Second part up! I've already started part 3, so no fears! Some people have been showing some concern as to whether I'd be dropping this story. The simple answer is NO. I'd never give up something I'm having so much fun writing in the first place. Besides, a few-chaptered story is not a huge commitment, so it's not like I'll get tired of this plot before the end.

Hm. I might upgrade this to a six chapters story, but that's just a thought. It depends on how many chapters are needed to tell the tale.

Anyhow, there's no real warning in here. Some Zelink feeling hot for each other. But that's expected and good, so who cares.

I wonder if anyone is actually reading this. Oh well.

This story is mostly for all those LoZ fans who are so depressed of late and seem to be letting the community slow down. Cheer up, people, it's not like the Big N is ever going to drop Twilight Princess. That'd be the dumbest move ever made by a human being since the beginning of mankind.

So come on. Spread the love, chaps, and hold on to your patience. It'll be worth it.

Warning: No warning. Because I said so, and because if you read the first chapter, then whatever. This can't be any worse.

Arrr, matey.

Privateer
Part 2: Treacherous Waters
By CM

Comparison between the uptight and elegant backdrop of the lady's life and the daily warmth and familiarity of the HMS Medallion was impossible to avoid. Here, she did not have a maid or valet at her every beck and call. Why, if she chose to lock herself in, she would find herself quite helpless indeed. And on top of that, the captain's crew had been far too improper to her, and that in the first few hours of the journey alone!

Already, five crewmen had offered her their warmth at night, and in not quite such polite words either. As for the few women onboard, they'd been friendlier, though ill at ease. If the difference in sex disappeared, that of status erected a tall wall to shut her out.

And now, a week into the voyage, she had stopped her attempts to understand the crew. They were far too different from her.

As for the young captain, the lady was even more put off. Their first encounter after the episode in the cabin had been less than proper. It had occurred the morning of the first travel day, and she had only just arisen. Hardly expecting to have company so early, she had ventured out of the bedchamber in her nightdress, hair put down and feet bare. The whole ship creaked around her, and the worrying sounds had woken her up earlier than usual. Dawn was hardly breaking outside her window.

There, ruffling in his parchment work, Link Forster looked haggard and focused. His hair was still ruffled from sleep, and his clothes were far simpler and less decorated than his previous captain outfit.

Upon her arrival, because of the floorboards creaking, he'd looked up, hardly even allowing her time to consider returning to the safe and respectable cabin she had only just left. She had gasped and crossed her arms without thinking, though she was dressed anyhow. Certainly less than appropriate, a propriety concept she thought foolish, as she was still quite covered enough.

All the lady managed to gasp was a troubled, "What are you doing here?"

The captain had raised a brow, but his face remained otherwise unchanged. The young woman did not miss his eyes as they examined her up and down in a fraction of a second, but he did not seem like he would comment.

Then, the corner of his lip tilted upward, and he asked, calmly, "Alas, milady, could you have chosen to socialize? I must say…" His eyes fell to her crossed arms over her chest. "… I did not expect, nor hope, that you'd be quite so generous in comforting a mere captain."

Zelda Harnian gasped with vivid indignation. She was speechless for a few furious seconds, then managed, "… You—How dare you—"

"Be at peace," Link Forster then waved, turning his gaze back to the maps spread out before him. "I was only jesting." She was still in shock and anger at his insinuations. He shot her a glance, then sighed. "Truly, milady, you must learn to be lighter on the matter."

"Were we in the old continent, you would have been disgraced and demoted to the rank of stable hand," she said, glaring at the captain.

He passively listened to the lady Zelda's warning, then shrugged and said, "As I doubt you will be returning to the old world anytime soon, I must, in truth and honesty, admit that I simply do not care. I have not forced myself on you, nor do I intend to."

"You did mention you would not spend time here," she said, angry more at being found in such a state than at him.

