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Ruth searched her pockets, but her fingers scraped the bottom. Without a coin for the runner, she patted him on the head and walked away with the message he'd delivered.

It was almost sunset in Tremont, and all of the crew had returned except for the three that had gone up to the SMS headquarters, hence the note. In it, Cornelius explained that they were going to get to the bottom of an interesting rumor being shared among the office workers and to not expect them until morning. Ruth snorted and folded the message again before slipping it into her pocket. More likely was that the quartermaster wanted to sleep in a real bed that night and they'd traveled up to his townhome in Park Hill.

Her fist was halfway raised when she paused, turned her head, and leaned in closely to Frederic's cabin door. She didn't knock, instead opening the door just far enough to slip inside. Two sets of eyes turned to her as the door shut, but the captain turned his attention back to the resonator in front of him. The lid was open, the opaque glass glowing with a soft light, and Prince Jovanni's voice could be heard as though from another room.

"...for keeping me apprised of the situation. Good luck tonight, Frederic."

"Thank you, your highness." He reached for the resonator, his metal fingers hovering above the box, before the captain frowned. "Jules, how do you turn it off?" There was a tinny laugh from the prince before Julius spun the dial in a specific combination and with an audible click, the light faded away. The engineer closed the lid, sweeping his hand over the finished wood.

"You know, it's keyed to five different alpha glyphs right now but if I took this panel off here," Julius' smile wilted when Frederic's expression didn't change at all and he raised two fingers to his eyes. "Right! I like a challenge. Introduce a new pattern matrix without taking it apart, I can do that." He cradled the resonator in both arms and swept past Ruth who watched Frederic rise to his feet. She gave him Cornelius' note as he opened the door, and as they headed for the stairs, the captain snorted.

"At least some of us will sleep sound tonight. Are you and Dane ready to go?"

"Are you?" She replied, and he had to take the question in stride, unable to answer much less contemplate it when they came up on deck and found most of the crew waiting for him. Dane gave a sheepish smile before looking away, and Frederic swallowed back a sigh.

"I am following up on the investigation of a possible insurgent, not sightseeing."

"Captain, I'm sorry," Dane began, but the others talked over him.

"You're going to the Outer Rim," Bonnie emphasized.

"Extra firepower never hurts, Captain." Thomson added.

"Do you even know how to get there?" Carissa asked curiously.

"Why, do you?" He demanded, crossing his arms. "I'll take a volunteer, come on. Have any of you actually been farther than the Market District?" There was a beat of silence, glances exchanged as it became clear no one had stepped foot there.

And then Bassett cleared his throat. "I spent some time in the Outer Rim, a few years ago." The deckhand shrugged and Frederic looked from him to Bohman, whose expression was deliberately blank, his lips thinned to a straight line.

"But he was sick all of yesterday," Buck blurted.

"I slept it off," Bassett said pointedly. When he realized everyone was looking at him, the man frowned and set his shoulders back.

"Doc, is he cleared?" Frederic asked. Carissa nodded and gestured back to the middle Barrister as it was his decision. "Doc says you're good to go. Would you be willing to guide us, Bassett?" A small nod from the deckhand and Frederic briefly smiled. "Good man. Now, since I assume your brothers are coming with us, I want the three of you armed discreetly. Handguns only."

"Are you sure—" Thomson started but Frederic cut him off.

"Thomson, Bonnie, you're both on guard duty." The gunner saluted though he looked less than delighted while his redheaded companion openly gaped at Frederic, making a sharp noise of disbelief.

"Carissa, I'd appreciate it if you stayed."

"But Captain, it's the Outer Rim, I can—"

"Aye, aye, Captain," the doctor replied, putting both hands on Bonnie's shoulders and steering her away while she continued to grumble about it. Thomson remained, swinging one of the Barrister's shotgun over his shoulder while handing over the two guns from his own holsters. He sighed, glanced back at Frederic and sidled over to the captain again.

"I'd do better by your side, Captain," Thomson whispered.

"I know," he said. "But tonight's just a scouting mission, and I'd feel safer if you kept an eye on things here. Someone somewhere has the Daruna in their sights. Make sure to cover us, Gunner Hess." The man clicked his heels together as he straightened and nodded, leaving Frederic to turn back to his five person party. "Everyone ready to go?" He led the way off the ship, gesturing for Bassett to his side. His brothers followed, and the last two brought up the rear.

"Just as I planned," Dane boasted, laughing when Ruth slapped him on the back of the head.

