“If you touch her . . .!” Sigurd threatened, drawing his dagger. The burly pirate reacted in kind, snapping his sword down on the hunter’s arm. Sigurd hissed, dagger dropping, and his other hand letting go of Vel. He held the bleeding cut on his arm, staggering away from the pirate.

  “Oh, I’ve no intention of ruining any merchandise,” Erl said, his voice slimy.

  “I swear it, if you don’t unhand me, I’ll sing!” Amalia yelled.

  “Oh, you’ll sing, will ya?” the dark eyed pirate holding her laughed.

  “It’ll break every bone in your vitreous body, you overgrown infantile bastard!”

  “Or make my ears bleed,” Erl said, sounding unamused from his perch on the quarterdeck.

  Amalia opened her mouth, and the most melodic note that Vel ever heard left the woman’s lips, dancing upon the wind. Then it faded. For a long moment, there was total silence, and the longer the silence ensued, the more the pirates, one by one, laughed. That was when a sharp explosion pierced the laughter, splinters flying from the quarterdeck’s railing as part of it shattered, and fell towards the main deck.

  Vel stared at the pieces laying before a blue painted door, then shifted her gaze towards Amalia. What. Was. That? She blinked, then shifted to look at Erl. The captain still stared down at the pieces of his railing, a deep expression colored across his shadowed brow.

  “Well,” he started, raising a hand to shift his hat as he looked at Amalia from under its brim. “That’s quite the silver tongue,” he said. “Use it again, and I’ll personally cut out your voicebox, lass.” His voice dripped with animosity, accompanying the scowl upon his long face. “Now stop twiddling your thumbs, and move!” Erl barked, throwing up a hand.

  “Aye sir!” the man beside Vel yelled, and jerked her away from Sigurd and towards the blue door.

  If I do something now, I put the others at risk . . . Vel thought, grimacing as the door before her swung open, and she was shoved inside. Stumbling forward, she turned to watch as the door closed behind her. That was it? No ropes? Nothing? Raising an eyebrow, Vel turned, looking over the room.

  It was massive, windows lining the back wall to allow in an abundance of light. The second thing she noticed was the oval table splayed out in the center of the room, and the third was how pristine the cabin was. There wasn’t a loose paper, article of clothing, or even a wrinkled blanket on the bed to her left.

  Curious as she was, Vel stepped towards the wardrobe in the room, then slowly opened its two doors. There hung, meticulously color coded, several fine coats. Beneath them were an array of leather boots.

  Leave me here alone, she thought, unbound . . . Oh, how the thoughts of mischief swarmed her foggy mind, pushing aside worries she should have had. Vel knew her concerns were there, and briefly considered them, yet she didn’t have the energy to care. All she wanted to do was burn the coats. To a crisp. If only for the pure satisfaction she’d gain from hurting the man she suspected would soon hurt her.

  Her better sense had her closing the wardrobe doors, turning away from the temptation. Instead, she moved to a cushioned couch at the back of the room, royal blue patterns decorating the plush seating. Erl was rich. Meticulous. And, from the moment she saw him threaten Amalia, brutal. Probably. Assuming he was a man that followed through on his threats.

  Vel sat down, running her hands over the soft fabric, and cycled through her list of skills. There were several she specifically wanted to level, particularly the magic ones, and . . . Magic . . . Vel thought, staring at [Shadow Sneak]. She could travel through shadows, and in the dead of night, perhaps she could use that to get away?

  Can I bring people with me? she considered, not having tried. If she could, then everyone could go with her, but if not, what then? Unsure, she settled on the fact that she simply didn’t know enough about their dilemma. More particularly, she didn’t know what a “brig” was. The way Sigurd reacted had her thinking it was bad.

  With a sigh, Vel stood back up. The least she could do was disarray something, given that they’d granted her so much time to herself. Moving back to the wardrobe, she restrained herself, not opening its doors, but did open the drawers at the bottom. Pants, undergarments, and the like rested here. She pulled them out. Each and every one of them, and threw them across the floor.

