Captain Hammermore came out of the Challenge Dungeon some twenty minutes later, breathing heavily, but looking little worse for the wear and smirking in satisfaction. Unfortunately, she informed them, she had been rewarded an Enhancer for her efforts, not a Pearl of Inspiration.

  She didn’t mention what she’d done with it, and Rylan wasn’t about to ask.

  For a moment, Yuel seemed genuinely disappointed, but he rapidly bounced back, returning to his usual flippant self.

  Was she really considering giving him a Pearl of Inspiration?

  Part of Rylan—the part that baulked at the thought of giving away something so precious—was sceptical. At the same time, he couldn’t help but imagine himself returning to Thistlebloom and casually handing Zahra a Pearl.

  For a Quinthar as powerful as Miss Hammermore, assistance in gaining an additional Skill might not be worth all that much. Maybe she really was considering giving it to one of her crew...

  The captain took a minute to catch her breath, her eyes hungrily taking in the flickering violet light of the somewhat-unstable-looking Champion’s Dungeon, but ultimately she just clicked her tongue and announced that they were heading back.

  Their expedition had been a major success, and the mood when they returned to camp was quite exuberant. Yuel had even taken down an octopus on their way back through the fog, and Rylan quickly got started on a stir-fry with calamari.

  Ezra joined them for dinner, actually sitting up and seeming more lucid than Rylan remembered ever seeing him before. He did his best not to stare at the linen-wrapped stump of his upper arm as Holly fed her husband.

  “This is not bad, son,” the chef commented when Rylan came by to bring them seconds. “The spring onion has just enough bite left, and the parsley gives it a nice little pep. Really not bad!”

  “Thanks!” Rylan replied self-consciously, trying not to smile too hard at the praise. “I actually found the parsley two days ago, was just waiting for the right dish to add it to.”

  They chatted a bit more, until Holly’s pointed looks told Rylan it was time to move on and let the man eat in peace.

  Despite Ezra’s attendance, most of the attention still went to the shiny new runegear that Soren and the captain had come back with.

  Isai finished studying her deepmetal hammerhead remarkably quickly, declaring it possessed two well-known, useful runeworks, but neglecting to mention which ones. Rylan supposed that knowledge was meant for the captain’s ears only. Soren’s shoes, however, had him put his bowl aside and actually crouch down in front of the young nobleman to take a closer look through the magnifying glass suspended from his headband.

  “Any clue, professor?” Soren asked eagerly.

  Isai remained silent for a moment, then hummed. “Sorry kid. Aurorium runes aren’t my area of expertise, I’m afraid. It’s capable of more than just showing off with flashy lights, that much is sure, but what it does exactly?” The professor shrugged.

  “Can’t we run some tests like with Tammi’s shield?” Rylan asked, his own portion of stir-fry momentarily forgotten.

  The professor shook his head. “Her runegear works differently. Its runework is essentially always running, unless she manages to properly control the mana and turn it off. I may not be familiar with these runes, but I can at least tell that they have a short-term effect that has to be activated—much like your blade. Until Soren becomes familiar enough with his new runegear to succeed in activating it, we won’t know what it does.”

  Rylan glanced over at Tamina, who was listening in as well with a slight frown. While it was getting easier for her to strengthen the effect of her shield’s runework by pouring in more mana, she was indeed still having trouble with turning off the effect for long enough to dole out a proper bash.

  Soren groaned at the answer, causing the professor to laugh. “Chin up, my boy. You’ll figure it out soon enough. And if you’re so impatient, you could always ask your friend here for assistance; he appears to be figuring out his runegear in record time.”

  [Hah!] Arphin called out in his head. [That’s because we’re the best team, right Boss? Can’t be a team with a lame pair of shoes like that!]

  Rylan shifted awkwardly in his seat. He’d already admitted to his friends that when it came to activating the runework, so far, Arphin was doing all the work. In other words, he’d be useless. Oh, you want my advice, Soren? Maybe you should try dumping your shoes in a trashcan! I bet they’ll be so grossed out they’ll activate their runeworks themselves!

  Soren ran his hands through his hair, which was getting pretty long, and let out a dramatic sigh. “I suppose it’s rather unbecoming of me to want so much so quickly, isn’t it? Not getting what I want for once will be good for me, I’m sure; Grandmother did always say that strive helps to build character. Anyway... Hey Yuel, about that foot rub?”

  “Coming right up, milord!” Yuel replied obsequiously, seeming to have decided to shove his pride aside as he shovelled a rather large bite into his mouth, and began chewing rapidly.

