The next day, I locked eyes with Bodrin as he walked the gangplank to his new home with a large stone gripped in his scarred and calloused hands. I gave him a half nod. There wasn’t any meaning or hidden signal in the gesture. It was just an acknowledgment that we had some unspoken connection. Bodrin may have taken it as a promise that I would return for him, or maybe he was pragmatic enough to take it as a promise that I would remember him. Either way, I left on the sea cow while he stayed on the penal colony.

I had convinced myself that there was nothing I could do. I was just one man after all. I wasn’t about to take on a military outpost solo. While I have an ego, I’m not crazy enough to think I could pull off something worthy of a Rambo sequel.

Even with all my reasons to ignore Bodrin’s plight, I kept finding myself working on the problem in idle moments. At the island, my eyes drank up every detail. The tower under construction was nearly three stories tall now and the single doorway at the base was already fitted with a reinforced timber door. The guards were armed with whips and clubs. I only saw one with anything more dangerous. Some sort of captain wore a steel helmet sprouting with flamboyant red plumage. A matching red cape nearly covered up the scabbard at his waist. His breastplate and helmet were the only bits of armor on the island from what I could see.

The slaves were kept in what amounted to a hollow in the rocky island with a tarp stretched overhead. A wooden longhouse with a chimney spewing smoke at each end was the only other structure on the island and I assumed that was where the guards slept.

The slaves themselves all wore chains on their ankles which limited their movements to a noisy shuffle. There were a lot of them though, at least five for each guard from what I could see. Despite their numbers, the guards could probably quell any riot with ease given how emaciated their prisoners were.

On our way back towards Navarone, my mind kept turning over different strategies. The advantages were slim. If I could get the slaves freed and fed, they could simply overrun the guards. That left the issue of being stuck on an island in enemy territory. We’d also need to finish the battle without burning down anything important so we can pretend everything is running normally until another ship comes in and we can take it.

What am I thinking? Am I really okay with becoming a pirate and an outlaw? Even if I don’t think the laws are just, it will be a lot easier to change the system from the inside than it will be to burn it from the outside. Why would I risk myself for Bodrin anyways? I don’t owe him anything.

Just thinking about the task set out before me was enough to bring up the quest prompt again. It was one thing to write off the other slaves I’d crossed paths with. It was easy to tell myself that it wasn’t my problem. I should just keep my head down and finish my contract so I can get on with my adventure in another world. Those old excuses fell flat when faced with the words “Bodrin will die.”

Right there, floating in front of me, a message from the gods was telling me that if I don’t do anything, this decent man will die. Despite every logical argument that told me it was a bad idea, the quest was personal now. I couldn’t let Bodrin die and then go on to become a hero. I’d just be playing a game, there would be no heroics, not really. It would all be a thin veneer laid over a rotten core of self-gratification. In the end, I told myself that there can be no heroics without sacrifice and committed myself fully to the path my subconscious was already nudging me towards.

At the slave plantations, I traded directly with the masters of the estates for the first time. I hadn’t forgotten the soldiers who were caught with black market rum and didn’t want the same to happen to the slaves when they suddenly had new clothing. It took a little convincing to get Duncan to let me join him but once I revealed my fancy clothes and rings he accepted that I wouldn’t embarrass him.

I presented the farmer's sets to the owners as tokens of good-will and a sample of goods. I only charged what it cost for me to purchase them, passing along Finnegan’s generous discount. I made sure to emphasize that point to the masters too. Duncan seemed approving of this tactic and the Masters were universally appreciative. After the gifts, which I was sure would still end up going to the slaves, I pulled out the charisma rings.

For the first time, my “Silver Tongue” ability kicked in. It felt like I was channeling some snake-oil salesman as I wove an elaborate story about the origin of each ring and how it was destined to make it to this particular customer. Despite my expectation that they would be evil, money-grubbing caricatures, the masters struck me as warm genial people. They were happy for an opportunity to get one of the coveted items without placing a costly special order.

It helped that Armandra had taken every opportunity to brag about her locally unique treasure. Every master wanted the popular new gift for their wives. Most plantation owners were pretty well off so social currency was much more important to them. These rings suddenly held a lot of value in their social arena and I made off like a bandit. My four charisma rings went for 48 silver coins. I had to rush but I also managed to visit the slaves and trade sandals on each island for fresh fruit.

Even if my plan to free Bodrin fell flat, at least I could say that I made a handful of lives better. When I met them, these slaves had poorly cared for tools and old sacks for clothing. Now, they had sharpened axes and machetes, footwear and a handful of hats. Hopefully, some real clothing would come their way soon and make their work a bit easier with its stat buffs too.