The Outer Rim was just east of the docks, but Bassett insisted on making their way up to the Market District first. As the night grew longer and lamplighters dotted the streets with the orange glow of their magic, the shops closed and crowds of people made their way down the hill, where the streets narrowed but the taverns were open all night. There were patrols of Imperial Guards of course, even several barracks in key positions throughout the cobbled streets, but local citizens knew it was a farce. The law was looser on these streets of the capital city, where Barons ruled and their thugs walked freely in the light of day.

In the dark, everyone looked much the same. Men and women of different sizes, colors, and castes were weaving in and out of the crowds, a barrage of music, shouting, and talking creating a cacophony that almost drowned Frederic. He was glad when Buck pushed into his side, winking at him and tipping a ratty bowler hat at him in a mock salute.

"Where'd you find that?" He asked.

"Borrowed it," the youngest Barrister said tongue in cheek and with both hands, he dropped the hat on Frederic's head. Instantly, Buck made a face and removed the hat, circling around to Dane and putting it on him instead. The man grinned and laughed, saying something that was lost to Frederic as an airship flew low overhead. Few people looked up until something splashed on the cobblestones and some less fortunate souls. Frederic lost sight of them as the street widened into a square, the flare and pop of pattern magic electrifying the air. There was colored glass on the windows, brightening the light in the square and dazzling newcomers.

Bassett, at the head of their party, didn't even glance sideways, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders around his ears, but he walked purposefully. Bohman, a step behind and to his right, watched the crowds, watched skin become scales, met eyes that glowed and tracked them as they turned the corner. Ruth was suddenly at Frederic's side, hands demurely folded behind her back. The captain knew she had to be touching her firearm, and he wondered if she wished for her bow instead.

"Are we going the right way?" She asked.

"I have no idea," he admitted quietly. They shared a look while Ruth scowled, and for a moment, Frederic felt like laughing.

The moment ended when Bassett slowed in front of them, and nodded toward a set of double doors guarded by a single man. He eyed them all as they walked past him and into the tavern below. The Landy Root was loud enough that Bassett turned and waved at the others to follow. They snaked through the tavern and found an empty table with five seats. Buck disappeared long enough to grab another chair and swing it over, drawing some eyes that soon fell away again. Frederic was inwardly grateful to be able to sit, to have solid wood beneath his elbows, still scrutinizing the crowds around them.

"This place doesn't exactly scream Sahalyian loyalists," Buck smirked, draped along the back of his chair like he was at home. "Any one of these jesters could be our man."

"See anyone yet, Captain?" Bassett said, sitting on his right.

Frederic swallowed hard and shook his head. He didn't know what he'd expected, for his brother to be standing under some sort of glass case, still preserved at seventeen years of age like the last time he'd seen him. "No one I recognize," he said. On his left, Ruth sighed loudly and leaned into his space as if to whisper to him, but her hand curled around his waist, making his stomach jump. When she stood, it was with his wallet in hand.

"If we're going to sit, we're going to drink," she said, and if anyone had wanted to contradict her, no one did. Her eyes flickered to Dane, then to Frederic, and the second mate nodded. "Buck, Bohman." The two stood, the former with a grin, and followed after her to the bar, and the barkeep raised her eyebrows.

"Six pints of the house brew," she said.

"We have some Creshe brandy from Larsbourg, if you'd prefer," she offered, lining up only five mugs on the bar. Ruth appeared surprised for a moment and then nodded, pulling the required notes from Frederic's wallet.

"How considerate of you," Ruth spoke carefully. "Do you often notice such details?"

The barkeep grinned and poured the brandy into a glass snifter. "Only when it amuses me," she held out the drink, deliberately brushing against Ruth's fingertips. "And for the benefit of beautiful women, of course."

"I'm looking for a woman, actually," the first mate ventured, leaning forward on the bar. A delighted smile graced the barkeep's face for a moment. "Goes by Dunixi, do you know her?"

"Afraid not," was the quick answer. It was almost funny how quickly the bartender's expression shuttered closed, especially when she tried to conceal it. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction only after Ruth slipped another bill on top of the others. "Her crew just won a tourney from Baron Underwood, but everyone knows that." Another bank note and the barkeep half smiled, pocketing the currency as she propped her elbows on the bar. "I heard there was some bad blood at the match, but the Root doesn't take sides so they've been taking their drink here. How about you, gorgeous? Where you from?"

"Just a couple of birds, passing through," Buck stepped in on Ruth's right side and picked up three of the mugs in both hands. "Looking for a good time, you know how it is." He smiled, despite both women glaring at him, when the barkeep frowned. Pursing her lips, she stared at Buck.

"Tell me, bird," she said. "What ship do you fly on?"

Bohman steered Buck away from the bar and pushed him back to the table. "You heard him," he said, grabbing the last two pints. "We ain't from nowhere. Thanks for the drinks." Ruth saluted the bartender with her brandy and followed after the youngest Barrister while his older brother hissed behind her, "Can you try not to bring the Barony down on us?" He didn’t wait for the woman's reply but dropped a mug in front of the captain and sat down heavily in his own seat.

