After their bath, Lucas and his father made their way to the small room that they would share tonight. In it was a set of twin beds, a closet, and, sitting on a fold out table in the corner, a covered dish from which a savory odor wafted. Lucas’ mouth started watering as soon as he came into the room. His early lunch of bread and ham was a distant memory, and his stomach was reminding him of that fact.

“There’s still a few hours of daylight left,” Stan said after they had finished the meal in record time. “I need to go handle some business. Do you want to come with me or stay here in the inn?” Stan had no doubt what Lucas’ answer was going to be. What curious six year old would turn down an opportunity to explore?

“I think I’ll stay here, dad,” Lucas responded. This shocked Stan so much that he just sat and stared at his son with his mouth open. “I don’t really feel like walking. I think I might lay down and sleep early. Is it okay if I go play with the other kids near the well in the morning?” he asked.

“That’s fine, son,” replied Stan. “Well, stay in the room, don’t get into any trouble, and I’ll be back in a little bit. If you really need anything, let Blake or Helga know.” With that said, Stan got up and left as quickly as he could. He wanted to handle the business with the core quickly, arrange for someone to come look at the hide, and get his order in for supplies so that they could be loaded up fairly early tomorrow.

Lucas stood and stretched then quickly undressed for bed. His head had barely touched the pillow when sleep claimed him. Unlike many children, Lucas always looked forward to sleep because with sleep came dreams. As far back as Lucas could remember, he had experienced the occasional dream that was as vivid as real life, but over the past year they had been more and more frequent. Lucas never had any trouble remembering these dreams.

Lucas found himself in an unfamiliar ship’s cabin. Since these particularly realisitic dream had started, he had begun each dream on the deck of the ship. Hanging from the ceiling was a shaded lantern on a chain, swaying side to side with the rhythm of the ship. The steady squeak of the chain was a reassuring metronome. There were hooks that would secure the lantern during bad weather, but Lucas had never seen how that was done. Lucas didn’t control the body he was in. Lucas was an observer only in these dreams, albeit one who felt pain and pleasure along with his host. Lucas knew this was a dream, and he knew that nothing bad would really happen to him, no matter how violent the dream got.

After a few moments where the body he was riding in appeared to be staring at the ceiling doing nothing, there was the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway followed by a loud knock. His host let out a sigh, stood, and yelled out, “Enter.”

“Cap’n Lucasi, sir,” said the skinny, one eyed man who entered. There was no fancy eye patch covering the hole in the man’s eye, there was simply a gaping hole covered in scar tissue where the orb used to lay. “The caravel’ll be in range in a bit over n’ hour, sir.”

“Thank you,” replied Lucasi. “I’ll be up in a moment. Have the bard start a jaunty tune, soon we’ll have this quest complete and we’ll be able to spend some well deserved leisure time in Port Rodgers.”

The one eyed man gave an evil, gap toothed grin before spinning around and slamming the door in his haste to get up the stairs and share the good news. Lucasi waited a moment before walking over to the vanity.

Lucasi unlatched the case to a small mirror mounted to the cabin wall and stared at himself in the perfect reflection. Lucasi had thick, black, curly hair that extended to his shoulder in ringlets. His mustache was just as black with a sharply pointed goatee on his chin. Everything about Lucasi screamed villain. “I’ve done this so many times throughout the ages, yet it still feels just as odd now as I remember it being the first time,” Lucasi said, apparently to himself, while staring in the mirror. To Lucas’ point of view, it seemed as if Lucasi was talking directly to him.

“Sometime today I’m going to catch up to the little caravel that I’ve been chasing since last night. On board is the [High Priest] of Thresh, one of the younger gods. Right now, you are conflicted because you had to take a life. This lifetime was actually the first time I had to kill a man before I had access to the system and many of our memories. Like you, I’d only had a few dreams to guide me. I had to learn the hard way that morality isn’t black and white. Good and evil are often times based on your perspective. That priest thinks of himself as good. The people on board that ship think themselves beset by evil pirates that are coming to take their lives as they attempt to escort a holy man to safety. They’re right. I’m an evil pirate.” The perspective changed as Lucasi moved to get dressed. He put on his overcoat and a pair of calf length leather boots. From a peg next to his bed he pulled down a beautifully tooled leather harness with a gold and silver handled rapier poking out of the sheath.

“From my perspective, I’m enforcing justice on a group of religious fanatics who have been responsible for the deaths of thousands of people this year. They burned down a small pirate haven and killed men, women, and children whose only crime was that they lived in a city that also housed a pirate clan. As you have no doubt seen in your dreams, many of the followers of the younger gods have performed similar atrocities in the names of their deity. From the point of view of the council who offered the bounty on this caravel, I’m a good man. And they’re also right.

