“Pardon?” Vel hissed, glowering at the man. She clenched her jaw, narrowing her eyes as Aden skidded to a stop beside her.

  “Sir, sir, my sister is too young to speak for herself, and our parents aren’t anywhere nearby.”

  The scummy salesman raised a weathered eyebrow, looking between Aden and Vel, who couldn’t help but curl her hands into fists. The audacity! This was like the apple merchant all over again, although he hadn’t scammed her.

  “Don’t matter, kids gotta pay around these parts. If she can’t pay, then I’ll just have the silk I dyed, should compensate me plenty,” the scammer said.

  “No can do, sir. She has to keep the silk.”

  “Shall I call for the guards then?” A smirk grew upon the scammer’s face, Vel scoffing in response.

  “You’ll not be calling anyone, you fowl man,” she huffed. “They’ll have not known if you did it, or if I did.”

  “Of course they will. Been around for a while, they know I dye━”

  Velmira reached out, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder and giving him pause. “Your vest is lacking,” she said, and for a moment, really thought the vest would look better black, if only to ruin the scammer’s day!

  As the thought came, pitch black dye seeped over the shoulder of the scammer’s vest, washing over its bright colors like tar.

  [Dye Magic level 2]

  [Dye Magic level 3]

  [Dye Magic level 4]

  [Dye Magic level 5]

  The color flowed with ease, spilling as if a bucket had been poured over the vest, though it didn’t go beyond its hem.

  [Dye Magic level 6]

  It came so fast that Vel recoiled. As soon as she did, the power ceased, and her eyes shifted from the voidless color to the scammer’s ghastly eyes, the color empty. No, she couldn’t see in color now. As she blinked a few times, Aden grabbed her hand, taking the opportunity of the scammer’s stupor to pull Vel away.

  Stumbling after him, she looked about, furrowing her brow. This wasn’t a problem while she’d dyed the vest, but after? Is this a constitution cost? Or acuity? she wondered, eyes glazing past the crowd and across sails that should have colored a blue sky.

  The crowd thinned as they moved from cobblestone to wooden docks, color seeping back into her vision just as she found Sigurd pushing through the crowd beside them.

  “Where were you?” he asked.

  “Being accosted by a scammer,” Vel huffed, Aden finally letting go of her hand.

  The change in color was gradual, so much so that Vel barely realized it until she could see a hint of green in Sigurd’s hazel eyes.

  “Damn,” Sigurd said, “I’m starting to wonder if danger attracts you, or if you’re attracted to danger.”

  “Probably both,” Vel said, sighing.

  “Well, come on,” Sigurd nodded his head, leading the two of them across the wide docks, which . . .

  Holy . . . Does anyone clean this place? Vel wondered, scanning the crates, barrels, and miscellaneous tools that were haphazardly littered about. Sitting in the center of it, nearly entirely encased, was Amalia, who stared at the ship they intended to steal further down the pier.

  Awkwardly stepping over a barrel, Vel moved to sit on a crate beside Amalia, who turned to look at the three of them. She looked up at Sigurd, “Any ideas?” she asked.

  Sigurd, leaning between the two of them, squinted, and Vel looked over the pier. No doubt about it, that was a church vessel, its blue flag waving with a white set of scales upon it. The scales were even painted across the ship’s singular sail. As if that wasn’t enough, two knights stood erect before the gangplank, spears in their hands and boredom in their eyes.

  [Keen Eye level 7]

  “Not exactly a way to attack them from behind. If Vel takes care of one, I can take the other, but again . . .” Sigurd sighed, straightening and crossing his arms. “These are trained knights, they’re not going to━” Sigurd’s brow dropped, eyes narrowing.

  Vel turned back to the pier, blinking. Sandy was running down the pier, the knights stiffening as he approached.

  [Keen Eye level 8]

  What? Do I just get a level every time I notice something small like that? Vel thought, noting the notification before she continued to watch Aden. If only I had [keen hearing] . . . Aden pointed behind him, the guards both perking up. One looked at the other, who then ran up the pier and straight onto the street, spear in hand. Is [keen hearing] even a thing? Vel wondered.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Whatever he did, kid’s smart,” Sigurd said.

  “Did you just compliment him?” Amalia asked.

  “Don’t ever tell him,” Sigurd turned, stepped over a barrel, then jogged down the pier to Sandy, who looked to be arguing.

  “Okay then,” Vel said, standing up. Amalia followed after as she placed one foot over the knocked barrel, pausing as she looked up at a burly, shirtless man while he passed by “I cannot wait to be someplace where men have the propriety.” She crossed the barrel completely.

  “Have you looked at the women yet, Vel?” Amalia asked.

  “What?” Vel blinked, scanning the street. Women. Leather corsets, and . . . “Holy Retr━her chest is going to fall out!”

  Amalia giggled, placing a hand on Vel’s shoulder as she had to quite literally jump over the barrel. “Try not to think about it,” she said.

  Vel nodded, moving to see past some stacked crates, just in time to find Sigurd knocking the remaining knight in the water and calling for them. “Wow, I should get distracted more often,” Vel noted, and picking up the skirt of her dress, ran down the pier. Then maybe Sigurd would stop making me do all the dirty work, she thought.

  The closer she got to the ship, the more her heart picked up its pace. They were stealing a ship, actually doing it. But stealing was a crime; a sin! And yet, Vel smiled. While she warred internally about killing two men, stealing seemed like something so . . . better? Well, the truly refreshing part was that she was stealing from the church itself.

