Jael woke with a headache pounding in time with his heartbeat, the unforgiving morning sun slicing through the window like a blade. He blinked blearily, registering the weight across his chest: Danni, sprawled over him, snoring softly. A smirk tugged at his lips as he nudged her gently.

  “No,” she mumbled, burrowing deeper into him.

  “Danni,” he whispered, nudging her again.

  She shifted, muttering what sounded suspiciously like a curse, enough for him to slip out from under her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he rubbed his face and scanned her room for his pants. Clothing, two empty wine bottles, and one of her boots were strewn about like the remnants of a battlefield. Finally spotting his pants tangled with her undergarments, he extricated them with as much dignity as he could muster. His shirt was a lost cause—soaked in booze and reeking of the previous night—so he left it behind.

  Quietly, he crept out of her room, dressed just enough to avoid scandal, and headed for his quarters. After grabbing fresh clothes, he made his way to the water barrel outside. Dunking his head, then his upper body, he let the icy water jolt him into semi, clarity. Pulling on clean clothes, he steeled himself for what was next: the mess hall.

  He was unsurprised to find it half, destroyed from the previous night’s revelry. Tables were skewed at odd angles, flagons littered the floor, and the place smelled of stale ale and sweat. Madgrin snored contentedly on the floor, clutching an empty tankard like a child with a toy. The brothers, Thom, and Marc were draped over chairs in a tangled heap of limbs and lamellar armor.

  At a corner table, Eruch and Varilla sat, plates of eggs and steaming coffee before them. Varilla, now the Captain of the Freebooters, once the Witch of the Wastes, favored magus of the Bulvi, and wife to Eruch, was a woman whose beauty carried an undeniable and enigmatic allure. Her mystique was not just in her striking features but in the commanding presence that seemed to wrap around her like a shroud. She was known to favor black, a color that seemed to embody her essence. Her robe, a simple yet elegant garment, was dyed as dark as a moonless night, flowing around her with understated grace. Black pearls adorned her wrists, catching the light with a muted, almost faded shimmer. Her belt and satchel were equally dark, black leather. Her hair, the blackest of all, cascaded like liquid shadow, framing her face with an almost otherworldly perfection.

  Her figure, too, drew notice, her shapely form evident even beneath the modest cut of her robe. Her hips were full, her curves generous yet balanced, lending a grounded strength to her almost mystical. Her lips, full and painted a deep crimson, were a stark contrast against her pale complexion, hinting at the fire hidden within her seemingly icy demeanor. But it was her eyes that left the most lasting impression, piercing and gray, sharp as a needle. They held a coldness that could unsettle even the most stalwart soul, their deadpan affect betraying nothing of her thoughts or emotions. In her eyes, there was a mind always calculating, always watching, and always a step ahead. In her early thirties, Varilla was a study in contradictions, strikingly beautiful yet unapproachable, graceful yet unyielding. She was a woman few could read, her moods and intentions as opaque as the void she favored in her attire.

  Next to her sat her husband, Eruch, once Decker, now the Warmaster of the Freebooters, the Twilight Blade. His easygoing smile lit up his rugged, weathered face, the tan of his skin a testament to a life spent under the sun and in the thick of battle. His hair, kept short for years, now showed a hint of length.. A clean, shaven chin framed his smile, which radiated warmth and unshakable confidence. Where Varilla was stark and enigmatic, Eruch was vibrant, an unmistakable force of positivity and gregariousness that seemed to light up any room he entered.

  In his thirties, Eruch exuded the vitality of a seasoned warrior. He wore simple yet impeccably crafted half, plate armor, designed for function rather than flash. At breakfast, he had left off the upper pieces, wearing only his greaves and a loose gambeson over his torso. His physique was striking, muscular yet agile, a blend of a dancer’s grace and a boxer’s raw power. On his hip rested a longsword, rarely drawn now, and a well, used hand axe, his preferred companion in combat.

  Two things about him were immediately hard to ignore. First, his infectious personality. His presence commanded attention effortlessly, drawing people in with a natural charisma that seemed to elevate the mood of those around him. Second, his hands. They were gnarled and twisted, each finger bearing the marks of having been broken and healed improperly. The Bulvi’s magic had preserved their deformed state, ensuring they remained a constant reminder of the moment his wife’s spurned lover had shattered them. They trembled faintly at rest and more noticeably when he gripped objects, a silent testament to a swordsman whose unmatched skill had been forcibly taken from him. Yet despite this loss, Eruch carried himself with unshakable resolve. Where others might have seen his hands as a mark of weakness, he bore them with the quiet strength of a man who had already overcome. His spirit, undimmed, remained as sharp as the blade he no longer wielded with ease.

  Jael caught Eruch’s eye, and the older man, grinning slyly, ladled a heaping spoonful of eggs onto a plate and poured a mug of coffee. Jael made his way over, carefully stepping over Madgrin and other sprawled bodies, before collapsing into the seat across from them.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Eruch said with a chuckle as Jael downed half the scalding coffee in one go, barely wincing as it scorched his tongue.

