In the brig, salt air and wet timber cling to the walls. The confession page sits pinned to the ledger, and the harbor list is folded shut beside it. Captain Arnold Runner faces the shackled Captain Funbain, while the Quartermaster stands ready to cross-check every word.
Captain Arnold Runner
You tracked my cargo. Start talking.
Captain Funbain
Tracked? No, Runner. I counted you. Those marked coins are not payment. They are breadcrumbs for anyone worth finding.
The Quartermaster
The list matches the tally marks. Three harbors, each one a stop, each one a signal. I do not like the shape of that.
Funbain’s cold stare shifts as the Quartermaster opens the harbor list. The names are not ports for trade. They are choke points, laid out like a noose around the route Arnold follows.
Captain Funbain
You thought you were tracing a buyer. You were being guided into a pen. Every harbor on that sheet is meant to split your crew, one ship at a time.
The Quartermaster taps the ledger, then the coins, then the list. The pattern snaps into place. The route was never a market trail. It is a trap with paperwork.
The Quartermaster
So that is the purpose of the list. Not commerce. Isolation.
Funbain lifts his chin against the shackles, but the brig feels smaller now. Outside the door, a muffled shout carries from the deck, and the next page waits in the ledger.
✓ Quest Accepted
Learn to sharpen weapons from Funbain
“Arnold flashes a dagger, "If you will not talk about that, I'll give you something to talk about." He does not start to use it yet.”
SUCCESS (Great Willpower, rolled -1)
Arnold flicks a dagger up under Funbain’s chin, not touching, just letting the steel catch lanternlight. The brig goes very still.
Captain Funbain
That look suits you better than mercy. You want the sharp edge, Runner, then learn who taught the route first.
The threat works. Funbain’s grin thins, and he nods toward the ledger without moving his shackled hands.
Captain Funbain
I did not build the net. I only baited it. The masters wanted your habits, your ports, your little habits of greed.
Captain Funbain
The list, the coins, the marks, all of it goes to a buyer who never boards the same deck twice.
The Quartermaster’s pen scratches once across the page, sealing that confession in hard ink while Funbain’s eyes stay fixed on Arnold’s blade.
Captain Funbain
If you want the name, follow the paper trail to the harbor master’s seal. That is where the real hand shows.
✓ Quest Accepted
Identify the harbor master’s seal’s owner
“"Actually I was just going to ask you how you keep your weapons in mint condition. I just sharpened this blade this morning," he runs his paw over it, "still so dull you could sit on it safely, and I've taken off so much already. Here, feel it," he holds the blade near Funbain's paws to assess.”
SUCCESS (Legendary Intrigue, rolled +1)
Arnold lowers the blade a finger, then turns it broadside so the dull edge catches the lantern glow. The brig stays hushed, but the air loosens, like everyone has been invited to lean in.
Captain Arnold Runner
Actually, I was going to ask how you keep your weapons in mint condition. I just sharpened this one this morning, and it is still so dull you could sit on it safely.
He drags a paw along the edge, then offers the steel nearer Funbain’s shackled hands, casual as a dockside buyer showing off cloth. Funbain’s ears twitch despite himself.
Captain Funbain
You hold a blade like a man who means to own the room. Let me see it.
Funbain shifts forward and tests the edge with a careful thumb, not enough to cut, enough to judge. His expression changes at once, from mockery to professional appraisal.
Captain Funbain
That is serviceable work. Too much patience on the stone, not enough bite in the angle. Whoever taught you wanted safety, not fear.
The Quartermaster pauses mid-line, pen hovering over the confession page, while Funbain looks from the knife to Arnold’s face with grudging respect. The ledger stays open, the harbor list folded beside it, as if both men are measuring what kind of captain Arnold plans to become.
Captain Funbain
If you want a weapon to frighten a boarder, you sharpen the inside of the curve first. If you want it to last, you listen to the steel before you grind it down. Here, show me your grip.
“Arnold grips each blade as if he were going to sharpen the dull one "I'd hold it like this, but I've taken off so much already, is the blade still good?"”
SUCCESS (Superb Fencing, rolled +0)
Captain Arnold Runner closes his fingers on the two blades, one dull, one keen, and sets them side by side like a lesson at table. He angles his wrists, showing the grip rather than the bite, and lets the steel rest easy in his hands.
Captain Arnold Runner
I would hold it like this, but I have taken off so much already. Is the blade still good?
Captain Funbain
Good enough. The steel keeps its spine if you do not bully it. Your grip is clean, too, but you are still talking to the weapon as if it owes you obedience.
Funbain shifts his shackled paws, tracing the line Arnold shows with a butcher’s precision. The Quartermaster’s pen moves again, but slower now, as if the confession page has become a ledger of finer debts.
Captain Funbain
A blade answers pressure. Too much angle, it skates. Too little, it drags. Let the edge meet the stone, then listen for the hiss. If it sings flat, you are wasting time.
Captain Arnold Runner
The first cut matters more than the force behind it.
Funbain nods once, grudging but exact, and the instruction settles in the brig like a new tool on a workbench. The confession page stays open beside the harbor list, while the Quartermaster writes down the last of Funbain’s words without looking away from the two captains.
“"Hmm, like this?"”
SUCCESS (Superb Fencing, rolled -1)
Captain Arnold Runner turns the lesson into action. The dull blade tilts, then the keen one answers beside it, edge lined to edge like a clean seam in sailcloth.
Captain Arnold Runner
Hmm, like this?
Captain Funbain
Closer. You are finding the plane now. Keep the wrist soft, and let the stone do the work.
Arnold adjusts once, and the angle settles true. The cutlass sits in his grip with less waste, less drag, the blade already looking meaner for the lesson.
Captain Funbain
That is it. Sharp steel is not bravado, it is patience with a point.
The Quartermaster pauses his pen just long enough to mark the moment, then scratches the line into the confession page beside the harbor list. The ledger makes the truth look official.
Captain Funbain
As for the seal, it belongs to the harbor master only in the way a key belongs to the man who turns it. The buyer is larger than the port, and cleaner than the men who carry the messages.
Funbain leans back against his chains, the instruction spent, the memory of the network now plainly bigger than his own command. The brig stays quiet, waiting on Arnold's next question.
Quest Complete
Learn to sharpen weapons from Funbain
Skill Upgrade: Fencing Superb→Legendary