Eila was numb. The crying in the room sounded like a distant buzz in her ears.

The pirates had taken the cards in her [Binder]. That meant all of Aidas’s cards were gone, her last, tangible keepsake of her brother. The cards she’d forged herself for him, swallowed up by that pirate First Mate Boll.

She’d memorized him. He currently stood off at the side of the room with some others, gorging themselves on the leftover food from the dinner buffet, laughing.

Tall. Muscular. Bulbous nose, left eye smaller than the right. Shaved head with light stubble. A skull tattoo on his right hand.

She repeated these observations to herself. It soothed her, though she knew it was futile. Even if she did have her cards, she wasn’t a fighter. Her hands forged, not killed.

Still, she imagined herself wrapping her hands around the throat of that smug pirate and squeezing.

Her eyes swept the current state of the dining room. There were sixteen pirates in the room here now; eight of them kept an eye on the hostages, though they seemed more interested in checking the [Binder] loot they’d accumulated, while the remaining eight—including the one who stole from Eila—stood off at the buffet, taking a break.

She had the sense that these pirates were not a disciplined crew. Their take-over had been swift and efficient, but now that they were in control, they seemed lax, content to idle and wait for their captain to issue orders. They hadn’t demanded the passengers to strip and hand over their clothes, either; that seemed like an obvious step if they were going to loot them of all their belongings. Though they had taken all the jewelry, some of these wealthier patrons on here had tailored equipment, meaning their fancy suits and dresses were actually Armored.

She saw a familiar face out of the corner of her eye. It was Amanthi and the others. The tall, composed woman looked disheveled, her eyes red and lip trembling. Junner kept clenching and unclenching his fists, staring daggers at the nearest pirate, who had her back turned to him. Was she the pirate who stole his [Binder]?

She bit her lip, thinking. At the moment, all the hostages were fractured into their own small groups, huddling amongst each other, frightened and scared. But the pirates weren’t letting them move an inch, not even to use the bathroom.

But if they could move, could talk with each other… they outnumbered the pirates twenty to one, with more coming in by the minute. Tristan still hadn’t shown up; her worry intensified with every passenger that came in that wasn’t him.

The pirates didn’t show any sign of anxiety about the difference in numbers. Why would they? They had their decks, and the hostages didn’t. Resistance would be suicide. That needed to change. But how?

An idea came to her.

Before she could second guess herself, she rose to her feet. The young mother beside her looked up in alarm.

“Hello?” Eila called, raising her arm. “I would like to parlay.”

—🃁—

Tristan crept through the vast interior of the Serenity,

Sir Barrihald behind him. There had been a service hatch into the hull down the walkway. It was locked, but Sir Barrihald had his [Binder] full of various useful items.

One of them was a [Basic Fire Source]. He’d converted the source, gripped it tight with a wince, and shoved it into the lock. The source had burned a hole straight through before dissipating.

I messed up selling all of my items, Tristan had thought, watching as the portly gentlemen blew cold air on his singed hand. I won’t make that mistake again. He hadn’t understood properly the practical applications raw materials had.

Sir Barrihald had also given Tristan a fresh set of equipment to replace his damaged ones. The helmet and boots were unfortunately Apprentice, but the rest were Adept, including an expensive [Thunderhawk Cloak], which granted an additional 60 Armor to his top slot.

“Hold on a moment, lad,” Sir Barrihald huffed. Tristan paused and looked back at the gentlemen, who braced himself against a railing. “I’m not as spry as I once was. Just give me a moment to catch my breath.”

Tristan nodded, though he ached to keep moving. He took the moment to look more closely at where they were. The interior hull of the Serenity was a mess of overlapping catwalks spanning a gargantuan empty space like a metallic spiderweb. Ladders leading downwards were dotted throughout. Tristan could just barely see the bottom, which Sir Barrihald said was the roof of the eighth floor.

There was a ladder just up ahead, which led down to another catwalk, which led to another ladder, and so on all the way down to the bottom. Luckily, he didn’t see any pirates in here. This crew seemed rather sloppy and unprofessional; the manner of his own escape from them despite not having cards, plus the fact that Sir Barrihald had done the same, led Tristan to believe they had a real chance of taking back the ship. They just had to make it to the crystal room safely.

“Sir Barrihald,” Tristan said, as the older man sucked in a deep breath. “How exactly does the lockdown work? What makes it run?”

“It’s a closely guarded secret, my good man,” Sir Barrihald said. “I know that it involves a complex assortment of Grandmaster Order cards, filtered through a Field card that applies the effect in a given area. Beyond that, I’m not too sure.”

Tristan got the gist of it. Somehow, the people of this world had figured out how to have cards cast independent from a cardbearer through machines. The [Teleport Stone], for example, likely was a mechanical application of the Master Air card [Teleport]. A similar thing must be happening with [Enforce: Lockdown], the Grandmaster Order card.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

But this wasn’t important for now. “Ready to keep going?” he asked.

Sir Barrihald nodded.

—🃁—

“A parlay?” one of the pirates barked in disbelief. He turned to the others and laughed. “Parlays are for the seas. Sit your ass back down and shut up.”

Eila did her best not to show her fear. She instead smiled back at the pirate. “You lot just got a whole bunch of [Blueprints], did you not? I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that [Blueprints] are worth a fraction of the actual card themselves.” She pressed a hand against her chest. “I’m an Adept forger. I’ll forge your [Blueprints] for you.”

