tanden roughly slid the spyglass back into its slot near the helm. "We don't have to. We just need to kill Toliver and Rico."

"She was talking to me," Sylvaine said sharply. "You need to get away from me. This is my ship, and I'll make the final decision. Where is your friend?" Switching back to Teltish, she yelled, "Jale! Get him away from me!"

"Just get me to—"

Jale appeared beside him and caught his arm. "Stop," she growled in Tallenese. "You're not helping."

***

It felt both incredibly right and incredibly wrong to step up onto the bulwark and face his crew.

It was what Tanden had always done. It felt right to honour him in this way, just as much as it felt wrong for anyone but Tanden to do it. But Soren liked how it meant his whole crew, small as they were, could see him. And he knew his voice would carry easily to Elorie's ship, drifting closely alongside.

"We found them," Soren said, and had to pause, because the crew was already shouting. He waved his free arm to silence them, which worked after a moment. "It has been a long trip, but our revenge is almost here. We will avenge the Wanderlust and every ship these pirates have destroyed. We will avenge Tanden, Jale, Starios, Folti, Povic, and every sailor these pirates have killed. We will make the ocean a safer place." He hesitated to allow time for more cheers. Shouts of agreement echoed from Elorie's ship a moment later, as she translated his words for her crew.

Soren took a deep breath. He tightened his left hand around the rope that was steadying him. "We are a crew of many beliefs. Teltan and Crelan, Deoran and Navirian, Tallenese and Alvarian. My people—" His eyes found Roan in the crowd. "We're people of the ocean, and we have a saying. We've got the blood of the Sailor King. It means we belong here, on the water. We're not all Crelan, but the Wanderlust made us a family. It doesn't matter what country we come from and what we believe, we're all people of the ocean. And something else that units all sailors is superstition. The pirates think we're ghosts, determined to get revenge. Let's prove them right."

The crew burst into eager cheers, brandishing whatever weapons they had. Soren basked in it for a moment before turning, so he could meet Elorie's gaze across the stretch of water between their ships.

"I get Toliver! You take the smallest ship!"

She gave a lazy salute in reply. "Aye, Commodore!" It took a moment of shuffling and adjusting, but soon her ship was veering to the side, heading for the smallest of the three pirates.

"Jerios, keep us steady!" Soren shouted up at him before hopping down from the bulwark. As he walked through his crew, receiving hearty slaps on the shoulders, he just hoped the Navirian navy ship would go after the largest of the three pirates. And that they would recognize the makeshift West Draulin flags both he and Elorie were flying.

Once everyone was back to work, Soren sought out Roan. "Get the Waterborne ready to go." Roan didn't wait for an explanation, just quickly hurried off. Soren turned around to find Ara, only to be startled when the young man was standing right behind him.

"You're sending me away?" Ara guessed.

Soren tugged Ara into his arms. "I need you safe. You can manage the Waterborne on your own, and you can take the injured Navirians and the boy. Just... in case."

Ara nodded against his chest.

Soren nudged Ara back a step. He cupped Ara's chin, gently lifting his face for a kiss. "I'm not trying to get myself killed. But it'll be easier if I know you're safe."

Ara nodded again. He really was the most beautiful man Soren had ever known, even with tears brimming in his eyes. "Can I take Journey?"

"Find her quickly." Soren let him go and watched as he rushed to the captain's quarters to look for the cat. His fingers drifted into his pocket so he could stroke the wooden bear. 

Superstition, indeed.

***

Jale managed to get him nearly as far as it was possible to get—the ship's bow. With Kuiva standing beside her, she blocked Tanden's path back to Captain Sylvaine. She was obviously banking on their friendship to stop him from barreling right through her, because she wouldn't be able to physically stop him if he tried to get past.

It worked at first. Tanden, agitated, paced back and forth in the small space in which Jale had cornered him.

"We'll get another chance," Jale said. Her soothing tone didn't quite hide her own disappointment. "If Captain Sylvaine decides not to attack them, we'll just have to find another crew."

"Another crew? This is a navy ship with a crew trained for combat. This is our best chance," Tanden said. He reached one end of the small space, thumped his fist on the bulwark, and turned to pace back the other way. "The only real alternative is going to West Draulin and begging Tandrael to give me one of his warships. But then, we'll have to find Toliver all over again. But right now, we have him. Right there!"

"Would Tandrael give you a warship?"

Tanden groaned. "I don't know. But I'm not waiting that long. I—" He paused, because despite the distance between them and the quarterdeck, he had heard Sylvaine's shouted order perfectly. "We're turning around," he growled. "She isn't going to fight." The bubbling, burning anger in his chest swelled upwards. He hadn't felt so recklessly angry since that evening in West Draulin.

Jale uncrossed her arms. She always had been good at reading him. "Tanden—"

Tanden's hand found his cutlass and he drew it without really thinking. "Don't help me. We don't all need to mutiny." He pushed past her. She grabbed his arm but he hardly noticed, just shaking her off and continuing, his eyes fixed on Captain Sylvaine.

He wasn't stopped. Maybe nobody noticed him as they rushed to follow their captain's orders and turn the ship. Maybe none of them thought he would do such a thing. Maybe they simply didn't think he was dangerous. But Sylvaine noticed, the moment before he grabbed a handful of her tunic and pinned her against the bulwark. He held his cutlass tightly in his right hand, not to threaten her, but to ward off her crew. Some had already gathered behind him, their own weapons drawn.

"We're not running away." Tanden's voice was low, his fury made every Navirian word a rough snarl. "I'm going to kill Toliver."

