“So, Menstons finally hit the dust.” The man shakes his head in mock disapproval. “If he’d just joined my fleet I could have kept his ass alive.”

“The Lion's Maw is not a [Captain] easily deterred.” The [First Mate] warns.

The [Fleet Captain] leans back into his chair with a grin. “No- no he is not. But even he wouldn’t mess with me and my breakers. I could easily have Menston hidden in port for a year until they give up the chase.”

“Or the [Bounty Hunter] brings an entire fleet to Breston.” The [First Mate] counters. “He’s the eir to his kingdom’s throne after all. ”

“Fine Menard. If a fleet showed up, then I’d leave Menston to hang. I’m not about to take on a named expert, even if winning would give me that damn final level.”

“But you’re willing to try to kill an unnamed expert.”

“Yes, because unlike the Lion’s Maw, the [Lord] of Breston doesn’t have an entire kingdom backing him up. If Richard dies then all of Breston is mine and nobody is going to be wanting revenge. I’ll get my final level and an entire city to boot. All I need now is a large supply of weapons and armor to arm my gang and I should have the numbers to take him out.”

“Ahh, about that.” Menard grimaces. “Though Menston is dead, the Imminent Huntress wasn’t destroyed. A frigate known as the Timbergrove towed the destroyer to port and now they are planning to sell the weapons and armor to the highest bidder.”

“NO!” the [Fleet Captain] leans forward with a growl. The chair's armrest cracks under the pressure of hishands. “I was promised that equipment by Menston.”

Menard raises an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that [Lord] Richard made a deal for it.”

“Yes, and I made a better one. Now that [Lord] is going to buy all of it.”

“We could try to buy it first.”

“With what? We’re wealthy, but not Breston wealthy. If he gets that equipment, we’re going to be dealing with twice as many [Guards] as usual. We have to stop that sale at all costs. Tell me about the Timbergrove.”

Menard clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “Well, it's a cored frigate without cannons. Looks rather old, but in good condition.”

“Number of crew? Levels?”

“The men counted four adults and a child. The [Captain] is presumably within the ship. They have a level 1 [Quartermaster] and a level 3 [First Mate]. Only two of the adults look capable of combat.”

“That's… low.” The [Fleet Captain] leans back into his chair as the anger leaves him. “Very low. It’s also good that the [Captain] never showed their face.”

The [Fleet Captain] goes completely silent for long moments. Long enough for Menard to feel uncomfortable.

“[Captain]?”

“This is perfect. Prepare some of our [Rogues]- five should be enough. Pay off the [Guard] to keep away from the Timbergrove and then send the [Rogues] to kill off the crew in the middle of the night.”

“That is a bit bold, even for you. Attacking another crew at port is heavily frowned upon.” Menard reminds him.

“They just made port and the [Captain] has yet to show his face. Grease some palms with coin and then not only will the equipment be ours, but so will the timbergrove.”

“That's a cored frigate. Questions will be asked.”

The [Fleet Captain] glares. “I don't care. We’ll deal with the problems after. For now, I can't have that cunt of a [Lord] expanding his [Guards].”

“Calvaran, this is very risky. It’s unlike you.”

“Get it done, Menard,” Calvaron growls. “And don’t use my first name.”

Calvaron crosses his arms. “I’m not going to waste another decade gaining power to overthrow Breston [Lord].”

Menard sighs. “I’ll get it done.”

_________________________________________________________________

“Pssst. Pssst. Comrade Clay. Comrade Clay!”

Clay groans as a rough hand shakes him awake. When he opens his eyes, he finds Boriss in all black with a grin on his face.

“You are awake, da?” Boriss whispers the question.

Clay blinks a few times. Wipes his eyes and yawns. “I-I am. Is something wrong?”

“Is little problem. You come help.”

“You need me to help you?” Clay asks.

“Da, for training. I teach you how to be strong Russian Man.”

“Uhhh.” Clay glances at the porthole and see only pitch-black darkness. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Da, is best time.” Boriss lifts a black cloak. “Not make noise and wear dis. Then follow like mouse.”

Clay frowns, but does as asked. He dons the pitch-black cloak, puts on his shoes and walks past Myers sleeping form. The old man, though he sleeps little, goes into a deep sleep when he does so.

“Dis way.” Boriss waves. “Stay low.” he adds and shows Clay how to walk as silently as possible.

Boriss leads him down the hall, up the stairs, and then he exits the Timbergrove. When Clay follows outside, he freezes in fear at the sight of five bodies. One of the bodies is stripped down and another is missing their cloak. All are either unconscious or dead.

