“You’re a lizard, yes?” Xenepol asked, buying time for his sword to split horizontally, the two halves giving way to reveal a glowing core which soon shot a sort of beam of light into the sky, manifesting a great number of swords from it.

  “What about it?” Avignon asked, catching his breath. The venom he’d ejected took a lot out of him.

  “You’re cold-blooded, then?” The swordsman retrieved a queer blade, long and slender, with a fine tip. The weirdest thing about this was the material - it appeared to be made of a refined ice, and in fact the air around it crackled with the cold, and the rain froze to hit the cobblestones with a satisfying tink.

  “Good luck.” Was the only warning the lizardman gave as he dashed forward, and true to his tone, he had no trouble at all dodging his opponent’s various thrusts and slashes, now having regained some stamina.

  Slowly, however, the cold was taking its toll on him. Each dodge was closer than the last, each parry less solid and each appropriate punishment more superficial. Eventually, the effects were compiling too heavily, and he found himself on the backfoot, panting and huffing as he was now the one who felt his body being prodded and cut.

  “I never thought I’d die in such a shithole.” He said just as the blade pierced his heart.

  “A poor choice of last words, to be sure.” Xenepol said, returning that sword to its luminous storage.

  Even with her sight failing and her body hurt, Rian used her inhuman stature to continue her assault, even if occasionally, she was forced to direct her attention elsewhere. Eventually though, she slipped up for just long enough to allow the Chief to get her rapier in between the links of her chain and stuff the taller woman’s means of attack.

  “Damn you!” She said, momentarily glancing at Deodat’s corpse, “What the fuck is wrong with this city?!”

  The singular lapse in concentration was enough for Rian to gain back control of her weapon, but the Chief was nonetheless confident in her abilities. Deodat’s killer was regaining his strength, and this woman in front of her was already badly injured. All she needed was one final distraction, and so she pointed behind her opponent.

  “What?” She asked, observing that Rian had not changed direction, “How?”

  “It’s easy,” Rian explained coldly and calmly as she sliced the Chief’s neck open, “I simply can’t see right now, on account of the venom.”

  “She’s dead, drag?.” Xenepol said, looting her sword and taking his wife’s hand, “Let’s get going.”

  —

  “I suppose that’s everything.” One of the Cartesian soldiers said, waving his men off the ship, “You’re free to go, Mr. Paracelsus.”

  Immediately, he took Lonceré and the two of them boarded the kedger, pulling the main ship in the correct direction to begin sailing when they caught the wind. As they grabbed the oars and began rowing, however, they heard a grunt of exertion from behind them.

  “Are you serious?” The Captain asked, exasperated, as he saw the same Paladin they’d heard of earlier in the week on his ship, his golden wings allowing him to fight with a distinct advantage against those on the ground, “We need to get up there first.”

  When they climbed back up, they saw quite the sight. Roland, flying through the air and only occasionally descending to strike at one of the crew, was similarly advantaged by the rain, seeing as the guns were now less than effective. The only one with any ability to attack was Serpacinno, who had odd pieces of hardware and some throwing knives to launch at him, and Gareland, who could maneuver in the air.

  “Careful!” The fairy shouted at the snakewoman, “You’re going to clip me with one of those things!”

  Quickly doffing his jacket and turning it into a few bolas, he gave them to the aforementioned swordswoman, instructing, “Aim for his wings.”

  “Got it!” She replied. A few seconds later, the distinctive splash of an object hitting the water was heard as she missed.

  “Everyone take a few!” Paracelsus said, handing them out to the crew, who were similarly inept at hitting them. “Lonceré you don’t need anything to throw.”

  “Oh, you’re right.” He crouched down, putting his hands into a cup and summoned a double. The doppelganger ran forward, using his original’s hands as a springboard to launch into the air. Was it a good idea? In theory, yes, but in practice, the angelic paladin was far too high and saw it coming, so the double missed his target by nearly ten yards and instead went careening into the quarterdeck, whereupon impact its neck snapped and it returned to dust.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Just as Paracelsus was about to complain about his cook’s idiocy, it seemed that the momentary distraction afforded by his pitiful display allowed another of them, probably Gareland all things considered, to land a rope around their assailant’s wing and ground him.

  “Alright, big guy,” Paracelsus said, all of the crew backing him up in drawing their weapons, “How about you get off our ship, and we forget this ever happened? There are seven of us and one of you.”

  “Nine?” Roland asked, moving his eyes from Paracelsus, to Serpacinno, to Gareland, to Sally, to Lonceré, and finally to the Shah “I only see six.”

  “Now, Tariq!” Paracelsus shouted at the ladder on the mast.

  “Aye, Captain!” Tariq launched off the pillar, deactivating his invisibility as he brought down his knife, managing to snag the Paladin’s helmet and cut him across the cheek, “Shit.”

  Just before it seemed like the helmsman was to be cleft in twain, his Captain threw what was once nothing but a simple shirt (although now it was steel) which he used to barely deflect the blow and save his own life.

  Serpacinno roared as she charged the hulking, giant man with the Shah, each taking a flank to lay blows down upon his side. She would absolutely not be allowing this, of all things, to stop them. And the only reason he was unable to deal with them was because Gareland was flying around his head, and even if the bullets were ultimately ineffective, seeing as she wasn’t aiming for his head, they provided enough of a dull aching and distraction to draw his attention.

