Prologue:

"What are you doing," Kim demanded?! "I essentially gave you one of my finest ships. Your operation blew up on us and accomplished nothing!" The wax-hustler grimaced. Their situation was grim just now. His agents in the east had utterly failed to secure any of the abandoned war-machines. Melinda had delivered up Prince Jay to them, but that appeared to have been more a trap than anything.

In polite tones, Gordon responded, "I'm making moves to secure our way forward. And you?" The dog-icorn spat curses. "We still have some of the captured death-metal from Princess Beautiful's kingdom," Gordon rumbled. "We still have agents in the palace, keeping tabs on Finn's activities. In short, we're still in this game, Mr. Rainicorn. Rome wasn't built in a day. Be patient. Hold up your end of things. You do want to be Prince of Dogs, yes?"

With muttered curses, Kim Kil Wan hung up. One problem down, another dozen to go. Turning to his council, Gordon growled, "alright. Where's fucking Melinda?" "Captured," responded Howard Jones. "It appears that her mission in the Glass Kingdom failed." "Dammit," snapped Nickie Reed. "Alert Eisthir," Gordon rumbled. "Do we pull her," asked Howard?

Gordon spent several minutes pondering that. Eisthir was in a good spot with a good cover. She was feeding them good information on the goings-on on King's Island, and she had a credible plan for assaulting the castle there. "No," Gordon decided. "We'll make preparations to ex-fil her if things turn, but she can stay for now."

Moving on, the spy turned to Luigi Garibaldi. "Where do things stand in the Bandit Lands," he asked? "We've got Lord Enzo on side," Luigi announced. "He's already persuaded Lady Cerelia to let him take charge of security over Finn's reactor. He's already putting in place measures to allow him to divert electricity towards weapon production. We have the stolen blueprints for the Jungle Kingdoms' spear weapons plus the special modifications that Prince Gumbald created. We're in good shape, sir."

The master spy turned to the window of the airship. They'd been trying everything they could manage to defeat Finn the Human. They'd been playing to their strengths instead of going straight at him. As he'd told the madman, Gumbald, they weren't soldiers. Gordon didn't have an army.

At the same time, none of their usual gambits were working. Finn's people, for the most part, were fanatically loyal. Hints of bribery had all gotten shut down with terrifying speed. The Warrior Princess had brutally executed three men who'd hinted that she stage a coup against the Ice Queen.

Gordon's agents hadn't even been suggesting a move against Finn. They'd been suggesting that Princess Ingrid move on a rival. That was the way things were played in the dim, distant past, after all. Royal Wives often played games of power against each other, removing inconvenient heirs in order to advance the claims of their own offspring. It was rare to see such harmony in an emperor's bedchamber.

They'd seen signs of disharmony when the alien, Roselinen, appeared. That had somehow gotten quashed, and efforts to stoke new tensions were falling on their face.

"There is the matter of Princess Dowager Odessa," remarked Harry Travis. Gordon's face snapped over to his. Straightening his tie, Harry reminded Gordon, "she has complete control of the Empire's food supply, sir." "She's treacherous as a snake," Luigi muttered. "I'm not sure we dare trust her not to turn on us."

"She's making moves," Harry responded. "She's making dangerous moves. There's hints that maybe she was working against the nymphs and their games with Finn's bastard daughter." "Why," Gordon responded? "Treachery," Luigi interrupted. "She's running her own game, sir. The nymphs' scheme conflicted with something she was doing."

Turning to face the pair, Gordon rumbled, "what is her scheme? Do we know?" "Could be as simple as wanting leverage to benefit her own kingdom," Harry responded. "Nothing's so simple at this level, Harry," Luigi retorted. "You don't play those sorts of games, when you already have enormous power."

Gordon could see both men had their points. "Find out," he commanded. "I need to know what she's up to. I need to know how we can influence her scheme to benefit our own. No contacts, yet." The pair acknowledged the orders. Though they weren't allies, much less friends, they typically got work done without drama.

As the ship's clock chimed for eleven on the Red Wind, Calixte Allard took up her sea-coat in preparation for heading out on deck. Watch-standing on a pirate-ship was much the same as standing watch on any other sailing vessel across the face of Ooo. It was a job composed of equal parts boredom and fatigue. Halfway through the night, you'd be slugging down coffee to fight sleep and even slapping yourself.

More than one watch-officer had ended up going for a bracing walk in the cool night air. The one difference? On a merchant ship you got fired for falling asleep. On a pirate-ship, you might get your throat cut, if the captain got angry enough.

Time f'er d'at walk, Calixte thought, as she stepped out on the deck. She was hours from being relieved, and with the Captain climbing the walls in fear, this wasn't a good time to screw up. As the deck officer of the Red Wind paced in boredom, a strange figure alit. The middle-aged woman spun about at the sound of soft moaning to find their mystery guest standing there, wobbling like he'd been on a bender and drooling. Before she could react, the Topman smacked him across the back of the head with a belaying pin, dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

"Wot d'hell," growled the deck-officer. The sailor responded, "thought he was lookin' t'get acquainted." That was a hazard of the job for a female pirate. There were men who thought to slip onboard for what they saw as paradise—a ship full of nothing but women—little realizing the danger they faced. And there were pirates who looked to maybe rob their colleagues of any treasure they had, thinking that girls couldn't put up a fight.

The deck-officer rolled the injured man over, finding him out like a light. Eying his disheveled appearance, the topman burbled, "why he dressed like d'at?" Her boss rolled her eyes. Hell if she knew. "Take 'im down t'the cabin. Put some nighty-night drops down his gullet, while d'captain figure what to do next." The last thing she wanted was to have an angry wizard decide to smoke the ship because of a misunderstanding.