In the past five years of his life, Nick had become fairly adept at dealing with unwelcome surprises.

It still didn’t make them any easier to deal with.

He walked up the stairs, peeking along the edge of the deck.

Another ship drifted beside theirs, flanking them against the cliff. Close to a dozen men moved atop the other vessel, and he dipped his head down before they noticed him.

His mind raced as he walked down the stairs. Although, it didn’t sound like they were on friendly terms with the man they were after, he doubted they would be happy learning that he had met his demise by Nick’s hands. Which left negotiating off the table.

Fleeing wasn’t an option either. Besides his lack of experience in operating an airship of this size, he would need to unlock the wheel. Which sat on the deck, right in full view of his new guests. And even if he managed it, there was no guarantee he would outrun them.

“We know you’re holed up in there!” said the voice. “Best come out now!”

Nick tightened the grip on his sword. He had no choice but to-

“Trent’s in the shitter!”

The voice came from behind. He turned to see Ali with his hands cupped over his mouth; palms encased in smooth stone riveted with lines.

“Think he ate something bad at the camp. You’ll have to come get him if you want him!”

The voice which came out wasn’t Ali’s, yet it was familiar. Still, Nick was about to order the droids to shut him up when there was a reply back.

“Greaser you little weasel! You know you are right behind Trent on the chopping block. Boss knows you were half the brains behind this scheme!”

“Yea, sure!” said Ali. “Whatever his esteemed majesty wants!”

“I’d be careful with what you say! Captain Sylas is down below deck!”

“Captain now!? What are we the navy!?”

“I won’t stop you from hanging yourself with that mouth of yours. Anyhow, the lot of you are late to the party. We got some runners to round up!”

“I thought we was just moving merchandise?”

“Was. Before said merchandise managed to down one of the ships. They are all holed up in one of them ruins but we got ‘em cornered now. Boss wants all of us there to flush them out. Trent however… Heh, let’s say he’s got some explaining to do.”

Nick had enough at this point, and walked up to Ali, grabbing his hand.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” said Nick.

“Simple,” said Ali “Buying us time and getting some information. Guy I was talking to is Balus. Talks big but he’s all bark and no bite. I told you I know these people. Who they are and how they work. You were acting all silent so I figured I’d step in. We’re in this together now, aren’t we?”

Ali had a point there. So far nobody had let loose on them with cannon-fire or its equivalent. Nick let go of his hand.

“What else do you know of them?” said Nick.

“If Sylas is there, then he’s probably got a whole retinue of muggers on board. All equipped with bracers, muskets, and all sorts of other weapons. Sylas himself… well he is real mean with a rapier and can use wind and fire equally well.”

“You got a measure of their tiers?” asked Nick.

“Their what?” said Ali.

“No words!?” said Balus. “You all have to the count of ten till we whisk you all out!”

“Tiers,” said Nick. “From a range of one to six.”

“Oh. That’s what you lot call it. No idea, but all of them are single gem bracers. Sylas excluded.”

“Ten!”

Nick surveyed the droids. Two strikers, one tanker, a bunch of basic ones. He lost nearly twice the number of advanced units going up against just five of the pirates, and that was with surprise on their side.

“Nine!”

He realized he needed to make do with what he had. Time was too short to scrounge up anything else. Fighting was the only option now.

“Can you get them on board?” Nick asked. “Close the distance?”

“Eight!”

Ali nodded, and clasped his palms over his mouth.

“We won’t believe it till I actually hear it from the man himself!” Ali smirked. “Nothing against you personally Balus. Congratulations on moving up in life though, from bootlicker to mouthpiece!”

That last comment brought up a roar of laughter.

“That’s it! I’ll have you strung up for that! Come on lads. Get those miscreants!”

“I want weapons on everyone,” Nick said to Legatus One. “Get ready to fight.”

“Understood Mechanar.”

Every droid moved to pick up weapons from the piles brought on board. Nick picked up a spear laying on the ground, the same one Ali tossed away, and offered it back to him.

Ali took it, hefting himself up with it like a cane.

Nick could clearly see that he was not going to be of much use. Bloodshot eyes. Chapped lips. Haggard eyes. All the signs of starvation, dehydration, and mana exhaustion.