"Did I?" The privateer frowned. "Well, I did mention I would sleep with the crew, I suppose, but certainly nothing about my presence here during the day was ever discussed."

The lady glared at him once more. "I find you are most unpleasant, captain."

"And I find that you are far too stuck onto meaningless things. What shall you do, milady, if I decide to stay here all day? Bodily displace me? Why, that would be quite fitting, considering your foul mood thus far."

The lady said nothing, but he saw his diatribe has lashed out crueller than he had meant. She had winced at the injustice of his words, and now the privateer regretted it. He softened a bit.

"… I hope you slept well, for a first night." He had already seen her fast asleep, unable earlier on to keep from looking a brief instant upon the resting beauty. He knew she had slept fairly enough, though he also wished to hear her speak now. "Most passengers have a difficult start."

"I was fine," she softly said, still defensive. He regretted his verbal attacks now more than ever.

"And…" He forced a teasing smile. "That note the footman gave you… Will you truly not tell me what it was?"

The lady Zelda Harnian had refused then to answer him and had retreated to her cabin in embarrassment. When she'd come out again, simply dressed, the captain had gone.

The lady sat on her bed, a week later, feeling the roll of the hull under her, and skimmed the words on the piece of parchment her uncle's footman had handed her. Though she read it, she did not need to, for she had memorized it almost.

It was a note from Marth.

With a sigh and a sad frown, she turned to the window of the cabin, the only place she knew was free of other people's presence, the only place she felt safe, the only place where the captain and his crew did not seek her.

After the dreadful first morning, the lady had not seen Link Forster for another two days, and when she did spot him, it was scarcely and there hadn't been another conversation. She had tried to venture outside the private apartments, as loneliness and boredom had been eating at her, but the action and sneers of the crew had been unsettling, and she always quickly fell back to the captain quarters.

A woman by the name of Anju brought her food regularly, but there were never many words exchanged, and even less smiles. It seemed, to the lady's chagrin, that her reputation and standing had silenced all those whose hearts would have been wide enough to like her. Thus, this Anju brought her meals, without fail, every day, thrice a day, but nothing else.

And so, after a week, the lady Zelda had quite lost her appetite, yearning for more than mere food, hoping for company, wishing for—how it burned her mind to wish it—another word with the captain, the elusive privateer, whose sharp eyes and handsome smile never quite seemed to fade.

The lady sighed again, looking back down at the note clutched in her hand. Indeed, Marth's writing—it was his, no doubt about that—beautifully curved on the parchment, as though he hadn't once hesitated as he had written.

It was so very much like Marth d'Altea, in truth, to secretly have this note sent to her when it was too late for her to answer.

'My dearest Zelda,' he'd written. 'How my heart aches to think of you leaving for so far a place—damned be our fate, yet blessed be the land you grace with your presence, and bathe with your light. I've heard despairing rumours, and I found no occasion to meet with you personally. I fear our love has been discovered, and I wish not to fan the flames and put your reputation to ashes.

'It has not escaped my attention that my incursion into your life, however akin to paradise, has made both our reputations brittle. Despairingly, you and I both know our love was not to be. It pains me to say so, for a day with you was like a lifetime of joy, and I would have done all to protect you from our world's harsh judgements.

'Perhaps, then, my dearest Zelda, is this outcome best for both of us. As was decided by a cruel turn of fate, I must now wed my fiancée, and in your best interest, you ought to forget me. My heart is broken to write these words, but it is true. You must find the man your uncle will approve of—a man with decorum and wealth that match yours.

'Milady Zelda, you must never doubt the love my heart has given you, nor must you doubt my sincere intentions.

'With the heartbroken hope that you shall find the true happiness you deserve, I make you my final goodbyes.

'With love,' he had signed. 'Marth d'Altea.'

At first, the lady had wept, and then, the words had been deformed in her sleep, twisting around and shaping a message that said, grosso modo, that Marth was glad to be rid of her. The nightmare and fear and heartache had made her eat less and hide more.

