"Knowing the meaning of flags are of vital importance to any seafarer. The flags of any nation in the region, and ideally the regional provinces or duchies or jarldoms or whatever passes as a smaller denomination of land, is good to have, as it allows easy identification.

Besides flags of allegiance, there were four other colors to be noted for any seamen. White signifies a plague on board, that the ship is lost, likely with all aboard, and should be avoided or scuttled. Green denotes a request for aid, and only the most unscrupulous pirates, those looked down upon by their own kind if not hunted down, would abuse this to lure in victims, so it is in general a reliable sign.

The last two colors, Black and Red, involved pirates, or ships from enemy nations. Should one such ship fly the black flag, it means that they are willing to show mercy to those who do not resist, and only come for goods, not lives. On the other hand, a red flag hoisted meant that every last person on the targeted ship would receive no quarter whatsoever." - Ferrik Gustaffson, Jötunbergian veteran sailor and owner of a merchant ship.

"Hope you don't have issues fighting against fellow Elmaiyans, Jerrod," said Aideen towards the man standing to her right. Jerrod had been given a suit of light leather - not for protection, but one cleverly worked to allow air pockets, to help him float should he fall overboard, as the man confessed that he could not swim - and had a small shield and a hatchet in his hands. "Those are Elmaiyan privateers coming our way."

The approaching galleon - it was a smaller one, maybe a crew or hundred or so, but still nearly twice the size of the small caravel they travel in - had shed all pretense and raised it flags when it noticed that they were faster, and had raised the Empire's flag above a black flag, flashing light signals to the caravel to halt for inspection.

They had responded by hoisting their own flags, the Ptolodeccan emblem, a rendition of the Bone Lord's skull on a field of black, proudly raised, with a red flag below it, warning the Elmaiyans that they would find a response made with deadly force.

It was a warning ignored by the galleon, which kept closing the distance between the ship. By now they would catch up in half an hour at most, and was close enough that their lookout in the crow's nest could discern more detail through his spyglass.

What they saw were a ragtag crew in rough outfits, with nary a semblance of discipline or uniformity like they would have expected from navies. All signs pointed out to privateers hired by the empire to accost any ship not flying their flag.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Not much harassment was traded as the ships approached each other, as arrow fire was deflected by mages on the other ship, and neither side used anything actually capable of damaging ships. The pirates because they desired their loot intact, the Ptolodeccans because they were on a covert mission, relying more on not being noticed than being geared for war.

It was a relatively peaceful back-and-forth where arrows were fired almost lazily, only to be swatted away by magic or taken on shields, until the ships came close enough to each other. Privateers from the galleon threw grappling hooks and pulled hard, drawing their ships closer together even as Ptolodeccans watched with contempt. They didn't even bother removing the hooks and allowed the privateers to pull them closer.

A boarding plank - a wide bridge made from wooden planks with hooks on both ends - was placed to bridge the two ships, and moments laters privateers, which Aideen noticed were mostly therians, many of them aquatic breeds, rushed down the plank into the caravel, wielding blades and claw.

Aideen watched as Jerrod clashed with a lanky lizardlike therian, his hatchet matching the privateer's cutlass. To her left Rianna tackled another with a pair of double-bladed daggers, one in each hand. She herself had requested them to leave her some extra room, and her black adamant staff whirled through the air as she swept it at the nearest privateer to her.

The bulky therian - his huge body was quite flabby though he moved deceptively fast for his size - tried to block her incoming staff with his wooden cudgel, studded with metal. Instead he felt a horrible force land on his weapon, shatter it in half, and went straight on towards his head.

At the last moment, the bulky walrus therian managed to tilt his head far enough to avoid the blow from shattering his neck. The staff still landed on his lower jaw, however, and shattered his jawbone to pieces, as well as snapping both of his proud tusks along the way, as he flopped to the side, screaming incoherently from the pain.

Some of the pirates behind him caught sight of the spectacle, and would have hesitated, if not for the slope of the plank and the others pushing from behind them forcing them ahead. The height difference between the ships meant the plank was at a relatively steep diagonal angle.

They found Aideen waiting for them at the end of the plank, her weapon whirling around like a living creature, each brutally heavy strike shattering weapons, or crushing bones. To her sides other ptolodeccan agents and sailors, the more melee oriented ones, helped keep the privateers contained in the small area, while others exchanged blasts of magic with those still aboard their ship.

Before too long, privateers started to slow as they saw the meat grinder their fellows had fallen into, caged in by the more experienced, well trained Ptolodeccans and butchered in their cages without being allowed a step out.

Once they thought they saw a chance when one of theirs tackled Jerrod down, but before others could even exploit the gap, Aideen had stepped in, a section of her black staff flailed against the head of a privateer trying his luck, which resulted in brain matter flying everywhere and that same privateer dropping dead with the upper half of his head pulverized.

Before the privateers even got a grip on their surprise, they saw Jerrod got up, the lizard like therian that tackled him lay dead beneath his feet, as he extracted his hatchet from the side of the privateer's neck.

What caught their attention, however, was how Jerrod had stood up with half his throat torn out, the blood spurting out wildly from the explosed arteries, and yet he looked as if he didn't care one bit about it.

Aideen had charged them before they shook themselves off from that moment of shock.