He could hear crossing planks clatter onto the deck above, followed by boots stomp over.

Nick needed every advantage he could get. If this man was to be an ally, he needed him in fighting shape.

He walked to one of the arsenals, pulled the top off a blue refinery cylinder, and grabbed a scoopful of the blue substance inside.

Refinery Energy: 234 -> 123

Nick turned back around to see Ali staring at him, his eyes widening at what he held in his hand.

“Is that?”

“Mana.” Nick walked over and offered it to him. “We have a deal.”

Ali scoffed then smiled.

“Very well,” he said, taking the pile off Nick’s hands and raised it high as if he was toasting a glass. Then gulped it down.

The impact was immediate. Ali closed his eyes, and his skin brightened. Ripples immersed the air around him. Nick took a cautious step back, hoping he made the right decision.

Ali’s eyes reopened, irises shifting from a dull brown to bright hazel. He let out a contented sigh, and stood straight and tall, his posture no longer showing the weakness from before. Brown light wisped around his left hand, shifting and burbling until it formed a stone fist.

He dropped the spear, then leaned down to pick up a curved blade from a pile on the ground. The same one Jirah had used.

“Spears aren’t exactly my style,” Ali said giving the weapon a few swings. “But we have a deal.”

Nick nodded and focused.

“Activating: Empowered Weapon.”

Violet light blazed through the sword. However, this time the outline stretched far wider and far past the physical metal of the blade itself, until it was almost as long as a spear.

Nick gingerly twisted the weapon. So that was what extended reach meant.

“Interesting.” Ali crouched down. “You’ll have to tell me how you do that later.”

A boot appeared in the stairway, followed by a man grumbling as he stepped down.

Ali dashed past Nick before he could react, propelled forward by twin pillars of rock jutting out under his shoes.

The newcomer stopped, his eyes zeroing in on the human-sized projectile veering towards him.

“Huh-?”

Ali pounced, driving the sword through his neck. The man’s remaining words warped into a gurgle, before the Ali pulled the blade free and kicked him.

By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Ali had already moved above deck, swinging his sword toward his next foe.

Evidently, he had underestimated this new ally of his.

“Shit!” someone said, followed by the shrill scrape of a sword being drawn. “It’s a trap!”

“Onto the deck!” said Nick.

Every droid in the hold clambered up the stairs, as the world above erupted in a storm of clashing steel and surprised yelps. Nick followed behind, sidestepping around the corpse.

By the time he reached the top, he saw at least eight men atop the ship, engaged in a fight against Ali. The droids rapidly moved towards them.

The closest man turned their heads in Nick’s direction, right as the mass of gray bodies swarmed over him.

“What the- ,” he said, swiveling to parry a sword-strike only to be struck by a spear. The weapon bounced off his shoulder in a yellow flash and he managed to stay upright just long enough for another droid to tackle him to the deck.

The noise distracted the rest of them, which gave Ali the opportunity to finish off another opponent. The battle devolved to chaos as the droids clashed into the attackers. Metal clashing against metal. Red, blue, and green colors flashed as bracers called elements into play. Nick charged forward.

Thunder crackled as the man who was tackled to the deck blasted the head of a droid apart with a point-black lightning strike from his hands. He pushed the headless torso off, getting on his knees, right as Nick’s sword swept toward him.

The violet sword struck skin. His aether-barrier flared yellow, then gave away as the blade sheared through his neck like scissors through paper. The man’s head fell away and his body seized up and fell to the floor. Joining the droid’s.

Nick pushed the sight to the back of his mind. His goal was to end this fight as quickly as possible, and if he needed to kill, then so be it. He turned to his next foe.

The wind-bracer cut a droid in half with a cutlass and finished it off with a blast of wind from his hands. Nick closed the distance and swung.

The man noticed his approached and bolted back, his movements sped up by gusts of wind, narrowly avoiding the violet edge of the blade.

Seeing Nick’s weapon go wide, his opponent charged back forward in retaliation. However, as the man approached time slowed. Nick blinked, as all the small things about his opponent came into view. Poor posture characterizing a lack of training. The wide and powerful, yet slow, swing of his cutlass. Eyes full of frenzy, indicative of a brawler who learned to fight without formal instruction. One who used brute force in lieu of technique. He could even see the swing of the cutlass and the tailwind guiding its flow like a painter brushing a line on fresh canvas.

