Before we begin, I should mention that in addition to diving headfirst into the pirate genre, I've also gone ahead and genderswapped everybody. As a result it's gonna feel pretty far removed from a normal RWBY AU since almost nobody is recognizable, but I do ask that you at least give it a chance. These scalawags might just win you over.


Smoke covered the stars.

Old Sammy would've been cross if not for the fact the fire was coming from the Company ships. Let 'em all burn. Buzzards, the lot of 'em.

She wasn't close enough to see the men going to and fro between the dock and the invading vessel, but the smoke covered every part of Port Noble; there was no escaping the stench of Hell itself. The Haven and the Shade were as good as ash, but sadly the Beacon wasn't in port tonight. A shame, that – she would've enjoyed seeing the flagship of the royal boot-lickers go up in a blaze of glory.

Old Sammy had seen her fair share of brigands and lowlifes in her time. Hell, she'd even let a few of 'em enjoy her company back when she wasn't known as 'old' Sammy. Bandits, pirates, common thieves, you name it, she's probably boned it. Heh… those were the days. Now all she made love to was the occasional bottle of hooch.

Tall shadows clomped by her alley, jarring her from her thoughts. She glimpsed steel on their belts. Pistols and swords. One shadow took a gander the wrong way and caught sight of her, his bearded face dimly lit by the distant fires.

"Well now… what 'ave we 'ere? A right lovely peacock, says I…"

Sammy blinked at the voice. There was something familiar about it. "Oh don't you try and sweet-talk me, ya big lummox," she croaked from her corner. "I know a man with clink when I sees one; go buy yerself a pretty to warm up with. Leave me old bones to die in peace."

"Pennies for a pretty any a day, but an old bird like ye… ain't no man can afford that," said the stranger. His gleaming white smile shone even in the dim light. His beard, which glowed red from the fires, gave him a macabre appearance. Like he'd just eaten a man whole.

"Be gone with ye, I dinnae want any fuss," she said. "Leave old Sammy Gria to the crows."

"That I shall, m'lady," the man gave a deep bow, even taking off his tricorn hat for effect. "But n'er let it be said that Captain Red Bone dinnae treat his elders with respect. A parting gift for a true lovely…" The bearded man reached into a bag slung over his shoulder and produced a bottle that Sammy instantly recognized: Old Haddock Whiskey. She couldn't stop her mouth from watering. He gently set the bottle down next to her and bowed again.

"I'll hang if they catch me with this," she cried.

The man winked, "Then dinnae let 'em catch ye. I happen to know the south gate is near abandoned right now… be a shame if a culley got away 'afore the Navy dogs could catch 'em…"

Sammy coughed a laugh, "Kekeke… yer a right bastard, Bone. Off with ye! And never shall ye die!"

"Aye," said Captain Red Bone. His silver eyes gleamed in the light of the full moon. "Never shall we die."

"I'd hang you myself if I wasn't short of men!"

Admiral Harper growled as he paced, boots clomping across the boards of the dock. All around them sat the ruins of the Port Noble pier, once the pride of Vale but now reduced to a few broken buildings and several piles of ash. The loss of the warehouses was minor, however, when compared to the destruction of two entire battleships. Queen Ozma would not be happy about that.

Lieutenant Walter Schnee winced but remained quiet. As the eldest son of the noble Schnee family, he had joined the navy early in life and quickly proved himself to be officer material, but now he faced a situation that could see his tenure come to an unceremonious end; pirates. More to the point, one pirate. If not for his poor luck with being stationed here, the Lieutenant would have been looking at a promotion in the coming weeks. Instead he'd be lucky to walk away with his life.

"Captain Red Bone…" Schnee said mostly to himself, then louder for his commanding officer, "…Why would he have come here? There are far better targets with more loot and less risk-"

"More than likely to prove a point. To show us that we mean nothing to him," Harper stopped pacing and stared at the open seas, hands clasped behind his back. At least his voice indicated he'd calmed down. "The audacity of that man continues to amaze me. What is his current bounty?"

Schnee thought for a moment, "I believe it is currently set at… 10,000 Lien, sir."

"Make it 20," Harper pointed at the Lieutenant, "I want this man brought in and hanged, whatever the cost. I'll hire the bloody devil if I have to."

"Speaking of that… some of my men report the White Fang heading this way. Should be in port by tomorrow…"

"Ahh, Captain Amitola," Harper finally smiled, though the expression was one of grim amusement. "If he's on Bone's trail, this hunt might be over within a week. The White Fang is the fastest Man-O-War in the fleet."

