(Kingdom of the Blacktide Confederacy)
Sunlight poured across the islands of the Blacktide Confederacy like melting gold, the sky wide and cloudless above a kingdom that had never bothered pretending it belonged to polite civilization. The air carried the scent of saltwater, tar, roasted meat, and cheap rum, all of it blending into the familiar perfume of a port that had been built by pirates and proudly stayed that way.
Wooden walkways stretched across the harbor cliffs where markets had been hammered together from mismatched planks. Sailors staggered between stalls selling smoked fish, crooked knives, cursed trinkets and artifacts, and maps that probably led nowhere useful.
Someone had a parrot screaming insults from a cage while a nearby merchant tried convincing a one-eyed corsair that the "ancient compass" in his hands definitely pointed toward buried treasure rather than spinning aimlessly.
"Bitch!"
"Bitch!"
"Bitch!"
The parrot screeched every few seconds.
But the Blacktide Confederacy did not hide what it was.
Flags of dozens of pirate crews flapped from poles driven into rooftops and masts. Cannons sat casually outside taverns as decoration. A half-dozen drunken men argued over dice in the middle of the street while a bard stood on a crate nearby singing a ballad about a captain who married three queens and robbed all of them, one after another.
Even the law here looked strange.
Three Paladin Knights stood near the center of the street where the marketplace widened. Their armor white and gold beneath the sun, polished so thoroughly that the metal reflected the entire chaos of the harbor around them. Each suit carried wide mechanical wings folded along the back, the layered plates shaped like feathers though every piece was clearly forged from reinforced steel. And they all serve and were blessed by the God of Light, Radiance, and Reveal.
A cluster of drunken sailors had gathered in front of them; One of the men leaned close to the tallest knight, the smell of rum probably strong enough to peel the paint of the armor.
"Oi! Look at this shiny bastard," the sailor slurred, knocking his knuckles against the knight's chestplate. "Bet you can see your reflection in this armor, eh?"
Another sailor staggered forward, waving a bottle.
"Tell us something, bird-man. Those wings actually fly, or are they just for show so the nobles can pretend you're angels?! Hey, hey, ask your shiny god if he can give me 100 beautiful naked women! Hah!"
The knights did not respond, they just simply stood there, and the sailors laughed louder at the silence.
One of them shoved a finger toward the wing joints along the knight's back. "Maybe if I yank this piece right here the whole thing falls off. Ya dare me?l
The knight moved, and his gauntlet rose without any kind of signal or warning. The sound of the strike echoed through the street like a cannon firing, and the knight slapped the hell out of the drunk sailor.
A massive thud exploded as the drunk sailor launched upward into the air, spinning wildly while the ground beneath the knight's boots cracked in a spiderweb pattern due to the Paladin's strength. People nearby looked up just in time to see the man cartwheeling through the sky like a ragdoll thrown by an angry god.
His crewmates stared up at the sky.
"…He's still going."
"Rover!!! He won't survive at that height!"
The spinning figure disappeared behind a rooftop somewhere down the street. He was dead for sure, it would be best if no one went to confirm by seeing his crushed remains.
The remaining sailors slowly turned back toward the knights, and one of them clenched his fists and stepped forward.
"You piece of—"
A pair of his friends grabbed him immediately.
"You'd be an idiot to fight a Paladin Knight in their own kingdom!" one of them hissed while dragging him backward. "There's too many of them!"
The angry sailor still struggled until one of the knights suddenly bent his knees, making the pirate freeze.
The knight leaned forward as if preparing to launch himself into the air, and the entire group of sailors screamed and bolted down the street in full panic.
The knight straightened again while watching them run, and a quiet chuckle slipped out beneath the helmet, and continued his patrol with the other Paladins.
Down at the harbor, the White Lantern Port roared with its own brand of chaos, a petty argument.
The docks stretched across the water like a forest of masts. Hundreds of ships filled the harbor, every one of them carrying its own strange personality.
Some vessels displayed massive painted skulls across the hull. Others had sails dyed deep red or black, and one enormous ship had an entire row of carved sea serpents along its sides, their wooden heads jutting out like they were trying to crawl into the ocean themselves.
Crews shouted orders while hauling crates across gangplanks, deckhands patched sails with rough stitching while others sharpened cutlasses on whetstones sitting directly on the dock.