Truthfully, a week into the voyage, the lady Zelda Harnian was beginning to wither. And so, it was with little visible emotion that she came face to face with the privateer captain once more, that foggy morning.

The scenario never changed did it? The handsome captain always appeared, seemingly from nowhere, at the most inappropriate or inopportune times, flustered her, then vanished to attend some other chore. This morning was no different. Why, she had barely even stepped out of her cabin that he was there.

It struck the lady, then, that the captain was quite tall.Indeed, her eyes came level with his mouth. She was not a dwarf, by all means, and she had considered Marth to be just the right height. They could look each other in the eye, after all.

But to see the captain's mouth from so close—the thoughts that came to her mind could have sent her straight to purgatory. Oh, for shame! Was she truly that lonely that she'd lose her mental propriety and dignity?

Never mind that. If he hadn't surprised her, she wouldn't have begun to compare him to Marth, would she?

The captain seemed to give her a once over, eyes staying longer than necessary on her weary face. She did seem drawn and pale. He worried that she was seasick.

"Are you well, my lady?" He asked, voicing his concern.

The lady's eyes snapped up to his, and he had to resist the urge to shudder. They were a sharp and pale blue, the kind to match the shallow waters of tropical islands.

Those eyes were not shallow, however, which was most unsettling. He saw fleeting emotions pass on her face, too quickly for him to identify them.

"I am well," she said, voice steadier than he had expected. She gave him a contemptuous once over, which was difficult considering their proximity. "I'd be far better if I could breathe."

He stepped away dazedly. Her eyes followed his movement expressionlessly. Damned! She was still beautiful, even after a week of poor conditions.

"What were you doing at my door?" She asked, suspiciously.

The captain was not a fool. Her tone snapped his thoughts back to where he knew they ought to be. Accordingly, he retorted with mocking detachment, "Why, obviously I was waiting for you to come out nude as the day you were born to make you enjoy your stay to the best of my ability."

Her shocked face was worth digging his grave. He reached up, intenton patting her shoulder, saw it was bare because her gown had slipped, and pulled his hand away, suddenly feeling warmer than he'd intended to feel.

If she saw the movement, she did not comment on it.

"More truthfully," the captain awkwardly said, "may I please enter my cabin and take a book from that shelf?"

The lady, still unable to find a proper retort, turned to look at the shelf nailed against the wall and looked back at the apologetic face of the handsome privateer.

"You may," she said, and to her embarrassment her voice was weak.

"Thank you kindly," he said, with the lilt of familiarity that he tended to slip into unconsciously, and brushed past her.

In a fleeting glance, he saw the rumpled covers of his bed, and resolutely turned back to his search, thanking his decision to wear long sleeves today, lest she see his shiver.

In an attempt to avoid falling into the unsafe waters of contemplation and daydream, the lady crossed her arms and looked at his profile, politely asking, "What are you looking for?"

The captain, surprised by her unusual pacifistic question, gratefully turned to look at her and shot her a wide smile. "I keep reference books in here. I usually don't use them."

The lady raised a brow, and he looked bashful. Ruffling his hair as he scratched his head—and now it looked worse than it already was, the captain admitted, "I usually remember things by heart."

"I see," she said, and though the tone was suspicious, he saw that she was not challenging his words.

He looked between the beauty and the shelf, and it seemed he had forgotten why he was there. He said, to the lady, unable to let the conversation die now that she had initiated it of her own will, "I was looking for the registry of all Her Majesty's ships." His eyes flew to the shelf, and he found the thick, leather bound book almost immediately. His fingers grazed over the used binding and golden lettering gently. "I… I am preparing a tactic and want to know their weak points."

The lady raised the other brow now. "A tactic against her Majesty's ships?"

"I could have meant to ally with them," the captain said, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You would not ally with anyone," she said with a certainty that surprised the both of them.