Clay swallows. “Who are they?”

Boriss puts a finger to his lips. “Shhh. You must be sneaky. Is important.”

“Who are they?” Clay whispers.

“Bad men who come kill.”

“They’re bad?”

“Da.” Boriss nods. “They move like elephants with squeaky collar. Very not sneaky. No training like proper Russian.”

Clay opens his mouth to ask another question, but Boriss urges him to follow.

As the Russian moves, curiosity wins over fear and he rushes to Boriss side. They exit the Timbergrove to little firelight and no [Guard] in sight.

“Where is everyone?” Clay whispers the question.

“Maybe bribe, maybe lazy. Is not matter. Come, we go to ship.”

____________________________________________________________________

A firm hand strokes my back with a subtle but rough touch as though it’s covered in calluses. It is a rather unique feeling that gets me purring happily. Only after a good minute of petting do I deign to open my eyes. I am met with a grinning Emma.

“You’re so soft,” She says happily.

“Of course I am.”

I stand up and do a stretch. Then I look around and find only Emma.

“Where's the boys?” I ask.

“Outside. When my dad came home, he kinda kicked them out. I put a cover on you so he doesn’t know you’re in my room.”

“Huh. Good.” I hop up onto her shoulder wherein she gives a surprised squeak.

“Damn, your skin feels like grainy leather.”

“I am Gemma.”

“And now my current mount.” I tap her on the back of the neck. “Lead me outside. We’ve got a gang to destroy.”

She snorts but obliges. Though she tries to be stealthy, it is anything but as her bare feet scrape on the stone floor.

When we reach the exit, she stops as a clothed statue blocks the exit. Other than the two eyes, you couldn’t even tell if the statue is even alive. The eyes immediately focus on me.

“Dad!” Emma exclaims in surprise.

“I knew when I saw those two boys in your room that you’ve involved yourself in something stupid again.”

“Dad, it's complicated and important.”

The father crosses his arms. “Try me.”

“A friend’s in trouble, dad. I need to help.”

“So not just stupid but also dangerous.”

Emma straightens her back and forms fists in her hands. “Dad, you can't stop me! I’m a grown woman and I need to leave.”

The father stares at his daughter for a long moment. No emotion except for the eyes. Worry, anger, regret, recognition, and finally acceptance.

“You take after your mother.”

“What?”

“Ganna was always the erratic type while I was the staunch one. Over the decades I've been with her, I was never able to change her mind.” He leans to the side and lifts up a runed longsword with remarkable ease. “But, I was always there to make sure she survived those mistakes.”

He lifts the longsword and rests it on his stone shoulder. “Now, let's deal with this dangerous problem you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“You’re coming with?” She asks in surprise.

“I am.” He steps to the side and stops blocking the entrance. “Now, what have you gotten yourself into?”

Emma stares, flabbergasted. Her eyes focus on her fathers own, and she only sees loving warmth and an unbreakable urge to protect.

“I have to lead [Captain] Quasi to the Breakers.”

“The breakers? You’ve gotten involved with them? Who is this [Captain] Quasi?”

The kitten raises a paw. “That would be me.”

Since her birth, her fathers facial expression has never changed. Only through his eyes could you tell what he was thinking.

But now, this very moment, she’d seen the smallest crack of surprise. So tiny that you’d think it didn't exist.

“The cat can talk.”

“The statue can talk.” The cat answers back.

Cat and Statue gaze at one another for a long moment. One lacks emotion, the other grins cutely.

“Dad, you don’t have to come with me. I’ll be fine. It’s not like I'm going to get into a fight.”

“She’s right.” the cat agrees. “She’s just leading me to where I will be getting into a slaughter.”

“Quasi, you’re not helping.” Emma exclaims in exasperation.

“Bah, your dads already made up his mind. We could be going outside to plant flowers and talk about our feelings and he’d be there glaring angrily at the plants.”

“Still.” She says with a crack of a smile.

“Still what? He’s your father and he wants to make sure you’re safe. Either have him come with you or he's going to follow you and mess everything up.”

“That's… ughhh.”

“Yes, yes,” Quasi taps her head compassionately. “Very frustrating, I know. But that’s what you get with familial love. I mean, look at the brothers. I only need one of them to show me around, but neither of those two are willing to let the other take heed of the danger. If you want your father not to come, then you’re going to need to stay.”

“I’m going.” Emma says resolutely.