Nick adjusted his stance, rearing his own sword back in a smooth straight motion. Faster than his opponent. The violet blade smashed into the flat of the cutlass.

He was surprised at how effortless it was, compared to all the previous times he fought. Always he had to overcome a lack of speed and strength with technique. And now he had the advantage in all three.

The recoil sent his opponent’s cutlass flying back, causing the man to fumble to the side. The man teetered to regain his footing, and in that precious moment, Nick drove the weapon forward.

Green light flashed as the blade cut through his opponent’s torso. The man hunched over, his eyes bulging down at the steel jutting out his chest. The wind dissipating.

Cold crept into Nick’s mind, but nowhere near the overwhelming numbness when he was in a droid body. He resisted the urge, and concentrated.

He pulled the weapon free, letting another corpse fall to the deck.

“Igni Sphera!”

The voice came from his left and Nick turned, to see another pirate raising a hand toward him. Fire belched out from his palm right as a bulky droid dashed between them. His vision cut off as the tanker raised its shield.

Fire and flames snarled and wisped sideways off the violet barrier. The green bar below the tanker’s name shrunk, flashing red.

The droid lowered its shield, and as the smoke cleared, he saw the man’s smug face shift to disbelief.

Disbelief moved to surprise, as a droid tackled into him, bringing him to the edge of the deck. Another droid charged in afterwards, the impact sending all three tumbling over the edge. The man’s screams muffled by the whir of the ship’s engines.

Nick noticed something odd in that encounter, as if hundreds of ants were crawling through his head. It was the individual threads, those phantom connections to the droids. They thrummed and vibrated as if communicating. The most active ones coming from behind him. Literally.

He glanced back to see Legatus One and another support droid standing by the stairs. Nick could feel their actions. Directing and coordinating movements. Ordering droids into combat. Maneuvering them to attack vulnerabilities and defend weaknesses.

A series of vibrations went out to a cluster of droids ahead. Nick turned around, to see a pack of droids corner two water-bracers. They stood with their backs hedged against the edge of the ship, swatting the horde back with water whips.

Then the men struck at the same time, leaving a moment where neither could strike. With the opportunity open, every droid surged forward.

The bracers raised their hands forward, and the whips vanished, replaced by a swirling bubble of water. The droids poked and prodded at the barrier; Their weapons unable to penetrate through the whirling current.

A strider strode forward, and plunged its spear ahead.

The violet emblazed weapon shot through the water-barrier as if it wasn’t there, punching through one of the bracers like a harpoon through a fish. The man gasped, screaming as his own blood swirled into the bubble, right before it collapsed into a puddle.

The remaining droids swarmed onto the other water-bracer, hacking him to pieces while the striker hefted the first man up, and tossed him over the edge of the ship.

And that was when Nick realized just what the support droids were meant to do. Unease and disquiet burbled up at the sheer ruthlessness and efficiency by which they dispatched their foes. Bringing back uncomfortable questions of just what they were designed for.

No other opponents were left on the deck. Nick turned to the deck of the other vessel, watching someone point a musket in his direction.

His feet moved before his mind did, carrying him to the left. A billowing fireball seared past where he stood, landing into the mob of droids he just looked at. It burst in an explosion, sending smoke, steam, and droid bits flying in all directions.

As Nick skidded against the ground, more bracers rushed onto the enemy ship’s deck. Two more musketeers aimed their weapons in his direction.

A brown blur slammed into them, causing the muskets to fire their spells up into the air. Ali finished off both men with a single slash of his sword, cutting through their necks.

“You.” Nick pointed to the tanker. “Follow me.”

And he ran forward to the enemy vessel.

Ali stretched his free arm out, a pillar of stone jutting out of his palm, slamming one man off the edge of the ship. Then, he moved across the deck, flipping and twisting over and beside opponents. Dodging, parrying, then following up with fatal strikes to their vitals.

Nick didn’t recognize the style of swordsmanship, then he realized it wasn’t one at all. Ali’s movements used a sword, but Nick could see they were made for a smaller weapon. Daggers. A weapon made for assassination.

