“Can’t put a price on love. Happiness is another matter.”

-The Golden Son, account written by biographer shortly before the latter’s death, date unknown.

 

Ario gave the canvas a few more lazy strokes of red. The piece was coming together well enough—depicting the Concord’s victory over Elandra at the Siege of Northmark during the First War of the East. He thanked the colors for giving it an authentic pop. The red especially, swathes of it covering the bloodied shores.

He mixed his colors himself. Red was always trickiest. Maintaining a steady supply of human blood without drawing attention required great care.

The studio was light and airy, white walls and white curtains. The windows were open, allowing a pleasant Redharbor breeze to circulate the room.

Ario took a step back from his painting and examined it with a trained eye. Countless corpses piled high, many dismembered beyond recognition. The grey pallor of their complexions contrasted against the bright-red blood that had turned the soil to sludge.

There wasn’t much actual blood in the paint, of course. It was a suboptimal substance for blending paint. It had a tendency to flake, and the color was far too dark once it set. It was mostly for his own sake, to allow his works an added level of authenticity, power.

A knock at the door. Ario sighed and set aside his palette and brush on a stool. He wiped the paint from his hands with a wet towel, working meticulously. Every fold of skin had to be clean.

The knocking continued.

He dug underneath his nails, dislodging every smudge of dried paint. Once finished, he repeated the procedure. First wiping palms and backs, then going into the cracks, then under the nails.

“Yes!” he called once he was well and truly done. “You may enter!”

A woman came into the room. Brown-haired. Unremarkable. Dull. He had only a vague, fleeting memory of her.

“Sir,” she said, standing at attention. “I apologize for the inconvenience. I have some information you may want to hear.”

“What’s your name again?” Ario asked.

“Sergeant Parker, sir.”

Ario nodded. “Ah.” He took a seat in a chair by one of the windows and poured a glass of wine from a nearby pitcher. “Report, then. Make it quick.”

“The crew you ordered taken out,” Parker said. “They appear to have dispatched a large group of bounty hunters. Since, interest in the bounties has been tepid at best.”

“I see. Disappointing. I had hoped to do this cleanly.” He sipped at the wine, pursed his lips at the oversweet undertone. “You needn’t have bothered me with this. You can go.”

“There’s more. Our contacts in Tumba have confirmed that the same crew, one Wenezian and her cohorts, have been collecting some kind of artifacts. Magical in origin, supposedly. The rumors circulating in the pirate city suggest that these artifacts are in fact a map leading to an unimaginable treasure.”

Ario chuckled. “Local superstition, no doubt. Regardless, an interesting tidbit. Have the bounties frozen. Make sure that our agents keep an eye on this… Wenezian.”

Parker nodded. “Very well. There is one more thing, sir. A man has been trying to contact you. A Tumbani pirate captain.”

Ario’s brows shot up. “Now there’s a surprise! You should have led with that. What is his name?”

“Captain Legarius Rand.”

*****

An angry-red sun glared at Yin, half-hidden behind the lip of the ocean. It stained the clouds orange and set the waves glittering like gems. She crouched on the very top of an old clock tower, feet balanced on the fine point of its tapered roof. Seven stories up, a hard wind blowing her hair back.

The whole Shipbreaker sea lay before her, all of Tumba at her back.

Wil crept out of the belfry onto the roof, stuck to the tiles like gum. His knuckles were white, arms trembling, jaw set.

“Did we really… have to come… all the way up here?” Wil asked, teeth clenched as he worked his way towards Yin.

“Stop whining,” Yin said. “This is the best view in the city. You have to see it at least once.”

“Great view, sure. Not sure it’s worth dying over.”

Wil crawled to her side and gripped the tip of the roof. He panted, face pale as though he was about to hurl.

“Take a second to relax,” Yin said. “It gets easier. You just need to learn to trust your own body.”

“Easy for you to say. Your body’s got the strength of a dozen men.”

“Flattery. It’s eight, at most.”