He laughed. "You are correct," he said. With a sigh and a roll of his shoulder, the captain said, "It's true I don't like sharing…" He looked at her, seriously now and finished his sentence after a contemplative pause. "… power, riches, fame and… cargo."

The way he said the words made her feel alarmingly heated. Yet, the lady did not allow the strange, creeping doubt to invade her mind and take control. She kept her face straight, her eyes glued into his.

"Are you plotting on betraying your home fleet?" She asked, straightforwardly, unwilling to have her deductions avoided by a well-played twist of words.

Link Forster, nose turned to the pages he'd flipped open, said nothing. She waited, and when she obtained no response, she huffed and left the doorway. He could stay in that minuscule cabin for all she cared.

Conscious that she was still only clad in her vague night robe, the lady Zelda could not stalk out of the captain's quarters so rashly. Ultimately, she had no choice but to stay in this larger room until he quitted her current bed chamber and she was allowed to change into decent clothes.

Vividly annoyed, the lady paced a moment before pulling one of the captain's chairs back and seating herself in it, throwing unnerved glances at her cabin door. She knew that, in truth, the small room was his, and not hers, but she had expected him to be a bit more respectful for her privacy.

Then again, it was his ship, and she was his… cargo, was she not? Quite obviously, the captain cared little for manners, despite how well he could fake them.

When he still did not emerge, she busied herself with sharp glances around the room. She'd already thoroughly examined it, and found nothing to occupy her idle and irked mind.

That is, she did not remember seeing that pistol in her past explorations.

Furrowing her brow and throwing a suspicious glare at the open door of her cabin, inside which the captain was silently turning book pages, the lady stood.

The ornate weapon seemed more decorative than practical, but as with all manly gifts, it was perfectly functional. It had been put down on a chest of drawers, probably forgotten as he had come in. She wondered if it had been stolen from the merchandise from personal greed or if it had truly been gifted to him.

Its holster was not far. Thread was richly embroidered in a leather case, and even she had to admit it was a fine piece of work.

Her fingers reached out uncertainly, wondering what the cold ornamental weapon felt like, whether the decorated body was still warm from the captain's touch. The pad of her fingers grazed the metal, feeling a single gold rose on the cannon. Her touch was incredibly light. She could have not touched it and felt the sharp electric shock of forbidden action anyway.

Truly, a woman touching a weapon was improper, especially if it was without the owner's permission. Still, she risked another featherlike touch, and caressed the ridges and decoration. She observed the way the light glinted off the solid body.

The lady went to pick it up, and in her hands, the solid weapon felt heavy. She examined it again. Carved letters were discernable on the butt of the pistol, and she saw the two initials easily.

L and F, and thus her suspicions regarding the captain's greed vanished. This was, without doubt, a gift to him.

She ran her fingers over the decorations again, knowing she oughtn't touch what was not hers, and yet unable to let herself ignore the ornate handgun. It was as though all at once the captain had become a mysterious stranger whose hobbies frightened and excited her both.

Heart beating fast with the awareness that he could find her with the pistol in her possession, the lady Zelda felt her stomach knotting up. It was fear and dare and curiosity mingled together within her. She could almost picture him wielding the gun, and her hand went to caress the ornate handle, as though she could touch his hand through it. She was not thinking clearly anymore, else she'd have realized what it was she was doing.

Her face was flushed, her hands were shaking now, conscious of the immense power the weapon bestowed upon her and of the intimate link it had with its owner.

Is she so pleased, a single pull on the trigger…

"Miss Harnian."

The stone cold sound of the captain's voice startled her far more than she had expected. She very nearly dropped the pistol, and yet she gripped it tighter and turned to the privateer, eyes wide, barrel trained towards his chest within the second.

To her surprise, all his good humour was gone, and she saw him look at the pistol. She turned it away from him in fright almost immediately. Then, his eyes moved from the gun to her pale, breathless face.