"Is he good?"

"Good?! Amitola has had more success battling pirates than all of my officers put together," Harper finally turned away from the sea and started walking back into town. "If anyone can bring in Bone, it's him. Report to HQ and prepare the bounty payment."

Schnee gave his best salute, turned on his heels and took one step before a seaman came running up, gasping for breath, "Urgent report from Lady Gelé, sir!"

"From mother?! What is it? Speak, man!"

"It's… it's…"

It's funny… these pirate ships are much bigger up close.

Sunlight glittered off the waves as the Emerald Princess drove forward, off to destinations unknown. Salty winds pushed her sails hard, the ropes straining against the various masts like great leaves in a forest. The sky above was an unbroken blue, clear and beautiful, with only the edge of clouds visible upon the horizon. It was a wonderful day for sailing, in other words.

Not such a good day to be caught as a stowaway. Then again, is any day good for such a thing?

A young man stood between two burly pirates, each with a sword in one hand and one of his frail arms in the other. Another stood nearby with pistol drawn, snarling, "Ye must 'ave balls o' steel to hide out on this fair ship, laddie."

The boy lowered his voice as far as he could and replied, "I didn't intend to be found, you know…"

"Hope yer better at hidin' in hell. The devil be lookin fer a new bit 'o kindlin'…" the man with the gun pulled the hammer back and took aim-

"Belay that!"

A new voice caused the man to instantly lower his pistol and manually release the hammer, quickly holster the weapon and step back. Neither of the other two men let go as someone who could only have been the Captain approached. He wore a great coat of reddish-brown leather, far more ostentatious than any of the other men on deck, and his thick-soled boots made a mighty clomping sound as he came forward. No peg-leg or parrot to be seen, which was mildly disappointing.

A great reddish beard sat upon the man's face, and it curled into a grin at the sight of the prisoner, "What's all this then? I dinnae remember hirin' a new cabin boy…"

"Ee's a stowaway, sir! We found 'em pokin 'round the cargo."

The boy in question grunted as he tried to adjust himself, but the men holding him would not budge. His clothing was anything but seaworthy – long gray trousers and a white shirt with billowy sleeves – but they would do in a pinch. His head was covered by little more than a badly tied-on handkerchief. Most notable were his eyes, a cold, pale blue color that anyone in Port Noble would recognize. Hopefully these brigands weren't so keen. "I can be your cabin boy, or whatever you please," he said, still trying to keep his voice low in order to sound older than he was. "I'm a fast learner. I know my way around ropes and rigging. I can even cook. Please… just don't send me back to the port."

"Hmm…" The tall man with a tricorn hat rubbed his hairy chin, still grinning. Those odd silver-colored eyes of his were locked onto the boy, studying him. "A ship is a man's world, culley. A fair breeze might snap ye in twain. Methinks you'd be worth a pretty if I pawned ye off instead…"

The boy's stomach fell into his shoes.

"Bwahahaha!" The Captain of the Emerald Princess gave a hearty laugh. "I'm jes foolin ya, culley. Old Red Bone dinnae trade people fer clink. T'ain't right, says I."

"So you'll keep me on?" The boy couldn't resist letting himself get worked up. One of the men holding his arm gave it a hard squeeze, causing the boy to yell in pain.

Captain Red Bone stepped forward, grabbed the man's wrist and pulled him free. "Easy now, me johnny… that's no way te treat a lady."

"With all due respect, Captain… they have my sister."

"With all due respect, Lieutenant… I don't care."

Walter Schnee faced a man a full head shorter than himself, but no less imposing for it; Ilya Amitola was easily recognizable for his dense freckles and long, curled ponytail of rust-red hair. His record was possibly more notorious than that, as Admiral Harper was not exaggerating; a full 12 pirate ships had gone down under his cannons in the last year alone. That number was unheard of in this day and age.

Lieutenant Schnee gritted his teeth but said nothing more. Captain Amitola outranked him by quite a bit.

All around them swam an ocean of men, balding heads and bare feet stomping around the ship to keep everything working. This was a crew that knew what they were doing, and to them, Amitola was akin to God. Any trouble would no doubt see the young officer having a lengthy swim back to port.

"At ease, Schnee," the shorter man finally said. "I'm not heartless. We will get your sister back, and most likely unsoiled."