“Then so is your father. Now.” Quasi waves a paw at the doors. “Let's head out. The night is young and I have much violence to get to.”

______________________________________________________________

“You’ve brought your father?” Carrian asks in surprise when we walk up to the duo.

The duo are now covered in dark clothing from head to toe. Perfect for stealth, but arguably little protection in a fight.

Emma pouts when she glances at her father. “Yea, he wants to protect me and demands to come along.”

“No, absolutely not. We need stealth,” he extends a hand toward the walking statue, “He’s going to be too loud.”

“I'm going to be too loud too.” Emma counters.

Carrian removes a bag from his back and places it on the floor. “Not with this.” He opens the bag to reveal a lot of padding and cloth strips. “If we pad your feet and joints, we can make you silent- but I only brought enough for you.” He glances at the silent father. “I’ve got nothing for your dad, nor do I think padding would even work for him.”

“Do you require stealth?” The father asks coldly with a gruff voice that sends a shiver down both brothers' spines.

“Uhh, yes?”

“Give me a moment to grab something.” He turns and starts walking back towards his home. “Do not leave until I return.”

They watch him walk away with each step loudly reverberating the ground and informing all nearby of their presence.

“Should we leave?” Daveed asks.

“Nah,” I finally say. “We’ll wait for him. I’m curious what he’s going to get. In the meantime,” I hop off Emma's shoulder. “Pad her up.”

They do just that as they smother her feet with padding and cover her skin in black cloth. They even put a black cloak over her to cover her caramel skin. Once done, she tests her movements and finds them thoroughly muffled.

“This feels weird.” She takes several steps. “How can you wear something under your feet? It’s so uncomfortable.”

“Human skin is too fragile.” A gruff voice interrupts all present including myself. We turn towards the voice to find the father returned in all his usual glory except for shiny metal greaves on the statues' shins. The greaves are covered in runes that look to be glowing mutely.

“Dad, are those- are those runed greaves?” Emma asks in bewilderment.

The father nods. “They are Greaves Of Silent Stomping. They will make sure that I am silent.”

“Did you just leave and make that?” I ask in surprise.

“Impossible,” Emma shakes her head in surprise. “I see six runes. That's exceptional level equipment. Dad, where did you get that?”

“I made them for your mother long ago.”

“I’ve never seen them before.”

“Because I keep her old equipment securely locked away.” He explains.

“There's more?” Emma asks eagerly.

“Later,” I interrupt. “As interesting as all this is, I want to get to the killing sooner than later.” I glance at the statute. “Considering I didn’t hear you approach, I’m going to guess that you are completely silent.”

“To an extent.”

Extent? So it cancels sound up to a threshold or something.

“That should work. Let's head out. Carrian, lead the way.”

“Sure… but where do you want to go first? I know of at least nineteen buildings where the breakers hang out.”

“Nineteen! That's not a small gang. Thats a fucking organization. What the hell.”

Carrian scratches the side of his next. “Well, yea. They're the largest gang in Breston.”

“Fuck.” I curse. “That’s going to take me too fucking long to slaughter. I don't have months. Do you know where their leader is?”

“Calvaran? I… do.”

“Perfect. Lead me to him.”

“I… are you sure? He’s one of the strongest in all of Breston. Not even the [Lord] dares mess with him.”

“And he will be the deadest once I’m done with him.” I hop up on Emma's shoulder. “Now, lead me to him.”

Carrion and Daveed share fearful looks.

“Don't just stare at each other like lovers. Get with the leading. I want to bathe in his guts before morning.”

They nod at the same time and start leading me and the two Gemma through the winding streets.

_______________________________________________________________

Our two guides lead us not deeper into the city, but actually to one of the larger ports where they get an elevated view of five destroyers lined up next to each other and waving the same flag. Out of the five destroyers, the central destroyer is the largest and most magnificent of them all. When he stares at the ship, its name pops up in his vision.

“The leader of the breakers is a [Captain]?” I ask in surprise.

“A [Fleet Captain].” Carrian corrects. “He should be aboard his flagship.” He points at the central ship.

I stare at the ship some more and frown when I see it.

“Something is wrong.” The statue beats me to it. “There is too little light on that ship.” He complains.

“Fuck the lights. I see dead bodies!”

Everyone turns to me in surprise.

“I can see in the dark.” I quickly explain. “There's dead bodies shoved into the dark areas of the ship. We need to move quickly.”

“Somebody is attacking the breakers?” Emma questions.

“No,” I growl. “Somebody is stealing my prey. Let's move!”