  Vel passed by Sigurd first, who was looking over her head, then she passed Aden. The healer, ironically, kicked the knight in the water, preventing the man from climbing onto the dock. He thrashed, and while a part of Vel felt bad, another part of her thought that maybe he deserved it.

  No, you can’t think like that, she told herself. Edard was a knight in the church’s army, and he hadn’t known just how evil the church was. He did his duty until he couldn’t and now so was this knight too. They don’t know any better, she thought, rushing up the gangplank, boots scraping across a well kept main deck.

  “Edard first,” she whispered, thought a thought in the back of her head tempted her into looking at more than just Edard. Mama Rosie, Pennant. They saw the corruption of the church, so could others.

  Amalia ran up beside Vel, gasping. “How . . . do you . . . run so fast?” she asked.

  Sigurd stepped onto the deck. “I’ll check below deck,” he said, Aden pulling the gangplank up.

  “No,” the healer shook his head. “We can deal with anyone below deck after the anchor is up and we’re on our way. Everyone on the capstan.” Aden ran towards the front of the deck, Vel following close behind.

  Aden pushed on one of four long handles of a massive crank, Vel placing her hands on the rough wood. She pushed, and blinked, then leaned her weight into the handle, feeling the crank resist with a groan.

  “Who made this so heavy?” she asked, the crank lurching forward, and Vel stumbling with it. Steadying her feet beneath her, she pushed, and while it was still heavy, it was much easier now that it was moving. Glancing behind her, she found Sigurd, red faced, putting his back into it. Looking forward, she wondered if it was sheer physical strength Sigurd had, or if it was his skills . . .

  But he has dexterity skills mostly, she thought.

  The crank jammed, then clicked, and as it did, a flurry of feet pounding against wood sounded. As Vel stepped away from the capstan, she peered at the squadron of church knights making their way towards them, though there was no way they could get on now, the ship already floating away.

  “Hoist the sails!” Sandy called, running to a set of rope wrapped pegs at the mast, freeing ropes quickly. “All four of us are needed. Everyone take a line,” Aden hand Vel a rough rope, then Amalia, leaving him and Sigurd on either side of them. “Pull! Hard as you can!”

  At the command, Vel yanked, knuckles whitening as the rope slipped a bit when she was forced to put all her weight into the task.

  [Tough Hide level 57]

  An arrow whistled just in front of them, Vel gasping and stumbling back, fortunately, taking the rope and its awful weight with her. The furled sail lifted, but not nearly fast enough when another arrow grazed Sigurd’s line, and thudded against the mast.

  “This isn’t fast enough, boy, we’re exposed! She’s exposed!” the hunter hissed, nodding his head towards Vel.

  “Almost there!” Aden yelled. The Sail’s beam stalled, going no higher, and Aden, keeping his line taut, moved towards the mast to tie it.

  “Stop!” Sigurd yelled, looking over his shoulder towards the pier. The knights there, bows in their hands, released another arrow, which seemed premature, curving and thudding against the ship’s railing, passing through the spot the healer would have been if he hadn’t frozen at Sigurd’s command.

  Now, however, Aden jumped towards his peg, and as he wrapped his line around it, he moved around the mast, just out of view of the archers, though that left him at an awkward angle.

  “He can’t tie all the ropes like that,” Vel said, leaning back as her shoulders grew sore, muscles straining from the weight. She carefully inched back on the rope, leaning back further if only to hide more from the archers.

  “No, he can’t, but he can heal,” Sigurd said, Pulling tightly on his line, he rushed forward fast as he could, moving to the mast. Just as he did, an arrow flew, scraping across his back before lodging into his right shoulder at an awkward angle.

  “Imbecile!” Amalia cried, drowning out Vel’s gasp and Sigurd’s grunts of pain. Yet, the hunter pushed on. He wrapped his rope around a peg, tying it with a less than neat knot.

  When he turned around, Vel grimaced at how the pain had reddened his face, worse than her own strained one looked under her veil, she was sure. Her shoulders ached, and elbows protested at her hold, a hold that Sigurd took away from both her and Amalia when he took a rope in each of his hands, taking their places.

  “Get this ship sailing, kid,” he hissed, sweat dripping from his face.

  “I should heal━”

  “Sail, damnit!”

  “Yes Captain!” Aden chirped, loosing lines from behind the mass. As he did, the sail began to unfurl, awkward, but it unfurled. “Grab that line!” he pointed to the other side of the sail as he pulled on a corner, and Vel ran towards it, running out from the safety the structure on the back of the ship created━notably not a cabin.

  As she caught the thick line, she glimpsed the pier. It was further away now, the waves urging them bit by bit, and the archers no longer stood at its end. Had they just waited, then maybe Sigurd wouldn’t have━

  “Pull, landlubber, pull!” Snapped from her worries, Vel pulled at the rope, gasping at how the wind in the sail pulled at her.

  “What am I doing?” she asked, glancing at Sandy. He was tying his rope at the edge of the deck, and Vel turned, finding the same steel eyelet to loop hers through. As she pulled, the healer came up behind her, taking the rope and pulling it through like it was nothing. Nothing.

  After he tied it, Vel blinked, looking at him. Now that she considered it, he did look well built, despite his size. Just past him, however, over the waters, was a massive three masted ship, the sails bearing the church’s emblem.

  “Oh no,” Vel said.

  Aden looked up as he finished the knot. “We’re dead.”