  Turning around, she looked at the table. Each chair was neatly pushed in, and one at a time, she pulled them out, placing them at awkward angles. She even took the liberty of putting one on the bed, then tore up the bed’s covers to place over the chair. That was sure to drive this man crazy!

  Along the wall near the canopied bed were three ink paintings of shells━the most elaborate cone-like shells Vel had ever seen. She shifted one to hang at an angle, pulled the second off the wall and placed it face down on the floor, then took the third one and placed it in the farthest corner of the room from where it belonged. Under the small table. Perfect.

  Lifting the lamp from the small table, she hung it on the second paint’s peg in the wall, then sighed. As she turned around, the room, while now messier than before, wasn’t sufficiently messy in her opinion, but for a man that seemed wealthy, he didn’t keep a lot. Well, at least not here. She moved to the door opposite to the wall with the wardrobe and . . .

  Locked.

  Seriously? she huffed. Fine, well then, she’d flip a table. Not the big one, that was certain to be too heavy for her. Instead, she moved to the low one in front of the couch. Bending over, she lifted it up, then tilted it completely over. Avenge that!

  Vel yawned, and sat herself back down on the couch. It was far more comfortable than standing, and certainly more comfortable than the cold earth she’d grown used to sleeping on. Maybe . . . maybe sleep wasn’t such a bad idea. A part of her was against it, but another part wasn’t allowing her a choice in the matter, and she leaned towards the latter, eyes closing.

  From the darkness emerged the ocean, gently swaying her back and forth, creating a strange motion that felt odd as she stood upon the water. Before her, standing under a starlit sky, stood a man, and though his back was turned to her, she knew who he was immediately.

  “Edard,” Vel said, stepping forward.

  He didn’t turn towards her, nor did he even look over his shoulder, instead, he stared off towards the horizon beyond them. “Why?” he asked, his voice broken.

  “Why what?” Vel asked, though she knew already.

  “Why didn’t you come with me?”

  Vel closed her eyes and pulled a hand up, clenching at the fabric that shielded her aching heart. The question came exactly as she expected it to, as if Edard had heard the very fears that plagued her mind. Why hadn’t she gone with him? Why did she let him go? Why!

  “I’m sorry,” she squeaked out.

  “I thought you loved me.”

  This isn’t real, she thought, unable to bear the pain that stabbed at her chest, tearing through to halt her racing heart. This can’t be real, she continued, searching for anything that would tell her so.

  It. Was. So hard.

  “Edard, I’m sorry,” she said, opening her eyes. He was looking at her now, right in front of her. All she wanted to do was drown in those gray eyes, holding the man she loved. As she reached out, so did he. He embraced her.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Then he removed the shawl that hid her violet hair.

  Vel gasped awake, ripped from fantasy to reality at the very real touch she felt. She jolted away from Erl, pressing herself against the arm of the couch. Her wide eyes shifted from his face to the silk shawl he held, and a hand slowly went up to touch her exposed hair.

  No, no, no, she thought, adrenaline driving her to move. She jerked up, looking towards the blue door at the other end of the room, then felt a hand wrap around her wrist. With a sharp pull, Vel yelped as Erl yanked her back into her seat.

  “Don’t. Move,” he ordered, pointing a finger. “Dare I ever let you have the freedom to roam as you please again. You made a mess of my home, and I will not stand for it.”

  “You speak like a woman,” Vel scowled.

  [Insult level 2]

  Really, what does that skill even do? Vel frowned, Erl rolling his eyes.

  “My education’s merely a mite better than any of that lot beyond that door. I could leave you to them. They’d waste you in less than a day,” Erl threatened.

  “And you’ll do what with me?” she asked.

  “Do as I say, and we’ll have a very comfortable arrangement.”

  “Oh yes, comfortable for you,” Vel ripped her hand free, somewhat surprised that he allowed it, then crossed her arms. She leaned further away from him, if only to create more space.