First Mate Boll, clearly having heard the commotion, walked up. He held a bottle of some brown liquor in his hand and was frowning. “What’s all this?”

“This girl says she’ll forge the [Blueprints] we got for us,” the pirate said, now sounding a little uncertain.

Eila kept the smile on her face as she turned to the man who’d stolen her brother’s cards. Bastard. “Look. You’re just having us sit here, wasting time. Why not make us work? Besides, you’re going to have to split all the loot between the crew, aren’t you? Splitting the cost of cards is much more profitable than [Blueprints].”

Boll wagged his bottle at Eila. “And why would you do such a thing? The kindness of your heart?”

“Like I said. Parlay. I’ll forge your cards for you.” She pretended to think about it. “In exchange, you let some of us go. How about two people for every card I forge?”

Boll snorted. He took a big swig of the bottle and then stepped up in front of Eila. He pulled a card from his deck and placed it right between her eyes. A gasp rose from the room. She heard the sound of someone standing, and she quickly waved her hand behind her back, gesturing for whoever they were to sit back down.

“How about this,” Boll said, sneering. “You forge the [Blueprints] for us, or I turn your brain to mist. That sounds like a better parlay to me.”

Though every part of her was screaming, Eila stayed outwardly calm. She met him in the eyes. “If you force me to forge, I won’t be able to do it properly. I’ll take longer because I’m afraid one misstep will result in death or I might outright fail. On the other hand, if you let me at least feel like I’m doing it of my own choice, I guarantee I’ll produce faster and better cards.”

Boll opened his mouth.

She cut him off. “And before you threaten me and say, ‘Oh, if you fail a card I’ll just kill you,’ come on. That just leaves us where we started.” Some of the other pirates chuckled at that.

Boll hummed, taking another swig. His pudgy, flattened face was steadily getting red. She didn’t know if it was good or bad that he and the other pirates were getting drunk. That meant they were more pliable, more loose—but also more volatile and hard to predict.

“You have a set of cards on you, girl,” Boll said after a terrifying moment. “I like that. I respect tough women.” But he shook his head. “Can’t be letting any passengers go. Cap’n will tear me in half.”

“All right, fine,” Eila said, heart thumping rapidly. “But just let us walk around the room, stretch our legs, use the bathroom.” She swept her arm around at the hostages, all of them who were watching this exchange. “We have children here, and babies. You don’t want the room stinking of piss and shit, do you? Besides, some of the families have been separated. At least let us be together before your captain does whatever she will.”

Boll took another swig. He seemed unconvinced.

Come on, she thought, starting to sweat. Please.

“I’ll forge too,” said a voice. Eila twisted about in surprise and saw an older woman in her fifties, matronly and in an elegant plum-colored dress, on her feet.

“Me too,” said a scared but determined-looking man, standing up. A pretty young woman cried at him to sit back down, but he stood tall.

Soon, five more forgers were on their feet. With a shock, she realized that one of them was Forgemaster Gerund from the flyer she and Tristan saw earlier today. Gods, was that only today? Amanthi, notably, remained sitting.

Boll frowned at them all. Eila turned back to him. “Look,” she whispered, only so he could hear. “Eight willing forgers. You guys just obtained hundreds of [Blueprints] from us. Let us do this for you. You’ll have more chips than you can dream of.”

Boll looked over his shoulder at the other pirates, then back at Eila.

He shrugged, trying to look casual. But she didn’t miss the gleam of greed in his eyes.

“Fine,” Boll barked, looking out at the hostages. “But try anything, and heads will roll. Understood?”

Eila let loose a tight breath, her legs suddenly shaking.

“Understood.”

—🃁—

Tristan silently dropped down to the bottom floor of the hull, Sir Barrihald scrambling down the ladder behind him.

To his right was a large hatch that would lead down into the eighth floor. The room that led into was unclear. But Sir Barrihald had said the crystal room would be at the aft of the ship, while the flight room would be at the fore.

Sir Barrihald came to a crouch beside him. The older man was huffing and puffing, but he had an excited, eager gleam in his eyes.

“What’s the plan, my dear boy?” he asked. “I fear the pirates are below us. This is the most important floor of the whole ship, after all.”

Tristan nodded grimly. He’d been thinking the same thing. “We’re going to have to fight our way into the crystal room.”

“So it must be.” He took a deep breath.

“It’s going to be dangerous, Sir Barrihald,” Tristan said, looking the older man in the eyes. “You don’t have to come down with me.”

“Nonsense. What kind of man would I be if I did such a thing?” He shook his head. “I’d be no man at all. Furthermore, I’m your elder. It is my duty to protect and guide the next generation.”

Sir Barrihald stuck his hand out, and Tristan clasped it.

“If we survive this,” the older man said, “I want you to come and join the Stout and Cane. You told me last night that you wished to join the Elemental Cup. I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen.”

Tristan blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Thank you, Sir Barrihald,” Tristan said. “But you’re wrong about one thing.”

“What’s that, my dear boy?”

“It’s not ‘if’ we survive. It’s ‘when.’”

Sir Barrihald grinned. “Very good. Now, come look at my [Binder]. I have some materials in here that I think will be of considerable use to us.”