Night was deepening over Loneport, its long sprawl of docks lining much of a lonely island that sat in the middle of a far stretch of sea. Many who docked there were not seeking a fight as supplies were too precious to come by, and so for this Loneport was made a longstanding neutral port, neutral being the preferably operable term. It was a place for crews of all creeds to make land without fear of mutiny or scrutiny, an oasis in the ocean. That was, until some captain of the Free Men decided to make it their own, at least for a little while. Yet that was not its destiny this night.

  The moon was beginning its climb and the air was mellow. A soft warm breeze tugged clouds at a tortoise pace across the sky. Valgur and his crew pulled Ye Ol’ Marigold in to dock alongside a platoon of other vessels. They weighed anchor with no ill intent. All, save for one cunning ploy. Valgur rolled onto the dock with many of his crewmen. Ahead, to his surprise was a man he recognized. "Oi. Is that Royce? By the depths, I haven't seen you since yer stint on Fine Island. Never know who y’might run into in Loneport. Is Bucannon here as well?”

  Royce stiffened visibly at the sight of Valgur and stopped his rope work for a moment with practiced caution. “Nay, he ain’t here.”

  “Don't worry lad, I'm not gonna pinch ye,” said Valgur as they approached. “We're only here for beer and barmaids. Plundering can wait till morn," he said, laughing raucously with his men as they passed. Royced nodded to them, yet continued to eye them warily as they passed.

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  Behind them, two shadowy figures slipped unnoticed off the main deck of Ye ‘Ol Marigold and crept across the dock to the sure line of a merchant vessel tied opposite them. Scuttle led the way while Picaro was careful to step only where the man had just done so, and with the same degree of care as to not make any inconsistent groaning of the floorboards.

  "Stay quiet. Yer a lookout is all," said Scuttle as they approached anxiously. He did not wish to have the boy along at all, but Valgur had made it clear to him it would be a good test of the boy’s skills now that he was old enough to take part. Scuttle did as his captain bid, albeit resentfully.

  The pair scaled the side of the merchant ship. A lookout was aboard, as there were many other lookouts aboard other ships along the dock, for to thrive in the briny sea merchants needed to be as tough as pirates, or tougher. They paid good coin for men willing to risk their lives in service to a ship and its goods. And so men ported here, but still under heavy suspicion, unwilling to give up their back so easily, even in a place as agreeable as Loneport. Those who let their guard down got their neck slit at sea.

  Rolling sounds of fresh revelry drifted to their ears as Scuttle and Picaro dropped silently onto the ship's deck. The pair of rogues evaded the lookout, who stood vigilant. Yet they quickly found there was nothing of note aboard the vessel. Nothing worth risking to steal. Just many empty barrels and a relatively barren cargo hold. The ship had likely set sail from Parley for some far destination and needed speed. So Scuttle and Picaro moved on.

  How it started:

  

  
• Samuel O. Ludescher