Without another moment's hesitation, he took a few long steps towards her, with assurance she felt she was lacking, and carefully took the pistol from her shaking hands. He placed it on the table behind him, and turned back to her as she moved as far as she could from him. Her eyes were wide, and they widened when her back hit the wall and she was left powerless before him. He took in her breathless appearance, and took one more step towards her.

They were nearly chest to chest now, and it seemed his closeness and emotionless eyes heightened her body temperature and made her palms sweat. He stared down at her, gaze passing from one blue eye to the other, looking at her golden hair and her partly open mouth as she took in sharp breath after the other.

His tongue flicked over his lips, and she did not miss the motion.

When he spoke, his voice was low, hoarse, in a way that reminded her of Marth's sated drawl after love. "Are you well, Miss Harnian?"

His warm breath fanned over her face and made her flush even more. What was this madness?

He didnot move still, and they stood face to face, nearly nose to nose. She could not understand where her annoyance with him had gone. It seemed all she could think of then was how close he was, and how easy it would be for him to take her.

His thoughts seemed to go in the same direction, and, as though he was straining himself, he moved away, averting his gaze.

"I meant," he almost choked, and he coughed to clear his throat, "That was my gun you held. Perhaps… You were not thinking of using it, were you?"

She could not find words, and instead shook her head slowly, eyes still wide, like a doe's. Her lips were still parted, luscious. He forced himself to look away and busy himself. He wished to fill the space between them. He found nothing else but words to fit his purpose.

"I…" he started, struggling against the tight grip of his entrails, "I saw you with… I thought you were going to…"

"I didn't mean to aim for you," she said, hastily, large eyes bluer than ever before.

"I… feared you should misaim and…"

They both lapsed into uncomfortable silence. It lasted a long, long moment as they lost themselves in their own thoughts. Then, the privateer captain ran a trembling hand through his tousled hair and let out a shaky breath.

"I apologize for not answering your question earlier." He pulled the chair she had seated herself on before over to her. She took it, feeling her legs were weaker since his intrusion. Once he was assured she would not faint—it seemed she was made of sterner stuff, thankfully—the captain made his way to the other side of the table, so they'd at the very least have the reassuring length of wood between them, and sat. "You asked me if I would rebel against her Majesty's fleet."

Senses slowly returning, she nodded, and her brow furrowed. Had he simply forgotten her presence, back in the little cabin?

"In truth, Milady," the privateer said, seeming to be regaining his senses as well, "I do not intend to attack my home nation's fleet. I do, however, intend to take down one of our Majesty's privateering frigates."

The lady said nothing, feeling as though he would not give her more information than he wished, no matter what her questions may have been. The handsome captain seemed lost in thought.

"The man's name is Knil Drake," Link Forster said. "Written with a k," he specified, as though she cared, "but pronounced like 'knee'." Then he frowned and glanced at the ornate pistol she had been handling before, as though to seek inspiration for a long explanation. Finally, he seemed to give up and said, to the lady, "His name on the ocean is that of Sea Devil, and his best coup was against the Lune Empress, on the eastern seas, many years ago." The captain's tone turned sour, then softened before she could ask him why.

He said, "It is not known by most civilians, but in the domain, his feats are as impressive as they are feared and synonymous with death. Of late, whispers say he has gathered many riches and could afford to become mercenary. Already he's placed a greedy hand on many of the home nation's ship cargos, and reported them to the capital to his name."

When she opened her mouth to speak, he said, answering her question before she could ask it, "He terrifies all crews. His presence at sea is as threatening as the deadliest storm brewing. His only scruple is to avoid killing his fellow privateer-captains, in order to avoid demotion. Even so," Link Forster looked angry and disgusted, "he never hesitates to steal merchandise from them for his own profit, and the lives of those he steals from are exchanged for their silence."

"But can no one resist him?" Zelda Harnian asked.

Link Forster shot her a small, mirthless smile. To answer simply, he said, "The Lune Empress' crew resisted and was brutally murdered; the ship itself pillaged before being sunk to the depths." His smile melted, and his voice seemed weakened. "None remain of the Lune's crew."