"But is this Red Bone not a pirate? The stories-"

"-Only apply to the less civilized marauders of the sea. I've studied our target for some time, Mister Schnee; our friend Ross is what we would refer to as a 'gentleman pirate.' Your sister is quite safe."

"Ross…?"

"His real name," Amitola smiled as he glanced over at the charts. On them were quite a few lines that Schnee had little to no knowledge of. "I've been hunting this man for a long time, Lieutenant. I know his movements. His patterns. And now that he's dared to strike Port Noble, this hunt is over. The time has come to put an end to the chase."

"You clearly have a plan," Schnee fidgeted slightly. "If I may ask… why then did you insist on bringing me aboard?"

Captain Amitola cleared his throat, stepping closer so he could speak more quietly. "My informants tell me Red Bone made off with quite a large supply of something known as 'Dust' in his last few raids."

Schnee felt his stomach lurch.

"I am privy to much of the Navy's intelligence, but this subject is new to me. And new things are dangerous, both to me and my ship. I would have you share what information you have, since Admiral Cordovin recommended you as an expert on the stuff."

"You are right to be wary, but I would not say I am any sort of expert," Schnee cleared his own throat, "My family is a trader of Dust all over the world, so we are well-versed in its form and function."

"That is all I require," Amitola stepped back, smiled broadly and gestured along the deck. "Come, let us retire to my quarters so I may hear all about this Dust of yours. Worry not; my helmsman knows where to take us."

The boy(?) stumbled as he(?) entered the lower room, Captain Red Bone right behind. "What… what are you going to do to me?" he(?) cried.

"At ease, culley," he said with his deep, slightly grating voice. "You'll have no trouble from me or my men, says I. Yer pretty head is under my protection long as you remain on my fair ship."

The handkerchief had been removed, revealing a head of silvery-white hair that fell just below the ears, curled slightly at the ends. It was nowhere near as long as it had been once, often tied in a loose ponytail that came down to her waist, but that was before Whitney Gelé took a dagger to it. She had decided to abandon her name and family to find a new life for herself. Funny that the very night of this decision was the same as the night Port Noble was attacked by this particular band of pirates. There wasn't time to think it all through, never mind form a plan. She had one opening and took it, damn the consequences.

"Yer a Schnee, ain't ya?" said the man with the red beard. "I know those eyes anywhere, cold and hard as the southern ice floes."

Whitney looked away, "What if I am? Will you abandon me? Toss me overboard?"

"I ought – yer family's been naught but a blight to the men of my trade – but I gave my word and I means to keep it. I won't even let a seagull shit on ye, never mind throw ye to the sharks."

Against her better judgment, the former Schnee giggled. She cleared her throat and reasserted herself, "Your kindness is appreciated, Mister Bone-"

"Ross."

"…Pardon?"

"The men call me Red Bone, so too does the Navy and every wanted poster from here to Menagerie, but me name's Ross. Robin to me kin. Pleasure to meet ye, Miss Whitney Schnee," he took his hat off and made a deep, exaggerated bow.

Whitney felt her face grow hot for a moment before she suddenly remembered she was a woman on a ship filled to the brim with half-naked, murderous men. She covered her chest with both arms and took a step backward. "Tell me, Mister Ross… how long until we make port again?"

"Well that depends," he replied as he replaced his hat, a wide-brimmed slab of oiled leather with light gray threading the brim, all of it bent into three distinct notches. "We just hit the Navy's main Port of Call, but so far me lookout ain't seen a single canvas on our tail. It looks like we weren't followed, but I don't trust to fickle chance."

"Am I to be your prisoner?"

"Hardly. Yer free to come and go as ye see fit, but mind yerself around me johnnies – if they think yer more trouble than yer worth, well…"

"'Johnnies'?"

"Me crew. They won't take too kindly to havin a lass on board, it's bad luck. But me word is law round 'ere, so mind yer manners and we'll have no trouble, savvy?"

Whitney blinked at the strange words, but eventually nodded, "S-Savvy. Oh, just one more question…"

"Aye?"

"How did you know I was a woman?" Whitney took a moment to straighten out her trousers, "I'm reliably told that I'm indistinguishable from my brother, Wesley."

"Aye, ye certainly fooled my boatswain, but I've seen my fair share in and around these waters. I knows a lassie when I sees one; yer shoulders are a touch too narrow, and yer hips a bit too wide. We men are built by the good Lord above for hard labor, not child-bearin."

Whitney looked away again, her face getting hot, "I… see."

"You jes make yerself comfortable, culley. We'll have ye back on dry land 'afore ye know it."

