Pedro adjusted his glasses, looking once more at the die he was shaking in his hand. After a period of scrutiny, he cast it, and looked on at the result - two. He nodded in recognition, scratching his chin and asking, “So ‘tis the second in command I seek?” After that, he replaced the die under his jacket, and pulled out a set of cards, shuffling them before drawing the top, “And the tenth sword, as well? This proves more difficult with each omen.”

  The knight, who was heretofore too busy checking over her armor, asked, “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Divining.” He replied, offering nothing further as he grabbed his latest tool, a y-shaped stick that he claimed was a divining rod.

  “Alright, then,” She replied, turning to Ramona, “Are we all set?” She received a nod, “Let’s go.”

  —

  “Can I ask a question?” Federico asked, having exhausted one such question.

  Initially, Serpacinno simply tried to ignore the question, not really being in the mood for talking. However, as the silence dragged on, and he continuously kept his eyes on her, she relented, “Alright, what’s your question?”

  “Do you believe in his mission?” The heir asked, “Paracelsus’, I mean.”

  She stopped walking, and he soon copied her. The swordswoman stood there for a minute, deep in thought as the hustle and bustle of Castego passed her by. Eventually, she gave a grunt and responded, “I’m not entirely sure. I know I trust him, or at least, I think I do - but as for his mission,” She pondered for a few more moments before coming to a conclusion, “I can’t say. He says he doesn’t know what he wants to do once he gets the damn sword, but I can’t say I entirely believe it.”

  No more than a second after she had stopped speaking did a ring of water appear around her neck, strangling her and raising her into the air. Before any of the bystanders, or Federico, could react, she was pulled into a nearby alleyway by the obstruction around her neck.

  “What the -” Federico started. He found his mind slowly growing addled, along with the rest of the pedestrians. His eyes started glazing over, and his mouth started hanging open as he found his senses leaving him, and he wondered what he was doing there in the first place. Then, before whatever strange miasma filled the street could fully affect him, one of the vines on his arms squeezed tightly, dragging his consciousness to the surface.

  “Huh?” The heir looked around at all the individuals who were still in a fog, and then to the alleyway, and started towards it, “Put her -” He clutched his head; as soon as he raised his voice, his brain started receiving pain signals from everywhere in his body, and he fell to his knees with the racking agony.

  An idea quickly came to mind, and he commanded the vines under his shirt to wrap around his face. Slowly but surely, the pain dissipated to a more manageable, dull, aching sensation whereupon he rose to his feet. Immediately upon doing so, he saw his target - Pedro (although of course he had no idea who that was) and lashed out, ensnaring the pangolinman with his thorny vines.

  “Oh deary me,” The assassin said as he found himself being wrapped up, “This is getting rather bothersome.” With his left arm still somewhat moveable, he twisted his trident towards himself, and from the left tip, it spewed a jet of highly pressurized water with which he started to free the rest of his body.

  Not wasting a second, Federico used the vines that were still attached to his foe's body to draw himself closer, and with the momentum they afforded him, he tackled the magician and caused him to lose focus, both on holding Serpacinno, and on maintaining the pink mist he was using to affect their minds.

  “Th -” The swordswoman gasped for air, summoning the Shah for backup in case something similar happened again, “Thanks.” Then, she wiped the spittle from her mouth, and made a realization; the water that had been used to restrain her was still in the air, and the sunlight refracting through it resembled a rainbow.

  So, trepidatiously, she retrieved from her pouch the sword she’d won from Xenepol, and drew it. With no delay, she felt a great surge of energy rush from the rainbow to the sword, and then to her as its wielder. A faint pearlescent glow came upon her skin, and it felt as though she had the energy of a hundred men.

  “Leave, Federico.” She said. Her tone wasn’t angry, per se, but it was forceful and stern, leaving no room for argument.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Are you sure?” He asked, still engaged in the arms race of trying to find creative ways to hold Pedro down while Pedro tried to find creative ways of escaping his bindings.

  “I’m sure.” And as soon as Federico relented and used his vines to pull himself away, she dashed forward. To compare her speed to Sally would be selling the fencer short, assuredly, but to say that the snakewoman was far behind would be an insult to her. Regardless of the minutiae in comparing their speeds, Serpacinno dashed forward, avoiding the blasts of water sent her way. Each jet she scraped by gave her a surge of adrenaline, until she was just at the range of the trident itself.

  “That was a mistake, sending that man away.” Pedro said, holding the polearm at max range, noting that the ghost his opponent had summoned was still catching up to her, and he had around six or seven seconds to prepare for a multi-pronged attack, “In a tight space like this, it should prove itself plain that I possess the advantage, what with my long reach.”

  She didn’t respond to the magician’s strange way of speaking; her mind was working too fast, taking in and analyzing all the stimulation she got - the weight of her body on the cobblestones, the rush of air past her ears, and the tension in her legs as she jumped and braced herself against one of the walls before pushing off. Once everything had been sorted and categorized, she came down, launching at the assassin, an afterimage of prismatic light following a quarter-second behind her.