A group of pirates played cards on top of a cannon, someone else had set up a small boxing ring where two enormous men were punching each other while a cheering crowd threw coins into a bucket.
The port was indeed a mess, The White Lantern itself hung above the harbor entrance, a massive crystal lamp suspended between two stone towers. During the night it glowed bright enough to guide ships safely through the reefs surrounding the Confederacy islands, and during the day it simply watched the madness below.
Near the far end of the docks, an argument had drawn a small crowd.
A pirate crew made entirely of women stood on one side of the walkway, and across from them stood a group of broad-shouldered pirates built like walking boulders and ballistas. Several of them carried axes larger than most people's legs while one woman among them had arms thick enough to rival the men beside her.
The argument had drawn a circle of curious pirates, dock workers, and bored sailors who leaned on crates and fish filled barrels just to see how the situation would end.
In the Blacktide Confederacy, loud arguments between crews rarely ended with apologies, and people gathered the same way they gathered around a street performance.
Three women stood beside a tiny ship that rocked lazily against the dock ropes, and the first one looked like she might explode with excitement if someone gave her a good excuse.
Her name was Kappa, and she stood at the front of the group with her weight forward like a person who had already decided this day needed a fight to brighten her day. Two small curved horns pushed through the dark red and black hair tied in a bun at the back of her head. Several loose strands slipped down along her cheeks while uneven bangs hung across her forehead. Her eyes held a pale purple color that stood out against the small heart-shaped tattoo placed under one cheek.
Her outfit looked built for speed and trouble. A sleeveless dark leather vest sat tight around her torso, leaving her arms bare and showing a little muscle earned from climbing rigging and swinging blades. Short belts wrapped across her waist holding throwing knives, flint tools, and a pouch that rattled with metal pieces every time she moved. Dark trousers tucked into knee high boots scarred from too many dock fights, and behind her a thin black tail moved back and forth with energy.
Next to her stood Lodis, and she looked like she had wandered into the wrong career entirely due to her own modesty.
Her white long-sleeve shirt hung loose and simple, the sleeves rolled slightly above the wrists. Brown trousers tucked into sturdy boots that looked well maintained rather than battered like everyone else out there.
A satchel rested at her side, and a braided ponytail of dark blonde hair fell across the back of her shoulder. Her face carried freckles across the nose and cheeks, and light brown eyes studied the rival pirates with visible discomfort.
A wide brown seafarer's hat rested on her head, shading her eyes from the bright sun.
Then there was Fharess.
She stood behind the other two with her arms folded, watching the opposing crew with quiet patience that had a dark and unsettling calm to her posture and aura. Long black curls spilled down past her shoulders, framing pale skin that looked almost untouched by the ocean sun. Her green eyes remained observant while the wind tugged at the long black coat she wore over her clothing.
Everything about her outfit remained dark; black sleeves, black skirt with belts holding small glass vials, black gloves that hid most of her hands.
Across from them, the large crew they were arguing with, their leader stepped forward.
The man was enormous, easily towering over the women while his big arms rested comfortably at his sides. His beard carried streaks of copper red, braided with small metal rings. A deep blue coat hung open across his chest, revealing thick rope scars crossing his torso like someone had once tried to drag him through a battlefield. A massive cutlass rested against his shoulder, its blade wide enough to pass for a small machete.
He jerked a thumb toward the water.
"Move your shitty boat. It's in our space."
Kappa leaned forward instantly. "Make us! I've been wanting to fight all day!"
Lodis stepped forward quickly, raising her hands.
"Our boat is not shi—"
She stopped, her face twisted slightly as she tried very hard not to say the word, trying her hardest to stay modest and not say a curse word.
"Our boat is not… dung," she finished instead.
'That's a better word…' She thought.
Several pirates in the crowd snorted with a laugh, all eyes turned toward the ship tied behind them.
Compared to the massive vessels filling the harbor, the girls' ship looked tiny. Most pirate ships towered above the docks like floating fortresses, masts reaching into the sky and hulls bombarded with cannons.
This one looked closer to a fishing vessel that someone had tried turning into a pirate ship with enthusiasm and limited funds.
The hull carried fresh patches where wood had been replaced. The mast leaned slightly as though it had once been snapped and hurriedly repaired. Two small cannons sat along the sides like decorations rather than actual weapons.