"So Lieutenant… your family trades in Dust?"

"It was Mother's idea. She was far more of an entrepreneur than Father or Grandfather, so when she took control of the company… nobody tried to stop her. She runs it pretty much by herself with an iron fist."

"Sounds like a scary woman. Your old man… William, was it? What's he up to nowadays?"

"Drowning himself in as much red wine as he can get his hands on."

"Heh, I can relate."

"Trouble with the wife?"

"That's putting it very, very mildly. Be grateful your only attachment is to the security of this Kingdom, Schnee. Now then…"

"Did you need me for anything else? I've given you all I know-"

"At ease, Walter; I merely wish you to consider the future. I can see you have a good head on your shoulders, and Harper knows it too. When I have Ross' head on a platter to present to the Queen, what say you to coming onboard my ship? I could use a good First Officer like you…"

"I'll… consider it."

"Please do. In the meantime, we may as well go over my plan before dinner's ready…"

Two long days passed on the Emerald Princess. Whitney was indeed allowed free reign of the ship, but she took the Captain's advice and kept her presence to a minimum. Any time the men needed to do something as a crew (usually with a lot of shouting and running about), she stayed well clear. Only when everything was calm and quiet did she dare set foot up on deck.

Oddly, it was only during these excursions that the man Red Bone ever seemed to take a rest. Whitney was allowed to sleep in his quarters during the night, but she fully expected to be taken advantage of… yet he never touched her. He rarely ever shared a room with her aside from meals, and even then he made sure to leave her plenty of space. In spite of his occupation, he very much appeared to be a man of his word. Amazing.

Whitney emerged from the bowels of the ship on the morning of the third day which, according to the Captain, was the day they would make port on an island he would not name. It was there they would send her ashore to do as she pleased. Whitney hoped to get a look at the distant land before they arrived, but was disappointed to find the ship engulfed by a bank of fog. The sun had come up, but it would be some time before this amount of murk would be burned away; progress would be halted until then. A blind ship was a ship racing to Dani Jones' Locker, according to one old freighter Whitney had listened to several years ago.

The ship's Boatswain was nearby, busy tying some knots while keeping a wary eye on the fog. She hadn't spoken to him at all since he held a gun to her face, but hopefully that was behind them now. "Is all this… normal?" She gestured to the white all around them.

The Boatswain – apparently called Gray if she'd heard right – looked over and scowled, but didn't tell her off. "Aye, it is… thought not so much at once."

"How long have we been stopped?"

"A few hours, methinks." Gray put down his ropes and stood up, knuckling his back. "I don't like it. First we hit the port and don't get followed, now this… I don't like it."

"Hmm…" Whitney leaned against the rails and tried to strain her eyes, but it was useless. The fog was too thick. "Amazing… we could be right next to another ship and never know it."

"Aye. Hence why we hold until it clears."

On a whim, Whitney waved an arm through the fog and smiled when it left a clear spot. "Good thing we aren't being tailed right now. If you sailed through this, you'd leave a trail even a blind seagull could follow."

"A trail… … …ye gods."

Whitney looked back to find Gray looking a bit panicked, eyes darting to and fro as his mind raced. She waited to see if he'd tell her what he was thinking, so long as he didn't reach for his pistol.

He didn't; after several seconds of silent panic, Gray turned and bolted for the hatch. Whitney was left to her own devices. A dull sense of fear began to grow in her gut.

What exactly just happened?


Three hours later, she figured it out; they were in trouble.

The fog had finally cleared, revealing two major details to the young stowaway – they were within sight of an island she didn't recognize, and they were surrounded.

The island was nothing terribly unique, having a small port town in the middle of a long, unbroken coastline, and the land extended several miles to either side of that town. A single mountain broke through the skyline of trees, but otherwise there was nothing to see.

Ironically, this island served as the wall against which they had been pinned. Not one but four ships now sailed around them, each with distinct colors flying above their sails. Hundreds of cannons dotted every hull, each one aimed at the Emerald Princess and no doubt armed and ready to fire at a moment's notice.

Captain Red Bone was not having it, pacing and growling obscenities that would've made even Mother wince. "Blast it… bloody… damn…" He looked ready to squeeze blood from a stone.

Whitney carefully asked, "Were we followed after all?"

"Nay, they dinnae need bother," said Red Bone with a snarl. "Hang me for a fool! All these years a' gettin' off scott-free 've caught up. Got careless, I did."