  Rylan started to laugh as Tamina let out a groan and buried her face in her hands.

  That’s when Nazyr came out of the ship with a massive grin on his face, and a small barrel in his arms.

  “Naz, you naughty, brilliant man!” Yuel exclaimed, Soren’s shiny boots momentarily forgotten. “Have you been holding out on us?”

  “Well,” Nazyr started as he put the cask down with almost exaggerated care. “I just so happened to stumble on this little survivor a while back. I figure, what with Ezra surviving the night, and the captain and our new friends all getting some splendid Runegear... if today’s not a day to celebrate, then what is?”

  Rylan blinked at the sudden cheers all around him. Sounds like they agree...

  The small barrel turned out to be a cask of rice wine; the only one that had survived the crash, according to Nazyr. With the captain’s permission, it was tapped, and full cups were soon handed out.

  Nazyr shoved one into Rylan’s hands as well with a big grin. Perhaps due to only having one working eye, Nazyr was a bit sloppy with it, and some ended up spilling over the back of Rylan’s hand. He licked it off, finding the spirit pleasantly fresh and sweet, with only a hint of sourness. He took a proper sip. It fizzed a little in his mouth, prickling his tongue, but not in a bad way.

  His face must’ve looked funny, because Nazyr let out a snort. “Wha’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’ve never drunk spirits before, milord?”

  “No, I have!” Rylan quickly replied. Technically, he had only had the one sip of cider that Helen had snuck him during a winter solstice dinner when he was nine, but Nazyr didn’t need to know that. Nor that she’d practically fallen off her chair laughing at the face Rylan had pulled.

  Shaking his head, he pushed down the waves of nostalgia. He’d left that life behind, and with good reason.

  “Sure,” Nazyr said with a slight smirk. “Well, take it easy if ye’re not used to drinking.”

  Yuel came darting in to pull on Nazyr’s upper arm with a pout. “Stop telling our new friends to drink less and go fetch your tabor and three-holed fipple; I want to dance!”

  Nazyr grumbled something about the impatience of toddlers, but obediently headed for the ship.

  Soon enough, the celebration was in full swing. Nazyr was drumming away on his tabor while simultaneously blowing a jaunty melody on his fipple, accompanied by Halloth cranking on a hurdy-gurdy that looked almost fragile in the gentle giant’s massive, inked hands.

  At first, Rylan just watched and sipped as Yuel and Soren cleared a space to start dancing. Then the captain got dragged in by Yuel, and started leading her blond subordinate around the floor in some kind of up-tempo courtly dance. Soren naturally joined as well, showing off some flashy moves on his fancy new boots before pulling in Tamina and Isai, who’d looked to be discussing something regarding her prosthesis.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  The white-haired professor looked less odd jumping around, grinning like a maniac, than Rylan felt he should have.

  Then Tamina spotted Rylan standing to the side. “Come on, Ry, dance with us!” she called over.

  Rylan hesitated, his grip on his cup tightening.

  Tamina narrowed her eyes and made a beeline for him, a grin forming on her face. “What’s this now?” she asked teasingly, stopping in front of him her face mere inches from his, the smell of wine sweet on her breath. “Dost thou fear the perilous dancefloor? You know a true Thar shows courage in every arena, right?”

  “I-I just don’t really know how to dance,” Rylan stuttered, feeling heat rise to his face. “I tried to learn how once, when I was practising for Skills, but I didn’t really feel I had any talent for it...”

  Her grin shrank into a small, fond smile. “Sounds like you’re worrying too much. Dancing is easy, when you know the secret. All you have to do is listen to the music... and let go. Come on: I’ll teach you.”

  Rylan barely had time to finish his cup and put it down before she grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the rest. True to her word, Tamina showed him the steps of some dance that Rylan vaguely recognised at half tempo a few times, then told him not to overthink it, and pulled him into the fray.

  Rylan tried to do the steps, then just tried to keep his feet under him as they spun around and laughed.

  By the time the bottom of the barrel came into view, Rylan’s feet were sore from learning—though definitely not mastering—parts of at least three dances, and he felt woozy but relaxed.

  The dancing had wound down when the musicians had tired, followed shortly by Ezra and Holly retiring to their tent. Isai, Halloth, and the captain were seated by the firemetal stove, nursing their drinks and keeping warm, while the rest of them lay and sat around. Rylan had claimed a wicker chair, and Tamina was sitting in front of him, her back warm against his shins.

