Grace walked into the Third Bank, her pistol cocked and ready at a moment's notice. She wasn't going to rob the place, that was bad for business. No, she was simply getting ready for the next yahoo to jump out at her, set on robbing her. The man behind the counter was gruff, built like a tree.
He wore a ragged shirt and smelt faintly of gin, but he was in charge of the bank. He was mashing the keys of his typewriter, no doubt filling out a letter informing someone that they had defaulted.
"Grom, it's me." The man stopped his work, looking up with a mist of confusion. His eyes slowly panned up to meet Grace's own, filled with a lazy look of irritation. His mind licked into gear and he sat up, cracking a sad smile before standing. Grace grinned before holding up a small brown box, she tore the packaging and showed it to the bank clerk, the face of one of the Lost Dyarchs and below her crisp face were a few simple numbers: 99,9B. The clerk's smile grew and he threw his arms wide.
"... Oh! Shelia! Right, follow me." Grace groaned at the name but followed the man, her hands falling to her sides and away from her weapons. Grom pushed open a door off-set behind him, Grace ducking under the counter and popping up on the opposite side. GRom glanced back at her before actually going in.
"I take it you know exactly why I'm here?" Asked Grace as she followed the towering man, his shoulders nearly brushing against the walls lined with iron hatched boxes.
"Yes, yes. You're Iron Box. Kept 'er nice and safe for the pretty missy." Replied Grom as he stopped suddenly and bent down to the floor, peeling away a section of the warn rug laying on the floor. Grace tried to lean and peak at what he was doing but he stood back up and kept walking. Grace raised an eye brow, reaching for her pistol and clasping it's grip.
"That's right, you got the key?" Asked Grace as she slowed her pace, making sure not to lag behind.
"Aye, does you?" Asked Grom as he stopped and turned, leaning against the wall with a tiny bronze coloured key in his grasp. Grace pulled on the metal stump of her pistol, pulling it free of the wood and revealing the teeth of a key that was hidden within.
"Aye." Grom slowly jabbed the bronze key into the right slot, violently cranking it to the right, a thin clink sounding as he did so, Grace followed his lead, be it with much more grace. The turns for her needed to be done several times, pulling the iron lock through the door and into the wall. With a thunk, she was finished. The door creaked open as she let got of the key, revealing a near pitch coloured interior. A single golden locket sat on it's floor, a stark white gem shimmered from the little light that had come through the doors and the setting sun.
"Now that you have yer things, this box mine again?" Asked Grom as her crossed his arms and awaited her answer. Grace reached into the box and dropped the trinket down her shirt, turned away from Grom and striding out.
"Oh yes, I'll just leave this here a down payment for your service." Replied Grace as she walked out the door, ducking under the counter and leaving her payment on the candle lit desk. A small brown package, filled with Royal Stamps. Each were nearly a hundreds bits each, but worthless to someone who couldn't cash them. Grom shook his head closed the box, leaving it unlocked for the next buyer. Grace strode out of the Third Bank and turned to the west, the sun slowly sinking into the sea before her eyes, her ship The White Seahorse sat bobbing in the twilight, her heart leaping just as it did the first time she had seen it.
Grace sat in the tavern, a cup of ale in her grip as the sound of her merry crew enjoying the night and all the island had to offer. It was late and she was meeting one of her contacts. The locket she retrieved from the lockbox was in her grasp, the thin metal chain rubbing between her fingers and her thumb, the pendant handing lazily just above the table.
About half way through his fifth cup a large man, completely covered in tattoos and scars walked over to her table and sat down, hiking his boots onto the table and leaning back into his chair. Grace ignored the man for a time before finishing off her ale and looking lazily up at him.
"Captain Storms... What brings you to my table this... fine evening?" Asked Grace, motioning for a refill and another for Storms, she knew why he was there but they rarely talked since she got her captain's ship.
"Well, my little bird sang me a song. Once of the royal navy, of fire, and of a 'hole lot of loot. I've come for the second act of this show you've begun." Replied the gruff man, his violet eyes sharing with a fire behind them as he spoke, his grin wide and his sharpened canines bared. Grace remembered why she got her own ship, this was not a man you'd want angry.
Smirking, Grace tossed him the locket, he grabbed it without even looking, busying pulling the barmaid into his lap and the drink from her hand. He popped it open and looking inside, he made a face to the photo inside, closing it back up, tossing it on the table and took a drink of his ale.
"Recognize anyone?" Asked Grace as she picked up her cup and leaned back, taking a sip from her sixth cup and eyeing the girl on his lap.
"Yeah, that's the cut who gutted our old cap'in." Growled Storms as he ran his hands over the girl's body.
"Well yeah it is, but you know who the kid is? That's his son, and want to know something else? I've seen him! In public, just wandering around. See, no one but you and I and a handful of others even know he has a kid. Say we take a trip up north, make a little stop and grab the kid, sail back down south, send a letter to dear old dad letting him know his kid is safe for a measly some of... say 12 tons off silver and gold?" Asked Grace as she finished her cup, paying more attention to the girl on Storms rather than him.
