“‘Ware, Captain!” Patrick said, as another door guard showed in four more men. “We have company.”

Two of the men were dressed in mulberry-purple breeches and waistcoats made of some velvety material. They both wore brown leather boots and a belt that held short, cross-hilted cutlasses. The taller of the two sported a gold earring, dark mustache with curly waxed tips, and a wide-brimmed, flat topped black hat.

The man’s chestnut brown, weather-beaten face seemed set into a permanent sneer. His eyes were the color and hardness of obsidian. Those eyes slid suspiciously between Caleb and the other party that had just arrived.

Amazing, Caleb thought. I’ve encountered kings, eldritch knights, warlocks, even the undead…and I think that’s the first-ever legitimate pirate captain I’ve seen in Avalon!

But the remaining two men who stood on the pirate captain’s far side made Caleb start to sweat. Their outfits matched those of his crew: the close-trimmed dark blue uniforms of the Myrkur’s naval arm. Each man carried a gleaming Sea Vipers’ cutlass at his side.

Neither man wore a hat. Yet the clothes of the one in front bore the same silver trim as Caleb’s jacket, marking him as a Komtur. He had a thick black goatee and Roman nose. He scowled as spoke to the pirate Captain who stood between him and Caleb.

“I’m surprised to see you again, Wickam,” he snarled. “You’re going to run out of lives soon. Pirate scum like you won’t be around for much longer.”

“You death-cultists think you own the waves,” Wickam replied smoothly, with a flowery gesture of dismissal. “One of these days you’re going to get a sharp lesson to show you otherwise.”

“There’s already a new power on the rise. If we don’t crush you, it will.”

“Arrogant as well as foolish,” Wickam shook his head. “I only hope to live long enough to see Myr’s banners dragged in the dirt, Adamos.”

The Komtur turned his gaze on Caleb. His scowl grew even deeper, if that were possible.

“You! I know you, don’t I?”

Inside, Caleb winced.

Dammit! My luck’s really out if I run into both a Harbormaster and a Komtur who’s supposed to know everyone in these waters.

“You might,” he said, carefully avoiding the man’s eyes. “But it’s unlikely. I’ve just been promoted–”

“Yes, yes,” Komtur Adamos said, brushing aside Caleb’s words. “I heard the story from Harbormaster Finnobarr. Very sad. I didn’t know that Quaril Gortak had a nephew, but that’s not what surprises me.”

“It’s not?”

“No. It’s that we’ve met before.”

“I, ah, think you’re mistaken.”

Yet even as Caleb spoke, he knew that the Komtur was correct. He did look slightly familiar to Caleb. Even his name rang a bell.

Come on! Caleb chided himself. Think! Where do you know this man from?

“No, I’m not mistaken,” Adamos insisted, as he absently rubbed his goatee. “It’s the way my memory works. I never forget a face.”

“How ironic,” Wickam observed. “I wish I could forget your face.”

Caleb decided he had to take a risk. If he didn’t know this man from Avalon, perhaps he knew him from his prior life? He looked up and met Komtur Adamos’ eyes.

Nothing happened. No data popped up.

What the heck? Is my Outer Sight still on?

A discrete flick of his hand, and he quickly pulled up the screen he wanted at the left of his vision. Below the trio of horizontal bars marking his Health, Stamina, and Magical Energy hung a smaller window that he’d never looked at since leaving Irongrasp.

The window contained the following pairs of words.

Look Outward / Look Inward

Caleb considered. I’ve been meaning to see if I can select things without moving my hands, he thought. Now’s as good a time as any to try it out.

He stared hard at Look Outward and blinked. The screen expanded with a ripple and displayed a new set of words.

AUTOMATIC SIGHT CURRENTLY ACTIVATED.

TURN OFF AUTOMATIC SIGHT? (YES / NO)

Caleb glanced at the NO and blinked. The screen vanished. Then the obvious hit him.

Komtur Adamos hadn’t been reincarnated from his world. Like Komtur Ozul or Captain Campion, he’d been born a native Avalonian. But that brought it back to the same question that still nagged him: Why did the man’s face and name still sound familiar?

“Captain,” Sienna nudged him, nodding towards where the door guards crossed to their left. “Something’s happening.”

The door guards approached a gigantic, man-sized gong that hung from chains embedded in the ceiling. One picked up a metallic striker, while the other stood and faced the room. A swing, and the thunder of the gong rattled through the open space.

“Governor,” the guard intoned, “The day’s visitors have arrived! Komtur Gortak of the Myrkur, Komtur Adamos of the Myrkur, and Captain Wickam of the Seaborne Raiders.”

An answering gong came from within an adjoining room. A door at the rear of the raised platform opened. A woman emerged, flanked by a pair of red-hooded bodyguards who bore both pistol and sword at their belts.

“Governor Belladonna Sims has graced us with her presence,” the guard continued. “All hail the all-powerful dread ruler of Matagorda!”

Caleb blinked at the sight. Whatever he’d been expecting, this hadn’t been it.

Belladonna was a tall, slat-thin woman of indeterminate age. She wore a beaded headdress that had been strapped or braided to her shaven skull. It came complete with silver circlets that dangled on either side like hoop earrings.

A jumble of wrinkled taffeta sprouted from an outfit comprised of an irregularly laced green bodice hung over a yellow top. Mismatched stockings jutted out from below a petticoat-like skirt. Two iron keys hung from a pair of strings around her neck.