  “And you. All I want is for you to make more silk. With a skill like that, we can both live very long, wealthy lives. You understand?”

  “And what of my friends?” Vel asked.

  “I’m not keen on feeding mouths that don’t contribute to our conquests. However, I’ll release them if it means your cooperation. If I don’t get that cooperation, however . . .” Erl leaned towards her, Vel arching her back just to move further away. “They’ll cease to breathe. You understand?”

  Clutching herself, Vel furrowed her brow, staring into the captain’s brown eyes. After searching those eyes for a lie she couldn’t find behind them, she slowly nodded.

  “Good,” Erl said, slowly leaning back, relaxing. “Now, what’s the cost of your silk creation?”

  “Cost?” Vel peeped quietly.

  “The magic cost.”

  “Oh.”

  “Come on, Lass, what is it?”

  Opening her mouth to answer, Vel paused for just a brief moment. No, she thought, deciding that she didn’t want to be honest. If she could get him to think she was actually weaker than she was after using [create silk], then that’d drop his guard and potentially give her the upperhand.

  [Skill gained: Investigate]

  [0.5 Acuity added]

  “I can already tell that you intend to lie,” Erl said.

  Of course you have some useful skill like that, Vel thought, frown deepening. “My legs give out after extended use of [create silk],” she answered. It wasn’t entirely true, and definitely not entirely untrue. Pushed to her absolute limit, everything gave out. She just didn’t want the captain to know that her skill wasn’t actually debilitating outright.

  [Deception level 2]

  “Hmm,” Erl hummed, looking over her face for an uncomfortable amount of time. “I suppose I could believe that. Means that the skill is tied to your strength stat then?”

  “Unfortunately,” Vel said, selecting her response carefully.

  [Deception level 3]

  It seemed to work, given that he didn’t look too suspicious. Or maybe his [investigate] skill was a low level? I doubt that, she thought, debunking that idea.

  “Very well. Until you can prove yourself trustworthy, you will sleep with your friends in the brig. Every morning, you’ll return here for food, then create your silks in my cabin. None will disturb your work here,” Erl said, then stood up. He bent over, lifting the table and placing it back in its spot. “When your legs give out, you’ll be carried back to the brig for more rest. You’ll do the same thing in the evening until you’re returned to sleep the night. You understand?”

  Furrowing her brow, Vel shook her head. “What is a ‘brig’?”

  Erl blinked, and the longer he stared at her, the more a smile crept onto his face. This amused him. “It’s a holding place, like a prison,” he said. “You haven’t been on a ship before, have you?”

  Vel shook her head at the stupid question. No, of course she hadn’t. What could have possibly given that away?

  “If you’ve not already, you probably at least won’t suffer any bouts of sea sickness, fortunately. Now,” he moved back to the couch, sitting beside Vel.

  I could stab him, she thought, right now. No one took my daggers . . . I could be the captain━who would stand against me, who . . . She couldn’t kill him. No, she’d never taken the life of another person, and the realization that she’d actually thought of doing it sent a shiver up her spine. Would I be me anymore? she wondered.

  “What is your silk creation level and rank?” he finished.

  “Does that matter?” Vel asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “What is the level, Lass?” Erl pressed, expression hardening.

  “Fifty.”

  [Deception level 4]

  “Lie.”

  “Fine, it’s seventy,” Vel huffed.

  “Good, no more lies.”

  [Deception level 5]

  Avenge you, jerk, she frowned, I just lied, and I’ll do it again!

  “Rank?”

  “One.”

  “Ah, lovely. A few days, and we’ll have that ranked up,” Erl said, lips stretched into a sinister smile. “Now, once you’ve proven your trustworthiness, I will begin to make accommodations for you. Better sleeping quarters for starters. Wouldn’t you like that?”

  “What I’d like is to have my shawl back,” Vel said.

  “I’m going to keep it. An example, if you will, of the size I know you’re capable of making,” he said, balling the shawl up and stuffing it in his pocket. “Besides, your hair is much too pretty to cover anyways.”