  Varilla reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. Her eyes glowed faintly green, and just like that, the pounding in his skull disappeared.

  “Thanks, Captain,” Jael muttered, shoveling eggs into his mouth with a groan of relief.

  “You really got into it last night,” Eruch teased, his grin widening.

  Jael sighed, running a hand over his stubbled scalp. “Yeah, well, I don’t drink often. Last night was… an exception.”

  Eruch nodded, his smile softening as he gestured toward Bardour, passed out in a corner amidst a small pile of coins. “It was a good send, off. The old boy deserved it.”

  “He did,” Jael agreed, his voice tinged with regret. “It’s hard to see him go. He was a good man. But retirement suits him. Surprised he’s leaving though.”

  “Hard to say no to a gig at a brewery, especially for him. he’ll drink himself stupid. Eruch nodded gravely. “We lose a solid plankholder with him.”

  Before Jael could respond, the door creaked open, and Tonkes shuffled in, bleary, eyed but upright. Eruch waved him over, his grin returning. “Come on, Tonkes. Coffee’s still hot, and there’s eggs left. Barely.” Jael watched in disbelief as Tonkes, the newly minted officer, settled into a chair. His scraggly skullet hung askew, but his craggy face betrayed not a hint of fatigue from the previous night’s debauchery.

  “How in all the hells aren’t you dead?” Jael exclaimed, shaking his head. “You drank more than anyone!”

  Tonkes shrugged, plucking an apple from the table, and taking a hearty bite. “Practice, lad. This gut’s steel, forged and quenched in many a fire of booze.” He patted his stomach with pride.

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  Eruch chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “I remember during the Libertan War, Tonkes drank seven Vacul knights under the table. And he’d already been at it for hours before they joined in.”

  Tonkes grinned, winking as he chewed. “Made a pretty bit of coin that night, I did. Now that was a party.”

  Jael shook his head and sipped his coffee. “I think it’ll take a week to recover from this one.”

  “Speaking of recovery, where’s Ms. Singlehand?” Tonkes asked, nudging Jael with a grin.

  Jael’s cheeks flushed red as Eruch smirked. “Now, now, Tonkes. Jael’s not one to kiss and tell,” Eruch said. “Though, I do recall telling you both to take it upstairs at one point.”

  Jael groaned, bowing his head as Tonkes laughed.

  “That’s right! You two were right there.” Tonkes jabbed a finger toward the bar. “On that bar! Have you cleaned it yet?”

  “I will,” Jael mumbled, clearly regretting the memory.

  “See that you do,” Tonkes said in mock, seriousness, pointing an authoritative finger. “So sayeth this officer.”

  Eruch snickered, and Varilla rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips.

  “Yes, sir.” Jael’s reluctant smile crept through. “By the way, did I congratulate you last night? I think I did, but... the night’s a bit hazy.”

  “Oh, you did,” Tonkes assured him, grinning wide. “Stood up on a table and sang my praises, you did. Loud and proud.”

  Jael blinked, glancing to Eruch and Varilla for confirmation. Both nodded, grinning.

  “Well, good then,” Jael muttered, looking a bit sheepish.

  “Aye, and not just any song!” Tonkes added with a laugh. “Turns out our swordsman’s got a voice fit for a minstrel. Fine timbre and pitch.”

  Jael shrugged with a smirk. “I aim to please.”

  Tonkes clapped him on the shoulder and dug into a plate of eggs with the voracious appetite of a seasoned soldier.

  “So, you going to compete?” Eruch asked as he stirred his coffee.

  Jael shrugged. “It will delay us leaving out, but not by much. Three weeks. You think that will be alright?”

  “I don’t think that’s a problem. We still have to get all the provisions together for your journey.” Eruch said, glancing to Varilla.

  Jael nodded. “Figure you took second two years back; I’ll give my go at it. Danni want’s to as well. It starts in twelve days. Only takes a couple days, then we can head out, if that’s amenable?”

  Varilla nodded. “I’m fine with that. I think the crew would enjoy seeing the pair of you make a run at the tournament. From what you all have said, it was an enjoyable time two years ago.”

  Jael smiled. “Good deal. Then I’m going to grab Danni and get to training. You put some time in with us?” He said to Eruch.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” He smiled.

  “Good. Twelve days. We can polish up. Think Miter Dawn competes again?”

  Eruch nodded. “Two years ago he said if he won again, he would be the first person do it that many times. A personal quest of his. He will compete.”

  “Hate to dash his hopes.” Jael grinned.

  “Boy has a bit shine on him.” Tonkes laughed. “I’ll put money says you make top eight. Maybe Danni too. We’ll see.”

  Jael shrugged. “Good training, it’ll be fun to do. Braid Tournament of Champions, the warm, up for the chariot race.”

  “They love their damn chariots.” Tonkes sighed.

  “After it’s done, leave out. How long you think you’ll be on the road?” Eruch asked, shifting the tone to business.

  Jael nodded, glancing at Varilla. “That’s the plan. Two months at least. Three, maybe, four at the most. We find nothing after three, we’re heading back. You’re still good with the layout I sent?”

