Elmira stood with her back pressed against one of the ship’s thick masts as the sun began to caress the horizon, arms crossed tight across her ribs. She kept her weight on her good leg, the other aching with the thigh cramping painfully. Her shoulder throbbed where a harpy’s talon had torn through armor and flesh alike, even though it wasn’t bleeding anymore. A cracked rib flared with every breath, but she kept still, eyes sweeping constantly across the pier, down the narrow alleyways between the warehouses, straining her senses.

It was too quiet.

Every creak of shifting timber beneath a distant step made her heart twitch. By contrast, Tam looked like he’d just strolled out of a tavern that still owed him drinks. He emerged from the captain’s quarters and tossed a small vial toward her with an underhand flick. Elmira caught it on instinct, blinking as the glass caught the soft mage lights. Pale liquid shimmered within, a low-grade healing draught, maybe, but potent enough to stitch a few things back together.

"Figured the ship hadn’t been entirely looted,” Tam said, sauntering over and resting one shoulder against the mast beside her. “Found that in the captain’s locker wedged between a love letter and half a bottle of black rum. You’re welcome.”

Elmira raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t drink it?”

“I considered it,” he admitted. “But then I thought: ‘Hey, maybe El would appreciate not bleeding internally.’ You’re getting a bit pale, love.”

That wasn’t the bottle she’d meant, but she held her tongue and uncorked the vial, downing it in one swallow. The taste was bitter as old bark, but warmth flushed through her limbs almost immediately. Her shoulder tensed, then relaxed and the pain in her ribs dulled from sharp agony to a manageable ache.

“Better?” Tam asked, watching her sidelong as the haze cleared.

“Enough,” she admitted, capping the empty vial and slipping it into her bag. “Thanks.”

He settled in next to her, whistling a sailor’s tune, eyes roaming the waters and the docks alike. His green hair was a mess, his coat still dusted with the remnants of last night’s smoke and spilled drink, but he wore the same lopsided grin as always. Except his foot tapped, just once, against the dock.

“You’re tense,” she said, not looking at him.

He flashed her a crooked smile. “Am I? I thought I looked rather dashing.”

“Like a stray dog on its last leg,” she said, voice dry. “You think this person will actually show?”

“I think he’s the kind of bastard who loves to make an entrance,” Tam replied, brushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

“You’re disappointed.”

“Am I?” he said with mock surprise. “Why would I be?”

“Cause you’re not the one hunting.”

His grin was crooked as he shrugged. “Saved me the hassle, ought to thank him if anything.”

“If you say so,” she said and left it at that.

When the color of the sky shifted from pitch black to navy blue, a shape emerged near the dockmaster’s tower. Then another. And another. They seemed to materialize from shadow as if they were made of the stuff. They came in twos and ones, silent figures wrapped in cloaks and travel coats, eyes darting, feet careful on the planks. Elmira tensed, hand falling toward her blade, but Tam straightened all charm and confidence.

“You sure about this?” she murmured, eyeing the approaching figures.

“Nope,” Tam said cheerfully. “But look how dramatically they arrive. That’s got to count for something.”

Elmira shook her head. “You are crazy.”

“Crazy enough to ferry you,” he replied and for a moment another side of him appeared before being drowned by the bombastic charm he wielded like a weapon. He waved at the first of the shadows moving up the plank. “Orwyn, old chap! I see you’re not a disappointment yet again.”

Orwyn was none other than the same man who had approached them with the offer of a crew. Elmira grit her teeth, fighting the urge to punch that satisfied smile off Tam’s face. This was a game to him. Her blood boiled, but she too was more than a rogue. So she straightened her back and plastered on a small smile as she watched.

“You didn’t think I’d let you sail without a proper crew, did you, Captain?” Orwyn said as he paused just before the plank hit the deck. “Permission to come aboard?”

Tam paused with a mischievous grin before he laughed. “Naturally, good sir! Welcome aboard! One and all.”

Orwyn returned the grin with a graceful nod that revealed a noble upbringing. “Thank you kindly.”