  Next to them, Soren was leaning back against a cot, on top of which lay Yuel with his head on Nazyr’s lap, idly scratching Soren’s scalp while studying his blue locks. “Fog, you were right, Nazyr: the kid’s got no roots,” Yuel mumbled. “So this is really your natural hair colour, Soren?”

  “It really is,” Soren replied lazily, not even opening his eyes.

  “And your whole family has it?” Yuel continued interestedly.

  Soren just grunted, so Rylan answered in his stead. “Except for his mom, yeah,” he confirmed. “A whole family of blueheads.”

  Soren snorted at the old joke. “Yup. My great-grandfather’s traits remain strong; almost all of his progeny look like this.”

  Rylan blinked, stopping in the middle of bringing his final cup up for another sip. “Hold on...”

  “Hmm?”

  “What do you mean almost?”

  Soren’s eyes blinked open, and he brought a hand to his mouth. “Whoops... forget I said anything.”

  “Fat chance, Soren,” Tamina said, sitting up a little straighter, and turning towards him. “Spill the tea.”

  Soren buried his head in his hands with a groan and a snicker. “Nooo, I shouldn’t—shouldn’t have said anything, she’d kill me!”

  She?

  “Come on, Soren, you have to tell us now!” Yuel piled on, lifting his head from Nazyr’s lap, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

  Soren let out a long-suffering sigh, but there was a persistent smirk pulling on his lips. “All right, all right, I’ll tell you. If she ever asks, you didn’t hear this from me, but... my sister dyes her hair.”

  Yuel gasped in shock at the scandal.

  Rylan’s mouth fell open. “Helen dyes her hair?!”

  Tamina cringed away a little at his volume, shooting a glare back at him.

  Soren laughed. “Spirits, Rylan, are you trying to summon her to kick my ass? There are people trying to sleep, you know?”

  “Sorry,” Rylan said sheepishly, also to Tamina, who rolled her eyes but leaned back against his legs. “But, are you being serious right now?”

  Soren nodded, his eyes twinkling. “She dyes it twice a season, I swear upon Auris’s holy light! I only know because I caught her doing it once. Her natural colour’s more like Yuel’s, actually.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rylan mumbled, shaking his head as he sagged back into his chair. “Helen is a blonde... My whole life is a lie!”

  That set Soren off, and his laughter proved contagious.

  Yuel—once he was done drunkenly giggling—sat up and pressed a hand onto Nazyr’s chest, leaning in to whisper into his ear. Nazyr turned an interesting shade of pink, then nodded swiftly and cleared his throat. “Right. I’m, eh, turning in, I think.”

  Yuel got up as well, his hand trailing down Nazyr’s arm to grasp his hand, grinning like a cat in a bucket of butter.

  “Just try and keep it down, boys,” Tamina called after them. “People are trying to sleep!”

  Soren burst into laughter as Nazyr ducked his head, while Yuel just blew back a kiss.

  Rylan frowned. “Wait, are they...?”

  Tamina turned around to raise a brow at him, seeming to ask if he was being serious.

  Soren sighed, shaking his head. “Oh Ryles... so innocent. Never change, my friend.”

  Rylan’s sputtered protest only fed their amusement. He had suspected there was something blossoming between the two former pirates, he just hadn’t been sure.

  [Would you like me to keep an eye on what they’re up to, Boss?] Arphin suggested enthusiastically.

  ‘Oh, no; thank you, Arphin, that’s—’

  [Right now, they both seem to be attempting to consume the other’s face! There isn’t a clear winner yet, but I feel like Yuel—]

  ‘Arphin! Please don’t study them or tell me what they’re doing; it’s none of our business,’ Rylan sent back firmly, feeling the blood rush to his face. ‘Remember that talk we had about privacy?’

  [Oh yeah! Sure sure sure, Boss, I got it. Huh, why is Nazyr... Oh! Oh, wow...]

  While Arphin was clearly still watching, he thankfully at least stopped talking about it at that point. Rylan decided to call it a win.

  Finally, a couple of minutes later, Soren got up with a groan as well. “All right, I’m calling it a night. Don’t forget to drink plenty of water, children!”

  “Sure thing, grandpa,” Rylan shot back.

  Tamina snickered, but didn’t move from her spot even after Soren left.

  Rylan swallowed, his hand twitching a few times before he reached out to stroke her dark locks. She just leaned into his hand, causing his heartbeat to thrum in his throat.

  Then Isai came over. “Girl, about that elbow actuator for Ezra’s arm, I was thinking...”

  Tamina sat up straighter, leaning away from his shins as she engaged the spry old man in conversation. Rylan withdrew his hand, pushing down his disappointment.