By the time he got across, Ali had finished them all off. All save one.

A mustached man lay with his back against the deck, crawling away.

Ali caught up to him and with a stone arm, hefted him up by the scruff of his collar.

“Hello Balus.” Ali pricked the edge of his sword against the man’s neck. “Remember me? I do recall our conversation back a while ago. How did I put it… If I ever got out, I’d kill you last?”

“I-I remember! You did!”

“Good. Because I still have a fairly long list of people, I want dead, and if you want to stay at the bottom, you’d best answer my questions. Wooden case. Gold trim. Who was it handed off to?”

“I swear! I don’t know nothing!”

“I know you were there when they auctioned it off. Start talking now.”

“I don’t know nothing!”

“Every second you make me wait is another name you move above on the list. Tick-tock.”

“They handed it to the blood-fiends! Vampyrs! I don’t know anything else, but I saw it on their ship!”

“Now, Balus.” Ali brought the sword up to the man’s neck. “You must have a name at the very least? Vampyr doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”

“Yes!” The man’s eyes staring at the blade’s edge. “Civoly! The wench’s name is Civoly! That’s all I know!”

“Thank you,” said Ali, as he released his grip, letting the man fall to a heap.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” said Nick.

“Sorry.” Ali faced Nick. “Personal business.”

“Your personal business comes second,” said Nick. “You are helping me, not the other way around. That does not mean you get to act of your own accord, especially in situations like these.”

The following silence was dangerous. Nick was on full alert in case Ali would try something, but instead he let out a sigh.

“Very well.” Ali bowed. “My apologies. It had just been some time since I had the opportunity to let loose.”

Then he heard the plod of steps moving up the stairs, followed by the crash of a bottle breaking to pieces. The two of them turned to see Balus clamber up and run towards the newcomer.

“Captain!” said Balus. “Oh, thank the Divines. We have-ack!”

A skinny length of metal, shining in the sunlight, petered out from his back. Balus fell dead onto the floor, revealing the visage of the newcomer.

Nick recognized the blue Adrestan officer’s uniform immediately, after seeing enough diagrams off of Diderot’s memoirs of the peninsular wars. The gold trim was faded, and a rank was missing on the left shoulder. His red hair curled down to his shoulder, long beyond any military regulation.

“My… my…” the man in a thick accent. “What have we here?”

“Sylas,” said Ali, before turning to Nick. “Careful with him. Dual-elements. Wind and Fire.”

“An escaped sand-rat and… whoever you are.” The man toppled about, not one bit perturbed by everything around him. “Quite a mess of things you’ve made out here.”

Nick had seen the Earl in such a state enough times to recognize that this man was drunk.

“Surrender.” Nicked tipped his weapon toward him. “Unless you want to join the rest of your crew.”

“Crew?” the man scoffed. “These wretches hardly constitute a crew. Worth less than a used bandage. I’d say you did me a favor. If they couldn’t handle something as simple as you two, then… they are hardly deserving of my leadership.”

The man clearly wasn’t in his right mind, and judging by the state of his outfit, hadn’t been so in quite some time. He heard the Adrestan nobility hadn’t exactly fared well in the aftermath of the revolution which had rocked the country.

The man raised a finger, and a series of flames puckered into existence above him. Nick recognized it as a second-tier spell.

He braced himself, when the flames suddenly dissipated.

“Hm…” Sylas pulled his finger back. “Swordsmen are you two? Very well, let’s make this interesting.”

He whipped out a rapier, and into a narrow fighting stance. One foot forward, the other sideways. Knees bent.

“You face Maximillian Sylas, Vicomte of Sylesia, Peerage of great Adresta and by decree of the Divines, today you die by my hand.”

“Leave him to me,” said Ali.

“No.” Nick stepped around the tanker. “We take him together.”

Ali raised his eyebrows, but nodded.

“Very well then.”

“Follow my lead,” said Nick, then charged.

He had watched Valdric bout against a journeyman fencer years back. He recalled the style, and how the man fought, and how Valdric dealt with him.

Nick slashed sideways. The range of the sword forced Sylas to dash back instead of parry. Before he landed however, Ali dove toward him from above.