“Most of what I’ll teach you is sailing and fighting. Those are important things for you, for us, to know in order to complete our great quest. But what I want you to remember, now that you have the [Manslayer] title, is that you have to defend what’s yours, make your own way, and never let someone else determine what good and evil mean to you. No title can define you. You determine your own morality and as long as you stay true to yourself, nothing, not even the gods, can sway you from your path.

“Finally,” he said as he stepped across the cabin towards the door. “strength will be your compass. The world is harsh and the strong make the rules. You got your title because you were stronger than your opponent. If you want to make your own rules, follow your own code, then you have to be strong enough to do so.”

There was a moment of blackness as Lucasi exited the door and suddenly Lucas was looking out over the bow of the ship. Standing out majestically at the prow of the ship was a familiar figurehead. Almost all of Lucas’ dreams about the pirate had started with a view similar to this. The earlier message from the pirate was the first time anybody had spoken to him through the dream. The intricately carved hound’s head cut through the waves seemingly towing the ship after it in pursuit of its prey. Salt spray splashed the deck and the wind filled the sails as the pirate ship drew inexorably closer to the smaller caravel. It was a beautiful day and the crystal clear waters of the Myriad Sea showed the reef that the caravel was heading towards with particular clarity.

“Mr. Smee,” he yelled out, “I thought I said I wanted a jaunty tune.”

The skinny pirate from earlier ran up the steps to the bridge. As he came into view of Lucasi, he called out, “Sorry cap’n, that sorry sack a’ shit is still asleep. You want me to cane him?” There was a glint of pure joyful malice in the man’s eye as he mentioned caning the poor bard.

“No, Mr. Smee, that won’t be necessary. Send one of the cabin boys down with this message for me, ‘play or swim’. If he’s not up here in one turn of the glass, then let him sleep until he is well rested, give him a full meal from the galley, and toss him overboard, and we’ll get a new [Bard] in Port Royale after we send these Threshites to meet their god.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” replied Mr. Smee. There was a quick nod of his head and the young man standing quietly in the corner ran down the steps from the raised bridge to the deck below and then down into the crew quarters. “You think he’ll make the eye?” asked the one eyed man.

“No, Mr. Smee, I don’t,” said Lucasi. “Even if he did, I think he overestimates the difference in our drafts. My ship may be three times his size, but I only draw maybe one meter more water. Threading the needle in that particular reef isn’t out of the question for The Sinner.”

The two ships drew closer together as the minutes passed by. Within ten minutes of the captain’s arrival on deck an upbeat tune seemed to wash over the ship. The crew didn’t pause in what they were doing but their actions became swifter and more precise. The ship itself seemed to respond to the [Bard]’s music as it crashed through the waves with a noticeable increase in speed.

“Well, Mr. Smee, it looks like we won’t be needing a new [Bard],” said Lucasi.

Mr. Smee didn’t say anything, but he was clearly disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to toss the poor musician overboard later in the day.

“We’ll be in the red range of the long gun in about five minutes, cap’n. You want us to try to put a few rounds through their sails?” asked Mr. Smee.

“That sounds like an excellent idea Mr. Smee. Tell Mr. Bridger that if he can put a round through the mainsail before he gets in the green that I’ll pay for him to stay a week at his whorehouse of choice.”

“Aye, sir,” replied Mr. Smee. He ran down the stairs and below decks. A few moments later there was an audible shout of excitement and the sound of one of the long guns being moved into position and in place at the starboard side bow gun port. A few moments later a second long gun was in place on port side. With a shrill whistle the first gun, sticking out of the bow just one meter from the figurehead on the starboard side, discharged its deadly payload. The magically enhanced iron ball flew through the air. The [Gunner], Mr. Bridger, used his strong wind affinity to help guide the projectiles to their target at just under the speed of sound. There was a massive splash as the shot hit the water past their target.

Almost as soon as the first weapon fired the helmsman could be seen listening to a small device mounted next to the helm and then shifting the ship several degrees starboard. A second shot rang out. The captain pulled out a small distance viewer and looked through it at the ship that they were pursuing. Through the viewer, the distance to the ship was calculated and a number appeared next to the ship in red. The number was slowly dropping as the pirate ship came closer and closer to its target. The firing pattern repeated itself twice more, with the gunner calling for a minor course correction to allow both guns the best angle before the [Gunner] struck true and the center lateen sail on the caravel began to tilt. A few moments later the sail was dragging in the water behind the smaller caravel as the crew worked furiously to cut it free from the rigging. The small ship’s speed had dropped to a fraction of what it was, and its fate seemed sealed.

With a murderous grin Captain Lucasi Macelatto turned to his first mate and said, “Have the boarding team ready. Relay my regards to Mr. Bridger, that was a damn fine shot. Inquire as to whether he received an achievement for that. It’s time to finish this.”