The docks reeked of salt, tar, and too many sailors who thought bathing was optional. Lyra wrinkled her nose as we followed Captain Veynar down the pier, his coat flapping dramatically in the sea breeze.
"Why do I feel like you just sold us to pirates?" she muttered.
"Privateers," I corrected. "Big difference. Pirates steal. Privateers… get paid to steal."
"That doesn't make me feel better."
At the end of the dock loomed Veynar's flagship: The Stormrider. Sleek, fast, bristling with cannons—and now, apparently, my test bench.
"Here she is," Veynar announced proudly. "Strong, swift… but missing a few tricks. That's where you come in, boy."
I blinked. "…Did you just call me boy?"
Lyra smirked. "You did agree to this."
The captain ignored us, waving at the deck crew. "Clear space! The inventor works today!"
Suddenly, I had half a dozen expectant sailors staring at me. No pressure. Absolutely no pressure.
Commission One: Shipwide Lighting
First problem: ships go dark at night. Lanterns + ocean winds = bad idea. My solution? Reroute current through a line of enchanted copper cables.
Which was how I found myself stringing wires like Christmas lights across the mast while Lyra stood below shouting:
"Don't fall!"
"Relax! I used to climb poles all the time!"
"…Why?"
"Because people really love electricity!"
The system sparked to life with a pulse from my bracer, and suddenly the entire deck glowed under pale, steady light. Sailors cheered. Lyra folded her arms, unimpressed.
"Great. You invented… a lamp."
"Correction: a lamp grid."
Commission Two: The Shock Net Upgrade
Next came the fishing nets. Veynar wanted a way to deter sea beasts. With a bit of conductive quartz and some repurposed slime cores, I turned the nets into live wires.
"Throw it!" I ordered.
The sailors heaved. The net landed in the water—then a flash of light and a sizzling ZAP! sent a school of fish belly-up to the surface.
The crew whooped. Lyra sighed. "So… we're committing seafood genocide now?"
"Efficiently," I said, proudly scribbling notes.
Commission Three: Prototype Tools
Finally, the big-ticket items.
Lightning Glasses (Binoculars): Copper-framed lenses infused with spiritwood chips. They magnified distance, but also highlighted mana traces. Downside? Sailor #2 nearly fell overboard when he yelled "SEA MONSTER" at a passing dolphin.
Handgun (Pulse Shooter): A short-range, palm-sized tool that fired condensed electrical bursts. "For defense only," I insisted. Cue sailor #3 immediately blasting a barrel and shrieking, "I'M A GOD!"
Captain's Personal Toy: A reinforced baton that channeled lightning like a taser. Veynar tested it on a crate, reducing it to splinters. He grinned at me like Christmas had come early.
By the time the sun dipped toward the horizon, the Stormrider looked less like a merchant ship and more like a floating science experiment. The sailors cheered my name. Lyra pinched the bridge of her nose like she'd aged twenty years in a single afternoon.
"You realize this paints a giant target on us, right?" she muttered.
"Correction," I said, flexing my aching hands, "a glowing, electrified target."
Veynar clapped me on the back, nearly knocking me off the dock. "Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! With your toys, boy, no beast or pirate will dare challenge us!"
Lyra muttered under her breath, "Until they do."
I pretended not to hear. Because, honestly, part of me couldn't wait for the inevitable messy fight. After all, what's the point of building shiny new toys if you never get to see them explode?