One of her piercing dark eyes focused on Adamos, then Wickam, then Caleb. The other wandered aimlessly off to the side, tracking a spot of light reflected by one of the silvery circlets. Her lips were had been stained as bloodshot red as the whites of her eyes. The upper lip made a series of spasmodic twitches, revealing flashes of stained front teeth.

Don’t be too quick to judge, Caleb reminded himself, Maybe she only looks crazy.

The woman’s voice came out somewhere between a screech and a hiss as she pointed one quivering, long-nailed finger at Komtur Adamos.

“So the speck of corruption in mine eyes is revealed at last! Confess your treachery, what you have planned to befoul my home with! Speak truth, lest I send you to join the ranks of the Skinned Ones!”

As if against his will, Caleb glanced up at the flayed bodies decorating the ceiling.

Yeah, this day just keeps getting better and better.

“There is none to speak of,” Adamos gulped. “Governor, had the followers of Myr wished to harm you or take this island, we could have done so openly.”

“Thine words sound false as ever,” she flared. “Because Myr desires control instead of war when he can get it! My own brother was poisoned nigh on a week ago, thus I know there is treachery everywhere!”

“Governor, I assure you, my ship is moored at your quay only to re-provision–”

“Silence!” She pointed down towards the edge of the platform before her. “All of you, place your tribute here!”

Decklan Patrick swallowed hard. He walked up to the indicated area, set the chest down, and returned to Caleb’s side. The subordinates for the other two men followed suit and placed small bags next to the chest.

One of the bodyguards collected the items. He turned each container out on the floor at Belladonna’s feet. Gold coins made a clatter as they landed on the smooth stone, followed by a slightly higher pitched jingle as the silver coins from the chest landed atop them.

The Governor made a sniff.

“A pathetic tribute, Komtur Gortak. Yet here is what you have come for.” She tugged one of the keys loose from her neck with a snap of the string, then tossed it to him. “That key opens one of the two holding pens. Take the two dozen chattel within and begone!”

Caleb grasped the key in midair. He set his jaw and spoke to Belladonna for the first time.

“My thanks, Governor. Yet my charge is to take all fifty souls for Myr. Not half.”

Belladonna made a flighty gesture, as if to say: What of it?

“I’ve sold the other half of your cargo to Captain Wickam. He’ll be bringing them to the slave markets of Osopar, and he offered me a much better price than Lady Ravencrow. Plus, he brought a flattering amount of tribute. Unlike you.”

“That was never part of the deal,” Caleb gritted. “Nor was giving half our cargo to these pirates!”

She stared at him with the one eye under her control.

“I am altering the deal. Pray I do not alter it any further.”

This deal is getting worse all the time! Caleb fumed.

“Wickam, here is your portion of the cargo,” Belladonna said, as she snapped the second thread around her neck. She tossed the key, which the pirate captain caught in mid-air. “Be aware that your life hangs by a spider’s silken thread. Mine own ears have picked up rumors. The followers of Myr have declared war against your kind.”

Caleb’s quest window blinked urgently as Wickam gave a flowery thank-you to the Governor.

Veteran Adventurer’s-Level Quest:

Get the Arrenmar held on Matagorda out of their holding cages and safely onto your ship. STATUS: IN PROGRESS.

WARNING: Completion of quest shall likely trigger additional Veteran Adventurer’s-Level Quests such as escaping the Myrkur’s Naval Arm, the Sea Vipers.

ADDITIONAL WARNING: This Quest will be considered a failure if Captain Wickam gets his share of the Arrenmar aboard his ship, the Flogging Molly.

“Sienna,” Caleb whispered urgently, as he shoved the key into her hand. “You and Patrick, go free the Arrenmar in the first of the two holding areas. Get them to the ship at all costs.”

“Aye, that I shall,” Sienna replied. “But the other key–”

“I’ll get it,” he vowed grimly. “By Lir’s beard, I shall.”

She threw him a final, desperate look. Then she left at a run, with Patrick following. Caleb did his best to settle his roiling thoughts.

Of course the Quest will fail, he thought. If Wickam sets sail with those people aboard, there’s no way we’ll be able to find them across the vast stretches of ocean!

Yet the odds didn’t look all that good here, either. He’d sent away his Quartermaster and Second Mate to ensure that at least half the Arrenmar would reach his sloop.

His mind went back to Lir and Danu’s helpful hints.

When stuck in a corner, the unexpected should at least throw things into chaos, restoring chance where before there was only certain defeat.

And who said that he’d have to fight alone?

“Governor Sims,” he said loudly, drowning out Wickam’s speech. “I have an announcement to make.”

She and the pirate captain turned to look at him.

“Well?” she said, annoyed. “What is it, death cultist?”

Caleb envisioned the burning of some more gems of XP, then invoked the Corsair skill he wanted.

Bluff Assist

Once again, his mind recalled part of the description under this skill. The possibility of a bluff succeeding is improved when it is in alignment with the subject’s beliefs.

And he knew beyond all doubt what Belladonna Sims was ready to believe.

“I only wanted to confess my treachery,” Caleb said, as he stepped forward. “Agents of the Myrkur brought the poison here so we could murder your brother. What’s more, Komtur Adamos and I are in league to destroy all pirates in these waters. Oh, and we’ll be taking Matagorda in the name of our god, Myr. Starting now.”