  This continued for a few seconds, but before anyone else could join the fray, it seemed his gaze had paralyzed the fairy, and he seized her by the waist before throwing her off into the distance.

  “Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-” She cried as she was hurled through the air.

  Then, the Paladin began his assault a new, swinging in a wide, circular arc to knock Serpacinno’s sword out of her hands send her stumbling back to the gunwale, where she barely had time to roll out of the way of a vertical slice which cleanly cut through the structure.

  “Take this!” Sally shouted as she managed to regain her bearings and attack with her own swordplay, using her superior speed to dodge in and out of his range and vision until she tripped over her own feet and went tumbling to the ground.

  Before he could deliver the finishing blow, he felt his body grow heavy as a hand fell upon his back. It was the Captain, who had fused the metal in his armor to the deck, before manifesting a pair of metal gloves to box the Paladin. To add on to this, he wasn’t alone - the cook and his double had joined in, and the three of them were joined by Tariq, who had begun an assault with the crossbow he kept stashed.

  “This is becoming tiresome!” Rolan said, using the side of his blade to bat away all the melee fighters, knocking the Captain into Tariq and sending all three of them tumbling in a groaning mess of limbs.

  However, he found himself interrupted again when Serpacinno and Sally recovered and combined their with the Shah’s continuous attacks on his person. He got more frustrated as time went on, due to the constant pelting, and just as he’d secured the snakewoman, Paracelsus used a flail to drag her away and the Paladin finally cut himself loose from his binds to give chase.

  “Thanks,” She said with a nod before redoubling her attacks. Surely, slowly, and bit by agonizing bit, his armor was giving way and he was starting to feel the attacks on his real, physical body, “Can you move?”

  “Not very well,” He handed her a small metal hammer, “Take this. I’ll give you the other tool in a minute.”

  Gareland had, at this point, made her way back to the Current and was now joining the fray, using her saber to contest against the massive broadsword the Paladin held. She felt somewhat conflicted, he was a good Orthodox Paacist like her, but needs be and all that. It only fuelled the crew’s morale when he started to grunt, even going as far as to drop to a knee with a powerful groan.

  In the downtime between when he was able to flex his gift again, Paracelsus continued his long-ranged assault with the flail, even going as far as to form a crack in the shoulderplate.

  “Keep it up!” He shouted, now having the whole crew surrounding him to deliver a walloping, “We’ve got him against the ropes!”

  “The ropes?” Gareland remarked, having been the least rattled in the fight, she took the initiative to crack a remark.

  “Never mind that!” He whooped, before creating a small, malleable, silvery stiletto before tossing it to Serpacinno, “Here! Use it like a chisel! Everyone else - clear out!”

  Despite not receiving any instructions, Lonceré had the good sense to have his double cover the Paladin’s eyes to prevent him from trying to paralyze Serpacinno. A second later, and she jammed the stiletto into the shoulderplate of the knight and observed the sparks. Another second later and she used the hammer for its intended purpose, and the sparks became embers - the embers became an explosion, and when the dust settled Roland’s arm was mangled, though not beyond repair, with bones, muscle and skin all charred and damaged.

  “Oh, shit,” Paracelsus put his hand over his mouth, ripping what remained of his vest to wrap around his shoulder, “That was a bit more powerful than I’d intended.”

  “Fuck!” Serpacinno shouted, and Paracelsus immediately came to her side, tending to the burn on her left eye, “You did make it a bit too strong.”

  “Shit, shit, sorry.” He ran to the officers’ cabin and grabbed some balm to rub over her eye, “Good news - it shouldn’t take too long to heal.” He turned to address his gawking crew, who were gawking at the tenderness he showed to his first mate, “What are you doing? Get him on a boat and start us off!”

  “Aye, Captain!” They shouted in unison, although Sally was more or less useless. Having absolutely no experience in setting sail, she stood around pulling on ropes and tying, perhaps, the worst knots known to man.

  “Wait! Wait!” They heard someone shouting from the pier, and saw Xenepol and Rian sprinting towards them, “We need a ride!”

  “Jump or drown!” Paracelsus shouted, going back to dressing his partner’s wounds.

  They did, in fact, jump, and rolled on their shoulders to land safely and without injury. Standing up, they revealed their light packings, only a suitcase each, and Xenepol shook the Captain’s hand, not waiting for him to offer a handshake.

  “I’ll admit - I didn’t think you’d jump.” The Captain said, “Well, you two can sleep in the hold for two-fifty a night, and you’ll help with chores.”

  Xenepol held a firm glare and strongly considered challenging him to a fight, but even if his crew was worn out, his own party was in no condition to challenge them, so, after a few seconds, he regretfully said “Fine.”

  “Can you make room for a third?” LJ asked, walking up from the middle deck, hands behind his back.

  “And who the -”

  “Absolutely not!” Gareland interrupted her captain, drawing her sword, “Get the fuck off of this ship!”

  “Come on, sister,” He walked over, and wrapped an arm around both Gunner and Captain, “Non ti sei mica rammollito, have you? I won’t hurt any of you, prometto.”

  Gareland gritted her teeth. Even though she was trying to leave her life behind, her honor wouldn’t allow her to turn her back on him.