  The terms they were using went straight over his head, and when it seemed like their talk wouldn’t end anytime soon, he shivered from the cold and got up to take a seat next to Captain Hammermore, who was still staring at the glowing red stove.

  “Do you ever miss it? Being a pirate?” he asked after a moment, wine-fuelled courage loosening his lips.

  Captain Hammermore took a deep drink. “Sometimes,” she finally replied. “But I wouldn’t trade where I am now for where I was then. Well, apart from being stuck down here, I suppose.”

  “How did you become a pirate to begin with?” Rylan asked curiously.

  Captain Hammermore smiled, her gaze distant. “I was still a little whelp—not much older than yourself right now—and I had a job on a merchant’s vessel, belonging to one Captain Undertow. He was a right clodmonger, and far too fond of his whip. One day, he had the bright idea of shipping a load of spun bamboo cloth—a specialty from Summit—all the way to the Northern Isles...”

  Rylan found himself quickly pulled in by her tale, listening with wide eyes as she told of a long, difficult journey with an increasingly frustrated crew, and how mounting irritations led to minor infractions receiving escalating punishments described in uncomfortable detail.

  “Eventually, we reached a breaking point,” Captain Hammermore said. “It can be hard to imagine if you’ve never been cooped up on a ship with a bunch of clodmongers for a long time, but there comes a point where you know, deep down, that someone’s going to wind up dead. And if you don’t want it to be you, you’ve got to make the first move. So we did.”

  “You staged a mutiny,” Rylan stated.

  “Aye. And when the dust settled, I was standing over good ol’ Captain Undertow’s crushed skull with a bloody hammer. And Ethereon seemed to like that.”

  “That fight made you a Quinthar?” Rylan asked in surprise.

  “Aye, it did. I hadn’t been the one to lead the mutiny, but the man who had, fell to the captain’s sword. When what was left of the crew saw my glowing hammer, they voted unanimously. And, well, mutiny carries the death penalty, so there was no going back.”

  “Right...” Rylan muttered.

  “Back then, I was just thinking of survival, making it through one day, then the next. I’d never once imagined I’d one day be a Sapphire, let alone a fogging Baroness. But I’m not complaining.” Captain Hammermore showed off her shark-like grin, stroking the head of her shiny new hammer.

  “So, are you going to enter the Champion’s Dungeon once you’ve mastered your runegear?” Rylan asked excitedly. “Or would you rather not eat dirt?”

  “Excuse me?” the captain asked, incredulously raising a brow at him.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like—like that,” Rylan stammered, his buzz suddenly dimming quite a bit. “Soren said Quinthar who gain an Affinity need to absorb the right Divine Metal, and that’s how armadons get the firemetal for their teeth: eating dirt. He, ehm, wasn’t sure how Quinthar do it, so we wondered...”

  The captain stared at him for a moment longer, then snorted and returned her gaze to the glowing stove. “Allow me to set your mind at ease; the Hermeans came up with a more... elegant solution. When you successfully conquer a Champion’s Dungeon, you’re awarded an Affinity of your choice, and a kind of breathing apparatus. It’s supposed to have a canister of gasified Divine Metal that you can breathe intermittently, to slowly absorb. No dirt eating required.”

  “That does sound better,” Rylan admitted sheepishly.

  “Anyway,” the captain continued with a wry smile. “I won’t say I’m not tempted. Rumour has it there’s only three known Champion’s Dungeons in the kingdom, and they’re all well-hidden and protected. If I’d stumbled across an unguarded Champion’s Dungeon ten years ago—fog, five years ago—I would have jumped in without a second thought, and screw the consequences, you know? No matter how unstable it looked...”

  She fell silent.

  “What changed?”

  She shrugged, sitting up a little straighter. “My priorities, I suppose. Don’t go thinking I’m afraid to enter, now, ya hear? It’s just my crew... they rely on me. I can’t risk leaving them stranded here without me.”

  Rylan blinked, and turned back to gaze at the stove. “Huh. You know, you’re not quite what I imagined a pirate would be like.”

  She chuckled quietly. “Yeah well, maybe that’s why I’m not a pirate, anymore.”

  “Is it?”

  She cocked her head, seeming to consider that for a moment. “It’s part of it. Mainly, I guess I just got tired of running, in more ways than one.” She turned to him, a serious look on her face. “You know, kid, you can run from a lot of things. You can run from angry mobs that want your head on a pike. You can run from old friends and the things you’ve done. But try to run from yourself, and you won’t get far. Trust me on that.”

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