"They learned our route," said Gray from right next to her. "We left a trail after all. They didn't need to follow us, just get here before we did. Damned fog just hid 'em til it was too late. Bastards."

"And those are Navy ships," Whitney observed as she leaned over the railing, finally able to see clearly. "If we run, they'll blow us to pieces."

"Not just Navy, lass…" Red Bone glared at the offending vessels. "Amitola. The bastard brought his entire fleet for little 'ol me. Ought to be honored, I should."

Whitney looked up at the man who had taken her in, treated her with respect, and even shown a rare kindness when no other man in her life considered her more than just her mother's child. "What will you do?"

He looked down at her with eyes the color of silver bullion. "Rare's the pirate can retire 'n wealth an' happiness. All face the cannon someday. But I says…"

One rough, calloused hand reached into his jacket and pulled out a silver key on a chain. It was clearly old and tarnished, but anyone with eyes could see that it meant a great deal to the man who kept it close to his heart. He clenched his hand around the key and looked out to the approaching ships with a fire in his eyes.

"…Not this day. And not by his hand. Never shall we die."

Lieutenant Schnee held the spyglass to his eye, watching the deck of their enemy carefully. In particular he focused on one face. "There she is… her hair's been cut, but that is absolutely my sister."

"And unharmed, as I said," Amitola chortled as he took a swig from his flask. "We'll force them into the bay first, that way she won't have too far to swim once we bring that ship down. Fair?"

"Risky…" Schnee sighed as he lowered the glass. "But fair."

Something strange was happening.

Whitney stood back and watched while the men of the ship moved as though under a spell; all of them sung in low voices as they worked, something like 'Yo ho, all together, hoist the colors high.' It was not a shanty she knew at all.

As one they pulled open four different hatches on deck, drew forth several ropes and lowered them down into the hold. Others climbed the masts and rolled up the sails. By all accounts it looked like they were preparing to surrender, despite Red Bone's declaration. Were they planning to ignite the gunpowder stores and blow themselves up?

Gradually the song got louder and louder as the men worked, but in time she discovered what they were doing; each of the hatches covered a massive Dust Crystal, bigger than any she'd ever seen, and they were hauling them up on deck. In addition to their unusual size, they were also a color like nothing she'd known before – they were a deep purple, almost black. Even more unusual, none of the men had the slightest trouble lifting such massive crystals, almost like they weighed nothing at all.

"Where did you get those?" she asked as Red Bone came near.

He ignored her, moving to tie a length of chain to each of the purple Dust crystals and bind them together. He tied all four chains to the helm before taking his place at the wheel, casting one more look at the approaching ships.

Whitney Schnee felt a chill run down her spine.

What sort of madness have I gotten into?

"Captain, wait! Don't shoot! Hold your fire!" Walter Schnee bolted across the deck, panic in his voice.

Amitola had his own spyglass out but didn't lower it. "I take it those rocks on deck are your 'Dust'?"

"Yes… yes they are…" The Lieutenant struggled to catch his breath, "But that's a new type, unlike any we've dealt with. There's no telling what'll happen if they're struck."

The smaller man finally spared him a look of exasperation. "Ross knew full well that such things were risky before he ever brought them onboard. If I 'accidentally' ignite them and destroy his ship, he'll have no one to blame but himself."

"It's not just his ship at risk. Look at the size of them, Captain! And there are four!"

Amitola glanced back at the Emerald Princess for a moment, "I do see that. What of it?"

"Captain…" Walter had to stop himself from shouting the word 'idiot' to a superior officer. "We have to assume those crystals to be as volatile as red Fire Dust; one crystal of that size could wipe out both that ship and much of the nearby island."

"…"

"If all four go off, there won't even be ashes left."

"…I see your point, Lieutenant. Ensign, have all ships prepare their boarding parties. We will have that man's head today."

Whitney Schnee was familiar with Dust to some degree. That was expected of the daughter of the only company on Remnant that dealt in the trade and marketing of the stuff. She understood that Fire Dust was quickly proving itself to be superior to gunpowder, Ice Dust was now an essential part of food preservation, and Plant Dust was revolutionizing the kingdom's farmland, helping produce more food than ever before.

It didn't take long before she understood that this new, purple Dust would effectively change the world.

Red Bone stood at the helm and focused, but nothing happened at first. Waves lapped against the side of the ship as every crewman held firm, waiting for the storm to break.

But then the entire ship turned, quickly, to face the island. No wind pulled her sails, nor creature pushed from the deep. It simply turned. Whitney was thrown off her feet.