The man dodged sideways, rushing right into the tanker. He tried to knock the droid aside, but the attack bounced off its shield. Nick struck again, forcing the man to dash back to avoid the blow.

Fencing was a sword style that emphasized maneuverability and parrying an opponent before counterattacking. Effective against one foe, less so against multiple.

The series of acts repeated themselves, Sylas stuck on the defense, unable to be offered even a moment of breathing room. Every parry was followed by another attack from Nick, Ali, or the droids. He fought wildly even as he was hemmed in, left with less and less space to dodge.

Nick got the feeling the man wanted to die. As if his spirit had long since been broken by whatever happened in his past.

Sylas parried another spear-thrust, and side-stepped away from Nick’s sword-slash. However, he was out of space now and drifted right into Ali.

Who promptly smashed a stone fist into his sword-hand. Sylas dropped the rapier, and tumbled into a couple of barrels. The man grimaced in pain, and looked down at his crooked and smashed fingers.

Nick pointed the tip of the sword at his throat.

“Yield.”

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Ali nudged his head in Nick’s direction.

“I will never be held captive,” Sylas spat back. “Not by those damn rebels, and certainly not out here by you.”

Fire ballooned out of Sylas’ hands, aimed not at Nick but at the barrels. Under their lids, he could make out the gleam of ruby gempellets. His eyes widened.

“For King and Country!” Sylas yelled.

“Get away!” said Ali.

Nick dove back as the barrels bilged apart from the force of hundreds of fire spells. A deafening boom and a blinding light shot outwards in a wave, engulfing Sylas then shooting across the deck.

He continued running as the blast caught the tanker, whose violet barrier crackled apart under the wave of energy. The shield and the droid blew apart soon after.

Then the wave struck him. A searing sensation ruptured across his back, followed by a force flinging him forward. The blinding light overtaking his vision.

Then he crashed into something solid, and started to fall down.

Nick swiped a hand forward, gritting through the pain. The waves of energy swept past him.

As the smoke cleared and his legs dangled. He could see that he had gripped onto a shattered piece of the ship’s deck. Below him was the forest.

A face appeared over the edge.

“Here!” Ali offered Nick a hand.

Nick took it, and pulled himself back up to the deck of the ship.

“Told you to let me take care of him,” said Ali.

Nick didn’t reply, still dazed from the explosion. Ahead of him, he saw the explosion’s aftermath. The ship had nearly been torn in half, the majority of the deck gone, left with nothing but tattered shreds of wooden planks. What consisted of the hold was seared to ash. Items and belongings charred beyond recognition.

His eyes caught a battered door, in what appeared to be the cargo area. Cages littered the room beyond, and he caught sight of a mop of blonde hair. A set of golden eyes stared back at him.

“Ren?” he whispered.

The deck lurched, causing Nick to jolt, followed by a slow squeal.

“Hey!” Ali prodded his shoulder. “We need to go!”

Nick immediately recognized the sound of failing engines. He followed Ali in leaping across the gap between the two ships, landing on the deck of the intact vessel. Behind them, they heard the remnants of the other ship fall. Rustling into the trees of the forest below.

“Well, I guess that’s taken care of,” said Ali. “Shame we couldn’t get Sylas. You aren’t half bad at fighting. Not that I doubted you before. You did nab Trent and his goons after all.”

Nick didn’t reply, his mind was still on that face he saw in the hold. It couldn’t have been his brother; he knew he escaped Sevola before the raiders encircled the town. Or did he?

“Hey, you alright?”

“I’m fine,” said Nick. “I… just need to check something.”

He had to be sure, and moved to peer down at the wreckage.

Ali poked his head next to his. “If you are looking for salvage there probably won’t be much left.”

Then he heard a familiar shrieking sound in the trees. Forest arachnids. The trees shook as they approached, spindling their way towards the commotion. Attracted to the scent of blood.

Nick moved to action. He found a coil of rope and tied it along the edge of the deck.

“Forest arachnids?” said Ali. “Probably here to clean up the mess. Probably too risky now to go searching… Hey wait, where are you going!”

“I have to check something,” said Nick, tossing a rope over the edge, and shimmied his way down.