  “Danni, Lucius, you, and Eldan,” Eruch confirmed. “I know you wanted Vicitus, but I’m keeping him with Tonkes. Eldan’s earned his plank, and I think pairing him with you will help iron out any lingering doubts. Tonkes, you agree?”

  Tonkes nodded thoughtfully, taking another bite of apple. “Aye, I’ll keep Vicitus steady. Eldan with Jael makes sense.”

  “Lucius should be ready,” Varilla interjected, setting down her coffee. “I regret I can’t go myself, but my responsibilities here take precedence. The last two weeks have been a crash course for him, and we’ve translated as much of that journal as possible. He knows what to look for.”

  “Danni’s more than ready,” Jael added, his tone confident. “I’ve been running her through drills—” Tonkes raised an eyebrow, smirking. Jael cut him off with a glare. “—with a sword, Tonkes. She’s sharp and only getting better. Eldan’s a solid addition.”

  “That leaves Madgrin, Urskine, Lincoln, Thom, Marc, Hammer, and Vicitus to handle the senator’s needs,” Eruch said, turning back to Tonkes.

  “And the rest of us to cover other operations,” Varilla added. “Ibrahim and Aster are focused on the senator’s forged orders. Sammy and Andri are working another angle.”

  “I’ll get the books sorted tonight,” Tonkes said, gesturing to the chaos in the mess hall. Bottles and scraps of food lay strewn across tables and the floor. “And account for all we spent on this little shindig.”

  “Much appreciated,” Eruch said, a faint smile on his face as he glanced at the mess. “Let’s make sure it was worth it.”

  “Still can’t believe Andri agreed to become the Loremaster,” Jael said with a shrug. “Our Captain is nothing if not persuasive.”

  Varilla smiled softly. “She’ll do an excellent job. And she’ll still solicit business, so now we’ve got three officers actively finding work.”

  “And thank the gods it’s not Tonkes,” Eruch added, laughing. “He’d just fill the ledger with lewd sketches.”

  “Oi, now,” Tonkes retorted with a chuckle. “Who told you I could draw? Didn’t know I had that talent. Maybe I should be the Loremaster.”

  “You’re better suited as Paymaster,” Eruch teased. “No one wants to read your accounts. Every entry would start with ‘Great Tonkes...’ and go downhill from there.”

  Tonkes snickered and gave a conceding nod. “Fair enough.”

  Jael’s smile faded as Varilla turned her eyes on him, her tone serious. “Jael, your job is to go north and see what you can find. If it’s too much, you come back. Don’t be reckless.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Jael said with a firm nod. “We won’t be.”

  “I trust you,” Varilla replied, her voice softening slightly. “But I still feel the need to say it. Now...” She glanced around at the mess of the room—empty bottles, scattered plates, and overturned chairs. “This needs a proper cleanup. Tonkes, hire a maid or two for the day from company funds. I don’t want Scalla, and Fallow stuck with all the work.”

  Tonkes nodded, scratching his chin. “Good call. Fallow’s too polite to complain, but I reckon she’s a little down about not getting called for the vote.”

  Eruch shrugged. “We’ve got twenty, one planks. The books are closed for now. Marc, Thom, Eldan, Aster, and Vicitus made the cut this time. Fallow will get her chance—probably when Urskine retires.”

  “True,” Tonkes agreed. “She’s a sweet lass, though. Maybe we could consider expanding the roster? Captain, you’ve read most of the histories—has the company ever run more than twenty, one planks?”

  Varilla nodded. “It has, but it’s rare. At times, we’ve gone up to thirty, though the Loremaster’s always cautioned against it. Feeding that many mouths gets tricky. Historically, we hover around twenty planks and thirty or so mates. Thirty mates equal fifteen planks’ worth of pay at half shares. Right now, we’re light—only one mate.”

  “Andri and Sammy are working on that,” Eruch added. “We’ll need more mates if we want to keep pace.”

  “Agreed,” Tonkes said. “But it’s worth bringing up at the next officers’ meeting—maybe open the books a little wider.”

  “Could be,” Eruch said thoughtfully.

  “The old journals also mention adding another officer when the roster swells,” Varilla noted, rubbing her chin. “A lieutenant, usually when the company reaches forty members. We’re at twenty, two now.”

  “Something to keep in mind,” Tonkes said. “If Andri and Sammy bring in good hands, the senator’s contract could grow. More bodies, more jobs.”

  Varilla nodded. “I’m open to the idea. But I also want to diversify. The senator pays well, but political tides shift. Jael’s mission might pay a fortune—or it might end in disaster.”

  “That’s the truth,” Jael sighed. “But it feels like the right thing to do.”

  “No argument there,” Eruch agreed.

  “And as long as the right thing pays,” Tonkes added, glancing at Varilla with a grin. “That’s the way it should be.”

  Varilla returned the smile, appreciating his support. She knew promoting him to officer had helped, but she also believed he saw her vision, and that the others did too. The past two weeks since taking command from Urskine had been a whirlwind, but for the first time, Varilla felt confident the Freebooters were moving in the right direction.