Wil let out a snort of laughter. Yin slid down next to him, held onto his arm so he’d feel safe. They looked over the ocean for a while, both silent, watching the sun set. The sky shifted to purple, only a hazy red smear left on the horizon.

Wil pointed to a ship descending towards the docks. “There. That’s Captain Verdulion’s ship, the Blessed Ember. Do you see how light it is, how sleek the design? It must be like piloting a feather.”

Yin frowned at the black smudge in the distance but failed to see anything special about it. “Mmhmm. Sure.”

“Verdulion’s one of the oldest captains in the Free Cities, you know. seventy-five years old. Very few pirates live that long.”

“Your hobby is studying old men?” Yin asked. “Maybe I don’t want to be friends with you after all.”

“Shut up,” Wil said. “Not old men. Pirates. I… admire them. One day, I’ll be a great captain. Like your Captain Wenezian, or…”

“The Golden Son,” Yin whispered.

He nodded. “Yes. Like him. So many days I’ve watched the docks, hoping to catch a glimpse of his ship, the Solar Fox.”

“Did you ever see it?”

“I thought I did. Just a few days ago, actually—but it was the wrong ship. The Golden Son would never let his vessel fall into such disrepair.”

Yin pointed to another ship on the docks, picked at random. “What about that one?”

“Easy,” Wil said. “That’s Captain ag Vardik’s ship, the Long Leaper. He mostly ferries valuable goods for Free City companies to Eurinos.”

“Ag Vardik? Odd name.”

“He’s a wildkin. Gaerish, I think. That’s reason alone not to mess with him.”

Yin let her head slump back against the tiles and her eyes flickered half-shut. Wil went on about various pirate captains, alive or dead, finding new threads to pull whenever he reached the end of a thought. His voice was calming, allowed her tense muscles to soften. She melted into his embrace.

“I hear rumors about the Wenezian Crew, too,” Wil mused. “More and more, these days.”

“That so?”

“I hear you’re after some kind of treasure. That you’re treating with half the crews in the city to put the map together. Is that true?”

“True enough.” That was no secret. At least, it would have been impossible to keep it a secret, with the other parties involved.

“Wow, really? That’s so cool! It sounds like something the Golden Son would do, piecing together puzzles to find a hidden treasure.” He paused, grew thoughtful. “What are you gonna do with your share?”

“I haven’t thought that far yet. Something expensive, I reckon. What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you had a slice of a priceless treasure, what would you do?”

Wil ran a hand through his hair, looking out over the sea with a glint in his eyes. “Easy. I’d buy a ship, hire a crew, be free. I’d go to Carthas or Meliore, leave this city behind. Nothing but bad memories here.”

“You sure have it all planned out,” Yin said. She traced a messy line of circular scars on his forearm with a finger.

“Sure. Upbringing like mine, all you’ve got is your dreams.”

“True.” Yin recalled her years as an orphan in Mujha, hustling to survive just another day. She’d dreamt of a kind stranger handing her a pile of money or inviting her into their family. That she’d grow up normal, with a normal family, normal friends, normal interests, and a normal job.

That dream had died when the Awakened took her, performed their experiments on her body, turned her into a half-breed freak only fit to kill.

Maybe… she thought. Maybe it’s still possible.

She gripped Wil tighter, afraid he’d slip through her fingers.

“Got to be pretty careful with a treasure like that, huh?” Wil asked. “Your captain must never let that map out of her sight.”

“Actually, we don’t keep the pieces on the ship,” Yin said. “The captain knows a blood witch who keeps ‘em safe for us. She lives in Flotsam.”

“Damn, I wish I was on the Wenezian Crew like you. It all sounds so exciting! Ancient treasures, blood witches, the whole number.”

“Maybe when you’re older,” Yin said with a smirk.

Wil blushed. “I’m a year older than you!”

“And twice as stupid, somehow.”

The boy went stiff with indignation, but Yin laughed and pulled him tighter. Eventually, he softened, chuckling with her.

They stayed on the clock tower until the light went out and the evening chill set in. Even then, Yin was reluctant to leave, and made Wil promise that they’d meet up the next day.