To Sylvaine's credit, she didn't sound afraid. "I will not have my crew massacred just to satisfy one man's revenge."

"It's your job to keep Navirian waters safe."

"Not against five enemy ships." Sylvaine shoved his hand away and he let her, but he didn't step aside, effectively still keeping her trapped against the bulwark. "Maybe you're the type of captain who values their own desires more than their crew's lives, but I'm not."

Her words hit him harder than she could possibly have guessed. Tanden's fingers tightened on his cutlass. "Then maybe you aren't the cap—"

He lost his balance, and only realized a moment later that it was because Jale had barrelled into his side. Furiously, he pushed her aside and turned, but the distraction had been long enough. Sylvaine held her own sword in her hand. Around them, her crewmembers had drawn closer.

Tanden took a deep, steadying breath, eyes darting from one sailor to the next. They had no idea how well he was trained. He just had to get through a few of them quickly, before they had a chance to catch on to his skill. His cutlass flashed in the bright sunlight as he rotated his wrist to prepare.

"Tanden!" Jale stepped in front of him, blood dripping from her nose. He knew—he understood immediately—that is was his fault she was hurt, but his rage tore through his guilt.

"Move."

Jale moved. Closer. She held her hands up as if he was a wild animal, one of her kyloe that she had to calm. Or as if she was ready to grab his arm if he lashed out at her again. She stepped closer, closer.

Tanden's breath hitched. "Jale, please move."

Then she was close enough to touch, and without a word, she stepped close enough to wrap her arms around his waist. And in his moment of stunned stillness, Kuiavadox pulled the cutlass from his hand.

Before anyone had a chance to say or do anything, distant movement caught Tanden's eye. He looked past Sylvaine, eyes narrowed in an attempt to focus. Sylvaine, noticing that his attention had shifted, glanced over her shoulder.

"They're fighting the pirates," Tanden said in Navirian. "Kuiva," he held out his hand. Kuiavadox stepped back, holding the cutlass out of reach warily. "No, the—" Switching to broken Xalish. "The... the far eyes."

It took Kuiva a heartbeat. Then he leaned over to grab the spyglass and put it in Tanden's hand. Jale was still hugging his waist, but Tanden ignored her to lift the spyglass to his eye and focus on the distant battle.

They were definitely pirate ships. He recognized them as the two that had accompanied Rico's main ship during the attack. Even with the spyglass he was too far away to see details of the people onboard, but as the ship swayed beneath him and his view of the ships shifted, he noticed a flash of blue.

There, fluttering above one of the pirate ships was a blue and white flag. The black design in the middle was hard to make out, but Tanden knew what it was. He focused quickly on the second mysterious ship and saw the same thing.

Slowly, he lowered the spyglass. His anger was still there, but an unexpected flash of hope had dimmed the flames a bit. "They're flying West Draulin flags. Those are my people."

***

The Alvarian ship tried to flag them, but Soren told Kija to not return the signal.

He stood at the Walloxa's bow, dressed once again in the dark tunic, pants and wide belt that Ara thought made him look intimidating. He wore two cutlasses on his belt, the sword he had been training with and an extra, just in case. He had made the decision to be unapologetically Crelan, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows to show off his swirling tattoos. His hair was longer than he liked it, but Ara had neatened it with a few braids that echoed the Morcean style Tanden had liked so much, and he still hadn't shaved his beard. He told himself it was because the beard would delay Toliver recognizing him, maybe giving them a slight upper hand.

He knew they were being watched. They were still too far away to clearly hear what was being shouted on the pirate ships, but water carried sound well enough that shouting could be heard. Standing at the front of his ghost ship, Soren watched the smallest of the three pirate ships veer to her port side, likely hoping to outrun Elorie's ship and escape. He watched, as the pirates realized that the Navirian navy ship was heading towards them with her sails billowing. As his Walloxa shortened the distance between the ships.

The remaining two pirate ships were staying close, but that didn't bother Soren. They would focus on the Alvarian ship and trust the Navirian to go after the larger pirate ship.

Shouting, from his ship and the pirates, intensified as they neared. Those of his crew who could be spared from manning the lines were brandishing their weapons and yelling. The pirates were yelling back. The distance between the ships kept shrinking.

Roan stepped up beside Soren, holding two torches. "Not as good as proper Crelan fire arrows, but this'll make our point, reckon so?"

Soren grinned as he accepted one. Taking a look back over his deck, he saw that Roan had handed out more torches, including to the two strongest of their Navirian passengers. He held his own up, and with shouts the others held theirs up as well.

He didn't have to say anything. As the Walloxa caught up and pulled up beside the Alvarian pirate ship, he threw his torch and the others followed his lead. Not all of them landed well, but his caught a pile of rope that smoked darkly for a moment before flickering with flames.

Then the waves and the wind brought the ships together. Soren threw out his hand to catch a nearby rope as the Walloxa's bow crunched into the pirate's. The pirates responded more quickly, tossing lines across to hold the ships together.

Beside him, Roan drew his cutlass. "We've got the blood of the Sailor King. With Roe's blessin', aye, Cap'n?"

Soren pulled out his own. His gaze darted down the length of his ship, quickly landed on every member of his crew. Kurias and the Navirian women were brandishing two swords each. Jerios, up at the helm, not up to fighting with his limp. Tyglen, a knife in one hand and the curved pulp hook he had used when they first captured the Walloxa in the other. Ivern, near the door to the Captain's Quarters.

"Aye, mate," Soren replied to Roan. He held up his cutlass, yelled without really saying anything, stepped onto the bulwark, and leapt across the gap to land on the pirate ship's deck.