"Might wanna hold on, cully," Red Bone said with a grim smile.

Slowly, gradually, she figured out what was going on; every board on the ship gave a groan, every rope strained to breaking point, as the sound of waves reduced until they simply stopped. The line of trees began shrinking below the railing. The pitch and yaw of the hull was replaced with the roaring winds.

One careful peek over the side confirmed her suspicion; they were now several hundred feet above the waves and getting higher by the minute.

The ship… was flying.

"…"

"…"

"Schnee, you never said anything about those rocks of yours doing that!"

"I… I didn't… this is… impossible…"

"They're flying… over the island."

"We'll never catch them now."

"…"

"…"

"Admiral Harper will not be happy about this."

"Well, cully… looks like yer stuck with us for a spell," Red Bone chuckled.

Whitney could barely form words. The Emerald Princess was now so high that they were practically sailing across the clouds. They couldn't even see the White Fang or any of Amitola's other ships anymore. "Incredible…"

"Aye. Little trick I learned from the dear Lady Oldoak, gods rest her weary soul." Red Bone took off his tricorn hat and put it to his heart for a moment. He plopped it back on and said, "Cannae make port at Menagerie again, sad to say. They know us too well. Aye, but I fear the Princess is nae long fer sailin after this."

Whitney nodded. "I did notice quite a few weakened beams and worn out spots in the hull."

"Oh aye?"

"That and…" Whitney waved a hand at their surroundings, "No sailing ship that I know of was built for this. The entire point of the structure is intended to keep water out while letting great loads of cargo float without danger."

"Ye sound like ye know a thing or two…"

"I have studied modern shipbuilding," Whitney looked away, face getting hot again. "It's… necessary for running a company like ours. I must understand what I am to command if I take over one day."

Red Bone stared at her but said nothing. He was obviously thinking his own thoughts.

"I-In any case, I suppose you'll be searching for another port?"

"Aye… but I wonder if ye really pinin to make land?"

"…"

"Did ye not say, 'don't take me back to Port Noble'?"

"I did…"

"And ye stand firm now, even when me johnnies're all lookin a bit green 'round the gills." He gestured to the deck where only a handful of his crew were visible, most of these leaning over the rails. None sounded terribly healthy. "Normally a lass such as ye would be bad luck, and yet…"

"Are you asking me to stay onboard?"

"Nay, nothin' of the sort." Red Bone cleared his throat and looked away, the barest hint of a blush creeping over his red beard. "Just… if ye did, you'll find nae debatin from ol' Red Bone, is all. Yer free as the wind."

Whitney Gelé laughed quietly. You know… this might not be so bad after all.


Designation: Remnant-5007 (Pirate World)

Type 3 Pre-Modern World
Class 2 Population – 80/20 HF (Human/Faunus) Ratio
Grimm Threat NOT DETECTED

Environment: GREEN
Integrity: YELLOW
Culture: YELLOW
Dust/Aura: RED
Deviation from Standard: 64.2 %

Special Note: There's something weird about these Dust readings, but until I get a piece of it in my hands to study in detail, all I can do is speculate. The other parts of this world are nothing special compared to everything else I've been studying, especially considering their level of technology… or rather, lack thereof.


Author's Note: Red Bone is what happens when I listen to sea shanties a bit too often while dreaming of AUs for my series. He's nothing more or less than a male Ruby playing the part of a discount Blackbeard, but I think that's what makes it fun. The details of this world's unique Dust will become clear later on cuz yeah, we'll be back.

Next Chapter: .̷͈̚.̴̹̓.̸͍́s̸̘̀o̸̦̒ṁ̴̨e̴̹̎t̸͇͐h̴̩͋ȉ̵̧n̵͖͑g̶̗̚ ̴̢́w̶̝̋i̵̧͘c̵͈͝k̴̻̓ë̷̻́d̸̝̓ ̴̯̊t̴̝̀ḧ̶͙́i̶͙̐s̵̫͘ ̴̭̈́w̷̰͝ạ̴̀ŷ̵̥ ̶̣̈c̴͚̐o̸̩͋ḿ̸͚e̵̟͊s̷̉͜

[Temporary Note: Don't expect too much from the next chapter right away, as it's only gonna be a placeholder for now – 13 is too good a number to waste, but the Ruby I'm putting there won't be ready for a long time. Feel free to skip that one until I post the real chapter 13 someday in the future.]

=^..^=