We'd cleaned up the place quite a bit since we moved in after Qrrog assumed the title of Pirate King, nearly a year ago. The old Pirate King was a nasty piece of work, and after our victorious showdown with him, Qrrog dismissed the few pirates who refused to take up the new king's ideals. The rest liked my husband's style far better.

"Mornin', mateys," Qrrog bellowed amiably as we strolled into the great hall. A rousing round of cheers greeted him in reply, and the two of us saw to the spread of various foods at one of the tables.

I made a beeline for the fruit. "Oh yum, we got some oranges in." I began to pile my plate with fruit and thick slices of sweet brown bread.

"And more bacon!" Qrrog's plate began to resemble a mountain of food as he took one – or two – of everything. "Aye, but those folks in Corpolk sure spoil us."

Now, do understand—we're not really pirates in the proper sense of the word. We don't engage in actual piracy, or any other illegal business. In fact, we have an alliance with no less than the Archadian Empire, thanks to my clan's being all buddy-buddy with Judge Magister Gabranth—we even get to call him Basch. So we're pretty much strait-laced swashbucklers.

Case in point: we now protect scattered coastal villages from actual injustice, and in return they give us a share of their produce. Considering the fact that our home base is an isolated stone fortress in the middle of the ocean, this works out quite well for the both of us.

But being a pirate is a point of pride for my husband, as well as the other seafaring adventurers in our tiny realm, so the term stays.

"Good morning!" Coele chirped as we sat down at the table hosting the rest of our clan. The gria resettled her draconic wings on her back before ripping into a raw steak with gusto.

Next to her sat Saskia, her lapine viera ears tilted at different angles like two furry antennae. She gave us a quiet smile as she sipped from her mug of chamomile tea. Further down the table, our resident engineers seemed to be bickering over a schematic spread out between them. Vasily's crocodilian bangaa jaws snapped while he muttered something and scribbled a few notes around the drawing. Winnifrith Edilvert Mortlock – you can see why we just call her Winn – placed her tiny moogle hands on the table and grinned smugly, clearly having won this round.

This motley crew, currently missing its newest member, is Clan Excelsior. Saskia is the leader of the clan, and she prefers it small and exclusive, so it's just seven of us and looks to be that way for the foreseen future. Qrrog wanted to recruit all of his subjects into the clan, but Saskia put her foot down at that point. So we're kind of a dual operation, here—Saskia runs the clan, and Qrrog runs the pirate kingdom.

Saskia did make one exception, though.

"Mail call!" A large, swarthy hand tossed a packet of letters in front of my husband. "Time to pay the bills, you ol' sea dog."

Qrrog laughed and punched the arm of the black-bearded revgaji mailman. "Can't it wait 'til after breakfast, Jihl?"

Our seventh clan member smirked as he rounded the table. "Thought you'd like some readin', mate. Always nice to catch up on the news in the mornin', right?" There was a teasing twinkle in his blue eyes as he pulled out another packet of loose papers. With a bow and a flourish that made the coattails of his trenchcoat sway dramatically, he presented the papers to Saskia. "And for you, milady, clan business."

"You're too kind. And too flamboyant." Saskia accepted the mail with a stoic roll of her eyes, but she couldn't disguise the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Jihl was Qrrog's old quartermaster back when my husband was a pirate captain – the real kind of pirate, not our goody-two-shoes knockoff variety. Before I convinced the seeq Viking to end his life of crime via a Holy spell to the face.

He's totally over that, by the way. We still joke about it sometimes. It makes a great "how I met my spouse" story, at any rate.

Anyway, once Qrrog and Jihl were reunited here on Worgen Island during our ousting of Bloodblade, the two became as tight as brothers again. Besides being a master of logistics and organization, Jihl's also a registered Dragoon and a fearsome foe in his own right, which was probably why Saskia relented and accepted him into the clan.

At least, that's what she says. I have my suspicions otherwise. For obvious reasons.