Storms remained silent, seemingly have tuned Grace out in favour for the barmaid's attention. "6 tons is a lot for one cap'in... and say the cunt brings a small fleet? The Everfree is big but she ain't no Emperor class, she can't take on a fleet no bigger than 5 ships." Replied Storms as he pushed the barmaid off of him, whispering something into her ear before he pulled his feet down and turned to face Grace.
"Exactly, we need another man'o'war, but who do we trust who has one?" Asked Grace as she took another drink, her cup seemingly magically refilled.
"No one, we don't trust each other." Replied Storms right before he took a large swig of ale.
Grace smirked and replied without missing a beat. "Exactly, we're going for someone who's strong enough to watch our backs but weak enough to know, they're not gonna survive a fight." Storms eyes went wide as he looked down at the locket, a heavy sigh escaping him as he thought about who she could be talking about.
"McCoy?"
"McCoy."
Storms groaned and slumped into his chair, finishing off his ale and slamming it down onto the table. "Let me guess, he's right behind me and he's "so excited to be a part of this raid!"" Mocked Storms as he sat up, and as if on cue, footsteps loud enough to be heard over the sound of the tavern were heard, and felt.
"Grace! Storms! Great to see my old friends! I must say, glad to be apart of this raid!" As McCoy say down the amount of people in the tavern doubled as his crew joined in. McCoy was huge, towering over Storms by a few feet and easily as wide as Grace was tall. He wasn't the brightest captain in the seas but the thinking was down by his first mate. A dark skinned woman sat down beside McCoy and passed him a large cup of ale, forging on for herself.
"What dis I 'ear of a raid?" Her accent was think enough that ship cannons couldn't bust through. She wore her hair long and braided on one side and shaved down on the other. Her entire left aside was covered in tattoos from all over the globes, marks of the Royal navy and southern Empire adorn her arm.
"Stars, good to see you. Grace wants to raid a town in the very heart of the Royal waters and steal one sodden kid, she says we'll get a haul of 10 tons in silver and gold." Storms finished and took a drink of his ale, eyeing Grace for her reaction.
"Great! We leaving in the morning?" Asked McCoy as he placed them empty pitched of ale, his smirk having turned into a wide grin at the sound of all the silver.
"Woah! Woah, you what? Sail into the 'eart of royal waters and steal a kid? 'ho's kid? Why we stealing 'em?" Asked Stars as she placed her hands on the table and stood up, saking the table slightly.
"You remember the captain who bought and freed you?" Asked Grace as she swirled the ale in her cup, looking down at the locket on the table.
"Yes, how could I forget The Reaper, he is legend. What dis have to do wit' 'im?" Asked Stars as she looked at Grace.
"This kid is the son of the cunt who managed to best him in combat." Replied Storms as he picked up the locket and opened it to show Stars and McCoy.
Stars took the locket and one could feel the heat of the room rise as she looked into the eyes of the photo. Fire and hate danced behind her eyes, her muscle rippled with anticipation.
"So what's the plan? Full assault on the town and reduce the place to ash, hoping the kid isn't part of the piles?" Asked McCoy as he placed new cups of ale around the table.
"Close, I know where the kid's estate is. It's on the far northern peninsula of the island known as Port Iron, on the west side there is a wall of guns that'll reduce even an Emperor class ship to wood chips. To the east of the island is the jagged straights, no ship bigger than a Brig can sail though their without the will of the sea gods guiding it. That leaves the southern beaches, and he's the catch with those." Explained Grace, using the candle and cups to explain her plan.
"The fifth, eighth, and fourteenth fleets all dock there for three days and there is only one maybe two days where a few ships guard the island." Replied Storms as he looked down at the maskshift map.
"I 'ear that those few ships are always man'o'war and once I 'ear there was an Emperor class." Chimed in Stars as she rubbed her forehead, looking at the mess of cups and knives.
"Yes, but that's where we have them divide their forces, cutting them down on the island and sinking those man'o'wars and if there is an Emperor, have it chase one of us ships into the lines of sight of the west wall." Replied Grace as she leaned back and picked up a cup of ale.
The table remained silent, even Storms seemed to think this plan was not going to work. "If we come in from the north I doubt we they'll just let us sail in, what if they North is just as armed as the west and out ships get chewed up?"
"The cannons are set for large targets, big ship no smaller than man'o'wars. My fleet can get though, and if you pray really hard, yours might make it thought those rocks." Replied an unknown voice. The entire table, minus Grace, turn to face the voice.
It belonged to a man just as big as McCoy, he wore a helmet that covered the upper half of his head and his thick beard masked the lower half. He wore thick, dark pelts and small bits of metal could be seen beneath the fur. He was flanked by men who looked just like him, except their beards were of slightly different hues. At their sides were long straight swords, they looked heavy and thicker than the ones carried by officer of the navies. The man walked over and sat down, his men standing behind him, folding their arms and looking straight ahead, over Storm's head.
"My name is Jarl Ulv-Lahti, I'm a northman and these are my men. Bjorn and Asger. We will take a cut of the loot, plus all that we find on the island. You're men are to not step foot on the island, if we find them they will be cut down like weeds in a field of wheat. Am I clear?" Asked the man, his demands almost reasonable.
The table remained silent, focusing on Grace and trying to get an angle on what she was planning. The night took a while to die out as the near six hundred men and women Ulv-Lahti had brought with him. All the while, Grace's main concern was where Pip was.