  Vel cringed, shrinking under his gaze.

  “Now, now, don’t be like that, Little Lass, I wouldn’t dream of━”

  “Call me ‘little’ or ‘lass’ one more time, and I’ll━”

  “You’ll what?” Erl’s voice dropped, “throw silk at me? Girl, there’s a difference between you and I. You spend your days indoors creating fine fabrics, and I spend them on the high seas with a sword in my hand. Threaten me again, and you’ll see how well that sword works against your boyfriend.”

  “Boyfriend?” Vel asked, blinking. “Sigurd?”

  “You two are courting, are you not?”

  “Courting!” Vel exclaimed, eyes big. “Him?”

  “I see I’ve read that wrong . . . Nevermind that,” Erl waved a hand, then reached for Vel.

  She stood before he could grab her, leering. I swear, she thought, I’ll do what I have to against this man. “I don’t need to be dragged to the brig; I can walk of my own accord.”

  Erl rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm anyways. She scowled, but thought it best not to provoke the man, not yet, at least. After stepping through the messy room, Erl opened the door, then shoved Vel out into Olave’s hold.

  Stiffening, Vel pushed against the slimy man, feeling her heart lurch as she so desperately wanted to be away from him. Olave made Erl seem favorable, if only for the difference in how the two looked at her. This man looked like he wanted to do something nefarious with her, his gaze moving up and down her form.

  “To the brig with her,” Erl commanded.

  “Aye sir,” Olave said. He held both of Vel’s arms while she continued to push against his hairy chest. His grip tightened, and he yanked her closer.

  That. Was. It!

  Curling her right hand into a fist, Vel threw it up towards his chin.

  [Unarmed Punch level 4]

  Vel yelped as a hand grabbed her thick lavender bun and tore her back from Olave, who held his chin with wide eyes. Great, all she did was surprise him. She couldn’t punch to save her life! At least now she had the freedom to move her arms around, placing them over Erl’s hand on her hair.

  “This is not cooperating!” Erl hissed into her ear, pain radiating through Vel’s scalp as he pulled on her hair. She scratched her nails across his hand, digging in enough that he shoved her away, Vel grunting as she hit the deck.

  [Metal Claw level 18]

  When she moved to push herself up, a weight pressed down on her back, and Vel gasped as she was pressed against the wooden dock, struggling for air. It was like Erl was pressing all his weight into the knee on her back, which shifted painfully as he reached over, pinning her right wrist against the ground. He pried her forefinger from her fist, lengthening it.

  “What is this?” he asked. “Metal nails? How did you get these?”

  Vel opened her mouth to speak, then wheezed in a breath instead. The pressure lifted a little, and she coughed as air fit in her lungs again. Then she clamped her mouth shut. What was she supposed to say? She could gain skills from monsters? That’d be just as unbelievable as any lie she told!

  “I don’t suppose ripping it out would tell me, hm?” Erl threatened.

  “It’d tell you that you just ripped out a natural nail,” Vel said, brow creasing. She craned her neck to look at his face, and cringed when she couldn’t manage to see it.

  Burn the ship, she thought. End this. You have the power to. Vel closed her eyes. She wanted so badly to do just that, but every scenario she thought up of her doing it ended with either her dead, or Sigurd and Amalia dead.

  “Then it’ll grow back?” Erl asked, and Vel opened her eyes, narrowing them.

  “If you want silk, I need good, uninjured working hands.”

  “Good thing I have a healer aboard then,” Erl said. “Someone bring me a pair of pliers.”

  “If you want my cooperation, you’re not going to get it by inflicting pain,” Vel said.

  “No, I’ll get it by threatening death to your friends.”

  You could fight. Slip into the shadows. Use your daggers, she argued with herself, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to, not when the danger over Amalia and Sigurd still loomed. You’ve suffered worse pain before, Vel thought, and whimpered as she saw the nose of pliers clamp onto her nail. She closed her eyes. Pain, when she knew it was coming, was far different.