When his boots hit the deck she noted that he looked exactly the same as he had the night before, same clothes, lean and sharp-featured, eyes too bright. Like he’d stepped out of a well-cut nightmare. He turned, and the first of his recruits came forward.

“Let me introduce your new best friends.”

At the front was a woman in a dark green cloak, her steps delicate, blue eyes sharp enough to shave the edges of a coin. She pulled back her hood to reveal soft half-elven features and a reddish blonde braid bound tight down her back. A longbow sat across her back, polished and worn in all the right places with a string of silver wire.

Tam nodded. “Rina Varanthis,” he greeted her. “Still putting arrows through things no one else can see?”

Her eyes found Elmira, then flicked back to Tam, cool and calculating. “This still the same wave-skipper?”

“You know it! Wanna be my gunner again? For old time’s sake?”

“Well it ain’t gonna be him,” she said and jerked her head towards the docks.

Behind her came thunderous footfalls that made the plank groan in protest. A figure appeared, wide as a barn and twice as solid.

Orwyn gestured towards him by way of introduction. “This is Marlo, the Bull. You point, he breaks.”

Tam grinned. “That’s the kind of attitude I like in a professional. Unless it’s my ship of course, then kindly don’t.”

Marlo was a minotaur mercenary, horns tipped in brass, his armor scuffed but solid. He carried an iron crate under one arm like it weighed nothing.

“Told you I’d come if the pay was right,” Marlo said in a voice like thunder. “This time, don’t make me throw you overboard.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tam said, holding his hands up. “Twice is fine enough by me.”

Marlo grunted and walked past, boarding the Sphynx with a slow, deliberate stomp. He did not even acknowledge Elmira where she stood but went straight below deck.

Next, a flick of movement was all she caught before a blur of fur and color appeared without a sound. The tabaxi thief’s cloak barely rustled as she stepped up beside Elmira, eyes glowing like coals in the half-light.

“You’re lucky I was bored,” Jessa purred, eyes darting to the captain.

“Wouldn’t dream of interrupting your busy schedule,” Tam said. “Stabbing nobles in their own wine cellars?”

She showed teeth. “They tip well.”

Orwyn paled a bit but composed himself quickly with a laugh. “And she is the best cook I know.”

Elmira’s eyes flicked over to Tam, her suspicion deepening by the second. “How do you know all these people?”

“Professionally,” he said with a small shrug, “and often under duress.”

Fair enough. Next came a scruffy-looking elf with emerald tattoos spiraling up one arm and a toolkit that looked like it had been stolen from a military engineer’s locker. “Nix,” they quipped, not offering a hand. “I do machines and engines. Don’t touch my tools. Don’t talk while I’m working.”

Elmira gave a curt nod. That one she could respect. The fifth was a goblin, short, thin, with goggles too large for her face and a contraption slung over her back that looked equal parts bomb and backpack. A bundle of mismatched clothes and entirely too much enthusiasm, the goblin grinned like she knew something she shouldn’t.

“Hi,” she said cheerfully. “I’m Lint. I like fire.”

Elmira stared. Tam gave a small cough. “…Useful fire?” he asked delicately.

“Mostly!”

He clapped his hands once. “Alright then.”

Elmira shifted, uneasy about the people who came aboard one after the other. It wasn’t that they weren’t capable, they looked it. For the most part. It was that this was all happening too fast. Too clean. It had the taste of something scripted.

Though it appeared as if Tam, for all his lounging and quips, was watching just as carefully. It was the way his gaze lingered half a second longer on each recruit that told her this man was not just a dimwitted goon she’d picked up in a bar. That perhaps she would not regret the decision to not scout around more. Though the jury was still out. What convinced her to lend him a little more of his trust came when he adjusted his stance to keep himself between her and the new crew.