  —

  “You see them?” Paracelsus held a newspaper near his face.

  “Thirty degrees to your left.” Tariq whispered. A quick turn of the head, and the alchemist confirmed what his helmsman suspected. He finished his coffee, stood up, paid and left, keeping an eye over his shoulder to confirm they were still following a few hundred yards behind.

  Once they were less than a hundred yards from the water, “You see the one on the crow’s nest?” The knight asked, pointing upward to Gareland, “I’ve never seen a fairy - Maybe read about one, once.”

  “Come to think of it,” Ramona scratched her chin, “I don’t think I have either. Are they reputed for their eyesight, perhaps?”

  She awaited a response, but when none came, she whipped her head around and noticed the Cartesian had departed stealthily and swiftly, which she supposed was impressive, given their vocation, but nonetheless frustrating, given the delicacy of the situation. And it wasn’t as though she could fit in, she was wearing full metal armor when it was nearly ninety degrees and her wings were both darker and far larger than most angels’.

  She sighed as she mentally prepared herself - at least she had worked with Pedro a few times before, and was somewhat accustomed to his wandering proclivities, but regardless - the assassin placed her hands on her temple, closing her eyes and imaging the landscape in her mind. She felt the rough, splintery, and oaken surface of the mast, and her sense of touch climbed higher and higher until it crested the right angle, and hands sprouted up at the crow’s nest.

  “What?” Gareland exclaimed, watching the limbs grow from the wood and reach towards her. She hovered a bit higher, but the hands kept ascending with her. Eventually, she made the executive decision to start ringing the bell, before she fired off a shot, warning the approaching limbs of what was going to happen should they continue.

  When they didn’t stop, she slid the box down a peg, readying another shot and hearing something going down on the deck below. Then she noticed someone in a ridiculously impractical suit of armor flying around the ship, and before she could aim properly, the gangly limbs reappeared and seized her. With a grunt of frustration, she grabbed the sabre off her hip and dashed them. When she looked back, the airborne enemy was gone, and with her, Sally.

  Just a scant few moments before the fairy noticed what was amiss, said airborne foe was just now approaching the current from a low angle, kicking up dust and salt air as she did so. The four of the crew on deck were busy dealing with Aflorocoso, and thus none of them noticed as she glided down. Immediately, her eyes found one crewmate in particular, and she called out, “Sally!”

  “That voice.” The fencer said, whipping her head around. As soon as she saw the knight, she dropped her sword and her jaw with it, dialing in on her, and failing to remember the scuffle happening behind her. Then, as quickly as she lost her weapon, she picked it back up, and scowled, growling out, “Genevieve.”

  No sooner had she done this then had she dashed forward toward the angel, sword in hand. She tried to strike, jabbing thrice, but Genevieve was more experienced in battle, deflecting each blow with a slick spin of her scythe. Before anyone, save for the knight herself, knew it, Sally was being silently led away from the crew and isolated.

  Meanwhile, the three men on board, Paracelsus, Tariq, and Lonceré had each in their hands a mallet, courtesy of the alchemist, and were currently circling around the rocky golem. It wasn’t challenging to dodge any of the stony’s beast numerous swings and slams, but it was damaging the deck in the meantime, and any attempt at retaliation posed a rather unjustifiable risk of blunt force trauma.

  “It’s probably something similar to -” Paracelsus said, ducking under a massive rocky swing that absolutely cleaved Lonceré’s double in two, “The ghost that Serpacinno summons! That means -” Another jump, and another double down, “The summoner must be nearby!”

  “That’s nice -” Tariq gasped, feeling his shield start to buckle under the force of the geological foe’s blows “But who’s going to get them?”

  “Sally!” The Captain shouted, looking behind him, “Sally?”

  His temporary lapse in judgement ensured he took a blow to the ribs, knocking him down over the gunwales, with likely a few broken bones. When the fencer was nowhere to be seen, he made the executive decision to search for her. He had known her long enough, at this point, to notice the specific way dust was kicked up in the wake of her speed, and was thus able to follow the disturbed sediment to her location.

  With fewer targets to focus on, Aflorocoso doubled down on the helmsman, and Tariq found himself lying on the deck, desperately trying to defend against the attacks. His shield was getting dented with each successive strike, but at least with the beast’s attention on him, the cook was able to use the strength of both himself and his double to wallop upon the golem with two mallets at once.

  “Get up!” He shouted, trying to draw the creature’s attention. The strangest thing was that, even when they did manage to strike it, it barely reacted as its rocky flesh was sloughed off. And furthermore, it seemed to only grow more agile and strong as this happened.

  At last, Gareland had disentangled herself from the mess of limbs restricting her up top and come down. She looked around at the prickled deck, confused at its emptiness, “Where is everyone?”

  “I think Parace went to find Sally.” The cook said, artfully dodging around another club-like swing, though the foe’s newfound speed meant he was getting grazed and nicked, “But you have to find whoever’s controlling this thing!”

  “Got it!” She replied, readying herself for a search.