Did those cannons even work at all?
Among the towering ships nearby, it looked like a pebble resting beside a forest, and Kappa pointed angrily at it.
"Y-Yeah! What she said! Our ship isn't dung or shit! We would afford to get a bigger ship if you annoying pirates would stop taking all the good bounties!"
The burly captain rubbed his chin while studying them.
"Hmmm. A petty crew of three females. And one Agmada with you."
His stare moved toward Kappa's horns and tail, and the surrounding pirates murmured quietly.
Agmada were not exactly popular in the world.
The race came from violent mountain regions far from the Confederacy islands. Most Agmada grew with horns, tails, and a natural appetite for combat that made them infamous even among pirates. Their communities raised warriors from childhood, and stories about Agmada tribes often included villages wiped out simply because outsiders had wandered too close to them.
Most sailors believed one thing about them, if you were not Agmada, they probably planned to kill you eventually.
The captain scratched his beard. "Agmada tend to slaughter anything that doesn't look like them. Surprised you haven't eaten these two yet."
All eyes landed on Kappa.
She shrugged.
"First off, I don't eat people. And yeah, I'm an Agmada, so what? Don't compare me to my kin. I actually considered letting you live, but every time I hear your fat blobby ass face talk, I get more and more agitated."
Behind her, Fharess finally spoke.
Her voice carried a calm that did not bother hiding a bit of her natural edge.
"I advise you all to leave us to our business. I see you have positioned your crewmates to block every path we could use to leave the dock. I suggest you move."
The captain's grin widened.
"Ahhh. And a witch."
He tilted his head slightly.
"One that doesn't need Divine Smoke from Godweed, Demonleaf, or Sea Ash. You evil lot just pull magic straight from the god of darkness' ass and cast spells. Those damned witches are just as twisted as people carrying the Axil plague."
Fharess simply stared at him, she didn't care enough to respond.
And the captain stepped closer.
"So I'm going to ask ya one more time…" He pointed toward their ship. "Move your shitty plank of wood from my dock."
The crowd around them grew bigger.
In the Blacktide Confederacy, rival pirates did not settle disputes with paperwork or guards, the islands were built on an older tradition:
Duels.
If two crews had a problem, they fought until one side backed down or hit the ground. The Paladin Knights stationed across the ports rarely interfered with those fights. Their duty focused on something far more dangerous.
Axil.
If the plague ever appeared inside the Confederacy, the knights responded immediately. Pirates killing each other over dock space barely registered as a problem compared to an alien infection spreading through the population.
So the knights watched from a distance, and let pirates handle pirate problems. They had recently just moved their base over here due to the rise of Axil infected, this isn't their dedicated kingdom, but they made it theirs by force once the king of the confederacy was infected and they killed him. But none of the laws of the land changed.
Lodis moved nervously. "Do we really have to fight?"
Kappa laughed loudly. "Ha! Damn right we really have to! They're in our way! And they think because of how our ship looks that we're weak! Fuck them."
Behind her, Fharess lifted slightly off the ground.
Dark energy gathered around her boots, floating just a few inches off the stone under her.
"Finally," she said.
Lodis sighed softly, sh reached into her satchel and pulled out a small bundle of tightly rolled leaves wrapped in thin paper.
Godweed.
She lit it using a small flint lighter, bringing the flame to the tip before drawing a single breath of smoke.
The effect appeared immediately.
A smoky aura moved around her body as her eyes focused and the muscles along her arms tightened with sudden strength. The drug enhanced speed, strength, and senses, though the effects lasted only as long as the smoke continued flowing through the body. Pirates across the seas used it constantly, chasing permanent magical ability through repeated use of smoking, taking one drag was the safest and easiest for a temporary buff.
Lodis exhaled slowly.
With her other hand she drew a revolver.
The weapon gleamed beautifully in the sunlight, the frame carried polished brass plating along the barrel while deep blue steel formed the chamber. Elegant silver lines traced decorative patterns along the grip, and near the trigger guard someone had engraved a single name into the metal.
Lodis.
She raised the revolver calmly while smoke drifted around her face.
Across the dock, the large captain burst out laughing, and his crew drew weapons. Some ignited spells in their palms while others lifted axes and swords..
The fight was about to begin.