Back in Navarone, I wasted no time in selling off my fruit. I told Tarron that it might be a while before I came back with another shipment but that didn’t stop him from loading me down with mutton pies. Armed with more hard coin than I ever held before, I visited Barnaby & Finch’s Oddments Emporium.

I waited awkwardly near the entrance and called for the owners. After Finch appeared he led me through the maze-like shop to a workbench chattering all the way.

“It was an odd request so I had a little trouble adjusting the power levels but I ended up with a wand that will last much longer than normal. It won’t kill anything mind you, just lock up its muscles for a few seconds at a time.” He yammered as he proffered a wand with a glint of yellow topaz at its end. He also handed me a garnet wand of sparks without comment.

“I think you’re really going to like how your special piece turned out.” He said as he lifted a curved silver band from the table. It made nearly three-quarters of a complete circle and its center dipped downwards in a graceful “V” shape. Its lowest point was set with a dark blue stone. I couldn’t help but compare it to Sailor Moon’s magical Tiara and once the thought was in my head, I couldn’t dislodge it. Thankfully, close inspection revealed it was something a little different.

---

Lapis Circlet of Flowing Thought

Increases concentration

---

“It’s pretty,” I admitted, “But what am I supposed to do with it?”

“Have you started practicing the basics of mana manipulation yet?” asked Finch

“Yeah...” I said hesitantly. It was one thing to wear a ring. Most of the sailors had rings on their fingers or ears. It was an easy and safe way to hold on to valuables. This thing was way too ostentatious to pass under the radar though. It was barely one step away from a crown for crying out loud!

“Well why don’t you try it on and then you can tell me what you can do with it.”

Mr Finch produced a dusty mirror from a nearby pile of merchandise and held it up as I lowered the tiara, I mean circlet over my head. The large central stone rested on my brow between and a little above my eyes. Another two shaped like teardrops hung from short chains to rest on my temples. I immediately felt a cool, soothing sensation. It was like a headache I had lived with my whole life finally lifted and I could think clearly for the first time. It came with the shock and invigoration of diving into freezing water without any of the discomfort.

“Woah” was all I could say.

“Woah indeed” Finch agreed, smiling widely at my reaction.

“Try and manifest some of your mana.” He suggested

I placed my palms together and instead of the laborious process of pulling mana out of my hands, I just let go. Mana flowed into the space between my hands, filling the air. With a small mental flexing, I condensed it into a single shining point of light. The process only took a handful of seconds. Struck with inspiration, I allowed more mana into the space between my hands. This time, I wrapped it around the spark while imagining that it hardened into an eggshell before thrusting it away from me. The spark darted away for a meter before dissipating with a satisfying snap.

“Excellent! Bravo!” Finnegan applauded me. I just took what I learned from the force wand and tried to copy it. It didn’t take much study to discover that the final rune in the wand takes half of the mana supplied to it and forms a shell around the raw force made from the remainder of the mana. Still, I couldn’t keep from smiling.

“This is awesome! I just cast a magic missile!” After I managed to stop exalting in my improved abilities I remembered who was responsible for this change. I snatched up one of Finch’s bony hands and shook it vigorously.

“Thank you Mr Finch! I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

The exuberant artificer blushed and began to stammer, pulling his hand away.

“I-it’s no-nothing special. Just takes a bit of time is all.”

Finch was rubbing at the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the praise so I steered us back to more familiar waters.

“You’ve done a great job but I’m going to need more help preparing for a special project. I have plenty of funds and a wish list but I’m not sure if you have a lot of what I need.”

“Oh? A challenge then! What kind of project are we talking about here?”

“I'm setting out on a heroic and foolhardy mission!" I declared with a smile before adding "It’s probably best if you know as little as possible but I’m going to need some specialized gear.”

“Oh ho! What kind of specialized gear?” Now Finch was back to his usual exuberant self.

We went over my wishlist and I turned over most of the uncut gems and silver I had collected in return for an assortment of goods. I bought a Nautical chart, the mariner's equivalent of a map complete with the shoreline, dangerous shallows, reefs, prevailing winds, and currents. I also picked up a bit of waxed canvas, and my very own sextant, as well as four crossbows with a quiver of a dozen bolts each. I also left him with my three Sea Lion quills and the instructions to turn two of them into shivs and the last into as many poisonous crossbow bolts as he could. I expected the trickiest item to be something to unlock or cut the manacles but it turned out that mass-produced chains had simple locking mechanisms. A handful of skeleton keys should leave me with one that will fit the chains I come up against. There were benefits to dealing with merchants with criminal ties I suppose.

Unwilling to rely on an ‘it should work’ when my freedom is on the line, I visited Earnest and asked him to whip up an item for me. Something that could make a small area very cold in a short time. I could tell that the unusual request had his interest but I had to throw in a couple of uncut gems to get him to rush my order.