The lady watched the captain's tight-lipped frown and asked, incredulous, "How—Do the authorities not know of this?"

Link Forster's smile returned, still as mirthless as before, this time with a touch of irony in it that she could not miss. She found this smile displeased her very much, and she found it was very unlike him, and it unsettled her.

The privateer said, "Oh, they know, my lady. But what are they to do? Law should protect their fleet. They hate the idea of ridding the sea of the HMS Hammer. Imagine the dishonour for the nation, a nation who could not even keep its captains on a leash? A scandal. Asides, their hands are bound. Knil Drake may be the most immense bastard on the seas, he is still one of the best privateers and captains there is. What is a mere fleet to do against such a reputed and feared monster?"

The captain's tone had risen as he had said the words. He took a deep breath and settled down again. "Yes, my lady, they know. That is never enough."

She observed the privateer and wondered quite how much of his speech has gone unspoken, or had to be read between the lines.

Then, his eyes slid over the surface of the table and met hers, with their sharp, recognizable blue, and her heart rose to her throat.

As she realized that she was still only wearing her night clothes.

As though he could sense her sudden embarrassment, and completely against his will, the captain's eyes fell down to her bare shoulder. It seemed that sleeve never held up on that silky skin of hers, and his fingers itched to brush a gilded lock away from her neck, to see if her pulse was visible under her pale complexion.

She stood, and with the weak light from the windows that was so filtered by the unusually thick fog outside, it seemed she had become sagely and experienced, and by that, far more attractive than before. He remained motionless, though he was feeling less than torpid at the moment.

"And now," she said, "I ought to find some… more suitable clothes." Spots of pink had appeared on her cheekbones, and she looked beautiful. "That is," she said, "if you are quite finished with the book reading."

"I am," he assured her, though he fleetingly thought of asking to stay as she changed. Never mind that, he had a greater sense of honour to compensate for the lecherous way his mind kept urging him on to dangerous paths of thought.

With a tight-lipped smile, she moved into the small cabin and closed the door behind her. Outside the windows, it seemed the fog had thickened, and there seemed to be a shadow that surrounded them, bathing the whole ship in an eerie shade.

Link Forster looked over to the pistol she'd been handling, and wondered where and how she had learned to aim a firearm. He also smirked when he pulled the rumpled, small letter she had been keeping since she'd boarded the HMS Medallion out of his coat pocket.

He had been surprised not to find it within the cabin, actually. He had honestly meant to look through registries, but had suddenly been struck by the lucky opportunity to search for the intriguing note. As he had feared, she apparently kept it with her at all times. Truly, did this woman not trust anyone?

Evidently, she had made the appropriate decision, considering his quest, yet Link Forster found the determination to extract the letter from her against her notice.

In the end, old talents and new seduction had done the trick.

With detached interest, the privateer unfolded it carefully and scanned the lettering.

'My dearest Zelda,' he read with a sudden bitter taste in his mouth, 'How my heart aches to think of you leaving for so far a place…'

The more the captain read, and the more he grasped how much the letter meant to Zelda. This did not keep him from feeling righteous and possessive. Perhaps the lady did not consider the captain a protector, but he allowed himself that little fantasy.

'With love,' the captain finally finished the reading of the distasteful prose, to his relief, 'Marth d'Altea.'

His brow furrowed, trying to remember the name, but found he could not. Perhaps this Marth person was merely one of those new-rich sons with enough money to pretend but not enough to maintain. His lips stretched into a nasty smirk again, feeling giddy with the mental destruction of the stranger.

Then again, perhaps the man was something to look at, if he could seduce a beauty like the lady Zelda Harnian.

Link Forster folded the letter, stumbling back to contemplation.

He observed the thick, ominous fog outside with a growing sense of anxiety, but his mind kept returning to the young woman. The ship's creaks seemed louder, disturbing his thoughts.