Vasily looked up from his own "light reading". "Saskia, y'know I could just fly in some clan postin's for you. Why make Jihl go through all the trouble of collectin' 'em when he's on shore?"

"She doesn't make me," Jihl sniffed, pulling up a chair next to Saskia. "I enjoy it. I picked you out some good ones," he said as Saskia began rifling through the postings.

"Thank you," Saskia said levelly. She pretended to look preoccupied with shuffling papers and sipping her tea, but a few times she glanced over at the revgaji and color came to her dusky cheeks.

Qrrog and I said nothing, but grinned at each other.

The viera stopped shuffling and her snowy eyebrows rose. "This is interesting."

When Saskia says a posting is interesting, that's our cue to stop eating our breakfasts and stare intently at her, awaiting details.

She looked around at her rapt audience, detachedly enjoying how she had us all held in suspense. "The Great Land Festival in Camoa starts tomorrow."

Winn groaned. "That's not interesting, kupo!"

"I ain't sservin' drinkss there again," Vasily grumbled. "Lasst time I bloomin' near bit a bloke'ss hand off. And not on accident, neither."

Saskia waited for them to calm down before she looked back to the paper. "No one will be serving drinks. It appears to be snowing in Camoa, and volunteers are wanted to discover the cause."

I wrinkled my nose. "Snow in the middle of summer? Could it be a rogue Black Mage or something?"

"If it were that easy," Qrrog mused, "they woulda found 'im by now."

Saskia smiled. "Qrrog, have you all of your realm affairs in order?"

He saluted her with a strip of bacon. "Aye aye, ma'am!"

"Kupopo," Winn sighed, mulling over the schematic. "I wanted to work on this design more, kupo. I think we're really close to a kupo breakthrough!"

Vasily reached over and patted her head. "We'll bring it with uss, pipssqueak."

Saskia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes like a cat looking pleased with itself. "We shall set forth after breakfast, then."

"Whoopie!" Coele said, punching the air. "I hope there's time to attend the festival after we're done! I just love all the games they have! And the vendors sell the cutest stuff!"

With a grin, I looked around at my oddball family. "We really do make a great team. Heh, it's funny how there's one of us for each Ivalician race. We're rather well-rounded."

"Well, except the nu mou," Jihl pointed out. He stabbed a knife into his steak, but when he saw Saskia glance at him, he hurriedly switched to using his fork.

Coele nodded. "Oh, and the aegyl." She began counting off on her fingers. "And the urutan, the garif, the yensa… And the baknamy, although I don't know if they count…"

I laughed. "Okay, okay! I meant each race in Jylland." Our region of Ivalice was certainly diverse, but there were a few races not as well represented here as in other parts of the world, and very few out of them were looking for clan work. "So we're really just missing a nu mou."

"Bah, who needs 'em," Vasily snarled, snapping up a string of sausages. "Arrogant blokes with their stubby gray noses stuck in spellbooks. Think magick's better'n technology and think they know more'n anybody else."

Qrrog chuckled. "If you want a nu mou clanmate so bad, Brighteyes, there's always that ol' Sage we fought in our duel with Bloodblade."

I winced. "Nah, I'm good. Besides, I don't think she'd join us even if we paid her a million gil. Not after I turned her to stone." Once the petrification had worn off, she'd been one of the first to leave and we hadn't heard from her since. Which I took to be a good thing, because she was a nasty piece of work.

Coele gulped down her orange juice and jumped to her feet, her wings flaring. "Welp, I'm ready! C'mon, let's get this show on the road!"

Jihl grinned. "I haven't been to the Great Land Festival in ages. Saskia, let me know if you want a prize from any of those shootin' games, and I'll win it for you."

"You seem to have forgotten," Saskia said with a faint smile, "that I am a Sniper." As she rose from the table, she pantomimed drawing her greatbow and firing with the easy grace of an expert markswoman.

The revgaji chuckled. "Right, er—I'll stick to the throwin' games, then."