He wasn’t as relaxed as he looked. He just had practice wearing the mask. Gods knew she could relate to that. Heavy steps brought her eyes back to the plank just as a man jumped the final distance to land on the deck. Bringing up the rear was a lean half-orc, taller than average, with a beer belly, light green skin, and two white tusks growing out of his lower jaw. One of them chipped from what looked like a recent fight. A brass astrolabe hung from his belt, and a rolled chart was tucked beneath one arm.

“I checked your last course, Winmore,” he said by way of greeting. “It was suicidal.”

Tam’s cheer did not even flicker. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

“That’s not the same as good,” the man said flatly, walking past his new captain who tilted his head with an odd look on his face.

Orwyn leaned in towards Tam. “That’s Okurac Skiffben, the best navigator in Varu. Thought you’d appreciate a fellow ocean born.”

Tam clapped his forearm. “You thought right, old pal.”

Okurac paused as if noting Elmira for the first time. “I know stars,” he said simply, meeting her gaze. “I know water. And I don’t get lost.”

Good to know. She returned the nod and he disappeared up towards the quarterdeck to unload his charts and inspect the navigational tools at his disposal.

“Perfect,” Tam called after him. “I get lost all the time!”

“Consider your crew assembled,” Orwyn said with an aloof kind of smile that made Elmira think of her peers back home. “We sail when you say so.”

Dawn was well and truly on her way now and the docks were beginning to wake up for another day of hard work. Whatever storm was coming, it was too late to turn back. But it did not stop Elmira’s stomach from churning. Crews didn’t just show up. Favors didn’t come free. Yet here they were, all armed, dangerous, and experienced in ways that gave her both comfort and pause.

Tam let out a low whistle as the surveyed the newcomers as they gathered on the deck. “Well, look at us. Almost looks like we know what we’re doing.”

“Well,” Orwyn said, clasping his hands together. “You’ll find them loyal... when the coin is good and the winds don’t turn sour.”

Tam bounded up the stairs two at a time, planting himself high enough to see the whole deck. Every inch the famed captain of the Scarlet Sphynx as a gust tugged at his green-streaked hair, coat flaring like a banner behind him, boots planted wide and steady. He grinned like the tide answered to him alone. “Welcome aboard, everyone! Mind your heads, watch your hands - she bites. Dawn’s here and so is the tide. Let’s bring her out!”

The crew sprang into motion with practiced efficiency. Some had clearly sailed before; others just faked it well enough to pass. Ramps were hauled in, gear loaded, and stations manned. Tam took his place on the quarterdeck as Okurac and Orwyn boomed commands across the deck. He looked up at the Sphynx, his face catching the glow of the approaching dawn, every sail in the harbor blushed in its rising light.

“Alright, girl,” he said under his breath, his hand on the wheel. “Time to wake up.”

He turned to Elmira. “Ready?”

She exhaled slowly and nodded once. “Let’s see if she remembers how to fly.”

Tam grinned. “This one never forgets.”

The brigantine creaked as the mooring lines were loosed. The solar silk sails began to unfurl, catching the first golden strands of the morning. The hum of the shattersteel inside the hull stirred, slow at first, then building, like the steady heartbeat of something vast awakening. The Sphynx groaned, shuddered, and then lurched. Not all at once, not clean, but with the stubborn grace of a clockwork bird shaking off years of rust. The docks fell away behind them, the sea stretching out like a mirror laced with gold.

Tam leaned on the railing beside Elmira. “Well then,” he said, voice light but eyes razor sharp. “To Oliria?”

Elmira, wind tugging at her coat, took a deep breath as Inner Varu fell further and further behind. “To Oliria.”

It took her by surprise when Tam suddenly threw an arm around her and leaned in close, voice soft at her ear. “You’re thinking it’s too smooth.”

“I’m thinking it’s a trap.”

“Good,” he said, winking, squeezing her shoulder. “Let’s have an adventure, eh?”

Above them, the sky cracked with amber and citrine and ruby, and their journey, wild and uncertain, began. The Scarlet Sphynx turned toward the open sea, her sails outstretched and filled to the brim, her hull gleaming and her crew assembled.

Morimyr was about to remember just who Tam Winmore was.