The young ones ran to the dock and were welcomed aboard the Garnor, where they climbed onto the deck. The entire crew was gathered there, along with the new recruits. The boatswain called for silence as Captain Skippy emerged from his cabin, followed by the secretary, and climbed to the quarterdeck to address them all:
"Listen up, crew and newcomers!" he began. "Today, we leave behind the mainland and its chains. Out there, in the endless blue, there are no kings or laws to govern us. Only us, our wits, and the sharpness of our blades."
Everyone cheered. The captain raised a hand for silence, reinforced by the boatswain's shout.
"Each of you chose this path. I promise no comfort, no easy glory. I promise storms, hunger, cannon fire… and gold—if we survive long enough to claim it," the captain continued .
"Shit," muttered Cody. Sammy elbowed him to shut up.
"There are no masters here," the captain said, looking to all on deck, "but there's only one captain—me—and the fair word that will keep us alive. Obey orders. Fight like devils. We'll share the loot as brothers… or lie at the bottom of the sea like fools. We have a code aboard, strict as it gets, and it's enforced like the very law of the gods."
"There is only one God!" a pirate interrupted, raising a Bible.
The boatswain shot him a glare as sharp as a harpoon's tip.
"Belay that jawing, Smith, and stow that holy book in your sea chest," he barked at the pirate clutching the Bible.
The captain paused, his gaze sweeping the deck like a broadside across the crew, and then bellowed:
"So bind your souls to the mast, pray to whoever you want,"the captain said, "and prepare yourselves! The Garnor sails with the high tide. Let any cowards jump overboard now while they still have sense!"
With that, cheers and applause broke out again. The captain ordered preparations to cast off. The boatswain began shouting commands, and the deck erupted in activity: men climbed the rigging, scaled the shrouds, and others turned the capstan to raise the anchor, while the ship's bell rang out. With the sun sinking over the horizon, the Garnor maneuvered to depart the port of Kayona.
Meanwhile, on solid ground, the spy made his way to The Infamous. There, he reported to Carioca about the kids, though he hadn't identified the captain who had recruited them.
"And who the hell was the captain that took them in?" roared Carioca.
The spy paused, thinking for a moment.
"Uh… I didn't quite catch that, sir, due to all the noise in the tavern…"
"You didn't follow them to the ship they boarded?"
"My rheumatism in my right foot kept me from catching up…," the spy said.
Carioca looked at the spy, then at his boatswain, Mr. Briggs.
"He's worse than Wilbur," he growled. "Toss him overboard and set course for open sea!"
"Captain, I did what I could! At least… a small coin?"
Carioca paused, reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver piece of eight, and tossed it to the boatswain, who caught it midair. The spy watched eagerly and smiled.
"Thank you, Captain," he said.
"Mr. Briggs, give him the coin… but throw it into the sea. Then toss him in too—let him find his treasure at the bottom."
A moment later, the coin was flung into the water, followed by the spy, who splashed into the filthy bay and began kicking desperately to reach the shore, while The Infamous came alive with activity.
Carioca ordered to set sail and raid every ship they could find in search of Balin's granddaughter. And if they didn't find her, he wouldn't hesitate to sink any vessel that stood in his way.
Meanwhile, aboard the Garnor, already lost in the vastness of the ocean, Skippy retired to his cabin accompanied by Secretary Paine. They made their way to a reinforced chamber of walnut and brass, where the salty mist barely seeped in. They locked the door behind them and, after ensuring they were alone, Skippy opened a hidden compartment and pulled out a communication device—a phone they connected to a wall-mounted screen.
They sat at a small table. Skippy activated the device and, after a few seconds, the angry face of the Governor of Sylvandria appeared on the screen.
"Good evening, Gover—" Paine began.
"What's the status?" the governor interrupted sharply.
"We're at sea," Skippy reported, arms crossed with a professional air.
The governor frowned, his face tightened with impatience.
"You're late," he snapped coldly. "Every minute lost could cost us more than you know."
Skippy clenched his jaw, holding back a retort.
"I was recruiting crew," he replied. "It's not something one can improvise."
"It wasn't easy, Governor. Demand is low. Interest has waned since the treaty," added Paine.
"We needed capable hands for what's coming. And volunteers aren't exactly lining up on land," said the captain.
The governor narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him with suspicion. His image flickered on the screen, as if magnetic interference rattled the channel.
"Don't forget," he warned gravely, "the objective is top priority. The treasure must be secured before the next conjunction. If you fail…" He paused ominously. "The consequences won't be yours alone. It'll affect us all."
The connection abruptly cut out, leaving the screen black and the air charged with a faint static buzz.
Skippy let out a low growl and, without hesitation, pulled a bottle of Elven liquor from a cabinet. He poured two glasses: one he handed to Paine, the other he kept for himself. He raised his.
"A toast to the mission we've been given… to cover the messes of our cynical Sylvandrian administrator. Galu!"
Mr. Paine offered a discreet smile and sipped from his glass. He knew the captain was right, but his caution kept him from saying a single word.