As he set foot onto the wooden deck of the Wind’s Fortune, Cristin fell against the center mast, exhausted. Pulling down his mask and hood, he looked around the deck at the small crew that had remained on board while at port. Most were going about their business, some simply idly enjoying a drink. However, he did notice Renea staring at him with an expression of bewilderment from the forecastle. Cristin gave this no thought though, as his mind was far too occupied.

He felt many things about what had happened: terror, fury, befuddlement. Most of all, however, he felt guilt. He had been in a perfect position to save that person. Had he simply called attention to the group, they likely would have abandoned their quarry. However, he had allowed his curiosity to get in the way, and someone else had paid the price. Putting his hands to his face, he fuitely attempted to push the image of their corpse out of his mind.

About fifteen minutes after he had come aboard, still slumped against the mast, Cristin noticed the now alarming sight of Porter and the other four members of the crew that seemed to follow him. They all seemed to be in good spirits, with Porter apparently having just made some kind of joke. As they came aboard, Cristin couldn’t help but glare at them through the hair that had draped across his face. They, however, paid him no mind, and walked below the upper deck.

Cristin was unsure of what to do. Should he confront Porter about what he knew? Would Porter then do to him what he had done to that person? Should he tell one of the officers? What are the odds that they even believe him? After all, Porter seemed to be exceptionally popular throughout the crew, including the officers. Realizing the futility of this kind of thinking, he stood with a groan, realizing that between expunging the contents of his stomach and sprinting for five minutes straight, he was feeling quite lightheaded.

While he was afraid of Porter’s group, he figured that they would not do anything while aboard the ship, and made his way down to the bottom deck. As he did so, he passed by the five, who were sitting in the middle deck and playing some kind of card game. Upon reaching his cot, he allowed his body to fall limp and soon found himself asleep, his dreams plagued by the person’s corpse.

Cristin woke out of one of these dreams with a start. Despite the poor quality of his sleep, he did now feel more focused. Looking around the lower deck, he realized that not much time had yet passed, as he was still one of the few people around. Climbing out of his cot, he made his way upstairs, headed towards the galley, intending to address the twinge in his stomach. Porter’s group was no longer in the middle deck, something that served as some solace for Cristin. Upon reaching the upper deck, he saw that the navel had now passed its zenith, indicating that he had been asleep for about an hour and a half, before making his way into the galley.

Inside, he saw a handful of individuals sitting across various tables, as well as Amber— the ship's cook—working behind the counter. Near the corner of the galley was Luc, sitting alone while looking over a piece of parchment. Cristin moved over to the table at which he sat, causing Luc to look up from the parchment, before rolling it into a leather case and giving Cristin a friendly smile.

“Ah, Cristin. Do you need something?”

Cristin took a seat across from him, allowing his coat to drape over the wooden bench. “You seemed pretty talented at getting a bead on someone, yeah?”

Mail gave a light chuckle in response, “I suppose compared to most others, yes.”

Cristin leaned forward, lowering the tone of his voice. “What do you think of that Porter guy?”

At this, Luc raised his right eyebrow before looking towards the ceiling, clearly pondering Cristin’s question. “Porter huh? Hm… if I had to say anything, I would say he thrives off of the attention of others. Seems to generally care about those around him. Why?”

Cristin looked to the side, frustrated. He had been hoping that Luc would have harbored at least some suspicions of Porter, but it seemed like he too was unable to see through the friendly persona. “No reason,” Cristin replied. “I was just hoping to see what made him so popular.” At this Cristin began to stand from his seat, but was stopped as Luc’s large right hand tugged against his arm. Turning around, he saw that Luc was looking towards him with a far more serious expression.

“If you’re going to lie to me, I won’t be able to help you out, Cristin.”

Cristin pulled his hand back and turned his back towards Luc. “I know.”

Pushing open the door of the galley with perhaps an unnecessary amount of force, Cristin walked back onto the upper deck, deciding that he would instead find something to eat on land. As he hopped down from the boat onto the docks, Cristin began to walk towards the tavern he had visited a few hours ago.

Stepping into the Twin’s Spigot, Cristin once again moved to the bar, looking towards the table at which Porter’s group once sat. As he sat, the bartender—the same one that had served Cristin previously—turned towards him with a brief nod of acknowledgment before speaking.

“Oi, Henry, that kid I was telling you about is here.”

Cristin jolted in his seat slightly; he had completely forgotten about that. Regardless, he was here now, might as well get the information. Looking at the individual the bartender had called out to, he saw a middle aged man with brown hair. He had stood from his table and was now walking over to the stool next to Cristin. Sitting down, he gave Cristin a friendly smile and stuck out a hand.

“Henry Gale.”

“Cristin.”

Henry nodded, “So Cristin, which ship do you sail with?”

Cristin raised an eyebrow, looking up and down this near-stranger. To Cristin, he seemed quite shady, but not any more so than many of the individuals aboard the ship. Looking away from the man and resting his chin on his hands, Cristin responded.

“The Wind’s Fortune.”

Henry’s expression warmed further upon hearing the name. “Ah, that’s quite promising then!”

Without turning back to the individual, Cristin replied, “Why’s that?”

“Well,” Henry began. “You’ve all built up a pretty decent reputation among my circles, tend to actually finish the jobs you pursue.”

This was all news to Cristin. He had seen the crew to be quite efficient over the past week, but apparently they were more capable than he had thought.

“Alright then, you know what ship I serve. Care to share the information I want?”

Henry clutched his chin, considering Cristin’s question. “You know, I’m in a good mood. Buy me a drink and I can tell you about an opportunity that should pique your interest.”

Cristin turned a puzzled gaze towards Henry, “Just a drink?”

“Just a drink.”

Cristin shrugged, “Alright then.” Pulling out his coin purse, Cristin retrieved five bronze coins and slid them towards the bartender.

The bartender snatched up the coins, pouring a glass of an amber brown fluid into a glass and placing it in front of Henry. Henry grabbed the glass, downing half of it before letting out a satisfied sigh and turning back to Cristin.

“There’s an island, about three days south of here, not on any maps.” Henry said, in a calm tone.

In response, Cristin retrieved a small notebook from within his coat and began writing.

“Reportedly, some pirate vessel— called the Deviant’s Bounty or somethin’ like that— sent near-half their crew ashore that island about four weeks prior, looking for some kinda loot on land.”

Henry paused, allowing Cristin some time to write the details while he took another sip from his glass.

Placing the glass back onto the counter, Henry continued, “None of them made it back to the boat.”

Cristin stopped writing, looking towards Henry before he continued.

“With half of the crew gone, the ship barely managed to get back to safety to share this rumor.” Taking yet another swig of his drink, Henry turned his gaze back towards Cristin. “That’s how the story goes, friend.”

Cristin looked over his notepad, before sticking it into his cloak. “Well, I guess if that’s all the information you have, it will suffice.” As he said this, Cristin felt his stomach rumble, reminding him why he had come here in the first place.

Moving his attention away from Henry, Cristin addressed the bartender. “Cheapest meal you have please.”

The bartender nodded, shouting something behind him into the kitchen. As Cristin ordered his food, Henry stood. “Welp, I’m gonna head back to my lonely table. Don’t die out there, kid.”

Without looking in his direction, Cristin responded. “That’s the goal.”

Soon after, Cristin received his meal, a plate consisting of some kind of roasted white fish served alongside a piece of stale bread. This meal, while quite paltry, served as an excellent remedy for his hunger.

Upon finishing and paying for the meal, Cristin thanked the bartender before leaving the tavern and making his way back to the Wind’s Fortune.