The lady seemed like she had a good head on her shoulders. Surely she'd have known better than to fall for a betrothed man, wouldn't she? Unless d'Altea had been sneaky enough to deceive the fair-haired beauty, the captain could not explain the mystery.

He was so focused on his thoughts to notice that the lady was back in the room and had seen him with the letter. Her face was pale and drawn, eyes pained. He noticed she had pulled on a bluish grey dress that still outlined her bosom perfectly—he couldn't help it, really!—and had tied her hair summarily, loosely enough that some strands still fell to frame her face.

No matter the level of letting-go she allowed herself, the captain found her still as stunning.

"He was the one who taught me to aim," the lady said, softly, eyes glazing over.

The privateer said nothing, unsure of what to say, which was happening all-too often of late, especially in her presence.

"I knew he was to be married," she said, voice breaking. "But he showed me such kindness… He kept me company when my Uncle and his father had hunting afternoons. And he showed me how to aim and fire. He was so steadying, so warm, so soft, and after a few months… I couldn't help it."

Link Forster, at that moment, felt shared between comforting Zelda and calling her a poor fool. Men did not fall in love so easily. It was lust that bound them to a woman without complaint in the first instances.

While Link had known many women, he was unsure of how a woman fell in love. In his opinion, they allowed it far too soon and easily, and thus were broken before their time. A woman in love could be far more beautiful than a woman in lust, but in turn unrequited lust never hurt much more than a needle prick.

Instead of telling her the words that scorched his throat, the captain said, "I'm sorry."

"Have you ever loved before, captain?" She asked, eyes distant as she avoided his questioning gaze. She too seemed to notice the fog outside, though it did not seem to worry her as much as it made him feel antsy. There was slight commotion coming from the deck outside.

He observed her, and said, truthfully but without visible emotion, "Never, my lady."

"Can men love, captain?"

"I'm afraid they can, the poor saps," the privateer said with a weak smile. "But only when their time comes."

The lady nodded, as though she accepted this. Her mouth opened again to ask him something, but a knock resounded at the door to the quarters, and the privateer frowned, feeling as though the growing uneasiness that had pulled at his gut all morning was at last going to have something to be directed at.

"Come in," he said, and the lady closed her mouth demurely.

In the creaks of the ship, a tall, lanky looking man entered. His eyes were sharp and he seemed to be the type to keep calm as necessary, though he was breathless. Zelda Harnian did not know his name or face, but the captain acknowledged him with a nod.

"Mikau."

"Capt'n." He did not wait for Link Forster to question him. Apparently there was commotion on the deck and the lady felt the agitation get to her suddenly, like a handful of cold water. " 'Tis the Hammer, sir. It's appeared from the fog! We couldn't—It was—silent—It's—"

It seemed then that the world blew, as though a cue had been given and the previous semblance of silence turned to chaos. There were shouts and cannons firing. The ship suddenly seemed to groan loudly and there were loud snaps and screams from somewhere below. The captain's eyes widened. He uttered a curse that would burn any proper lady's ears.

"Mikau," he said, "keep her safe!"

With those words, the captain holstered his gun and made to run out of the quarters, all the while cursing fog and gut feelings. He knew Mikau would keep the lady safe, but for how long? His worst fear had come to life. Of all the times and travels, did it truly have to be this once?

There was a struggle on the deck, but the fog was so thick he hardly saw what was happening ahead. Immediately he took out one of the men he did not recognize. Surely, it was one of those who had boarded his frigate.

Anytime now he'd come face to face with the man he despised most, and he knew that his crew's experience far outweighed his own. He should have known.

He should have known the Sea Devil never let his guard down. And that was why he barely had time to take out his pistol and aim at his opponent's face before he froze and saw the inside of a pistol cannon identical to his that bore the initials 'K. D.'

Knil Drake.

That's part two! Review if you liked!

Love,
CM