The Hurters’ signal flags snap hard in the wind, and Arnold’s baited route is now a funnel. Funbain’s blockade vessel swings broadside, just as the marked coins are shown to the harbor line.
Then the horizon darkens again. Grizzly Bones warships rise out of the chop like blunt verdicts, calm and immense, and they do not slow for the Fun Police.
Arnold’s trap holds. The tracking chain has dragged Funbain into the Hurters’ pressure, and the bears’ arrival turns the net into a snare from both sides.
The Hurter Scout
Aye, there he is, snug as a post in a sheepgate. Now the big fellows have come to collect their own grievance.
The Local Representative
So that is the line. Three harbors, one coward, and now bears. Delightfully rude accounting.
On Funbain’s deck, his crew scrambles under the first Grizzly Bones boarding hooks. The blockade that hunted Arnold is breaking apart in public, and the trail back to the tracking network is finally visible.
Captain Arnold Runner
The network is exposed.
Below the rail, Master Beltran goes pale at the sight of the bears boarding the wrong ship, and the Hurter line tightens around the harbor mouth, waiting for Arnold’s next command.
Dismantle the tracking network
Contend with the Grizzly Bones' territorial ambitions