Their toast was lackluster but every hand was raised for a moment before Frederic looked from his beer and said, "I don’t drink."

"Then cup it close and act drunk already," Bassett shrugged and took a healthy swallow from his own mug. The first round was consumed faster than Frederic would have imagined, and a passing server offered to bring another. After half an hour of sitting there, the lights on the wall dimmed and three musicians took the central stage, making the tavern's volume double. Buck looked up hopefully but Bohman leaned in and whispered something that made the youngest Barrister roll his eyes and slump back into his seat. A third round came and went and Ruth was kind enough to trade him a glass of water in exchange for his mug. She tasted his warm beer and stuck her tongue out in disgust. Frederic laughed when she drank it anyway. Buck announced he was going to go dance, on his feet before anyone could stop him, and Bohman followed almost half a step behind, his face like thunder. Bassett, glancing uncomfortably from the table to his brothers disappearing in the crowd, leaned in close to the captain and yelled, "I'll be right back."

Frederic nodded and waved him off, and he watched Bassett weave through the tables and shoulder his way into the dancing crowd. "Captain," Ruth said, fingers digging into his flesh arm. He looked back at his first mate but his gaze was redirected to the barkeeper from earlier. The barkeep nodded to the entrance where a small crowd of people was entering the Landy Root, but only one caught his eye: Ethan Lassiter.

If he'd seen him walking in the street, Frederic wasn't sure he would have recognized him. He was smaller than he had imagined, for one. At least half a head shorter with inexplicably broad shoulders, he had sallow skin and bags under his eyes that he could see across the room. His shaved head did nothing to hide a myriad of scars, displaying an ugly welt at the base of his skull when the man turned away and headed further inside the Landy Root.

"Captain," Ruth said again.

"Give me a minute," he grunted, clearing his throat.

He tried not to think that fighting off raiders had required less courage than simply rising to his feet but thinking of the attack sparked something to fire in his gut and he shot up from his seat. His drunk act was almost convincing now because of how he wobbled but when Frederic managed the first step, the second was instinctive. The tavern narrowed down to his view of Ethan, and he thought for a terrifying moment that there was more violence in his heart than he'd imagined. Something was making his hands curl into fists at his sides. He lost sight of him just once, when others stood up around him, blocking his way forward. A showman's smile curled Ethan's face, his hands held palm out, and one of the men grabbed him by the front of his coat and yanked him forward.

At the last moment, Frederic aimed for the same man's arm, and while he still felt bone break, at least it wasn't his skull. Several people rose up, a woman with brown, curly hair screaming that this was neutral territory, others pointing at Frederic as the aggressor, and Ethan himself slipping into the middle with Frederic at his back. "You'll probably want to take him to a healer instead of quibbling all night, right? Try again later, no shame in retreat," he said, and when the bouncer arrived to escort them from the Landy Root, Ethan laughed. "Well, looks like I owe you a," he trailed off, stunned into silence.

Once upon a time the Lassiter brothers had been inseparable. They had completed each other the way a left hand did the right, without saying. As children, they had promised that one day, they would marry beautiful sisters and live in one big house where their children could be raised together but they would sail two ships, just like their father and their Uncle Garrow. They would continue the Lassiter legacy and become pirates and heroes, doing right when there was wrong and wrong when it was fun. When they were young, Ethan and Frederic couldn't wait to grow up, but that was before the fall.

"Ethan," the same curly-haired woman from before was at his side, eyeing Frederic uncertainly.

"Not now, Phea," he said, and she threw her hands up and stalked away, followed by a young man with dreadlocks. Ethan smiled again, as easily shrugging on a coat, and slipped his hands into his pockets. "Spirits, but you've grown. How are you, Fritz?"

"Don't call me that," Frederic snarled, caught by the bright blue of Ethan's eyes, the only sign of familiarity in his gaunt face. "We’re not children, and you don’t know me anymore."

Ethan scoffed, his smile never leaving his face. "Whose fault is that, exactly? You have never returned a single letter. I asked to meet countless times and you,"

"You didn't deserve a second chance, Ethan, I thought I made that clear." If Frederic saw his words twist like a knife in Ethan's gut, it was gone a moment later, hidden beneath a blank look. "That's not why I'm here."

"Shame, because so far it's been magical," the shorter man rolled his eyes. Ethan stepped around Frederic and gestured for him to follow him to the bar. The captain looked back, saw the averted looks of people deliberately ignoring him and Ruth some ten feet away. She met his eyes and walked to the opposite end of the bar where Dane was already waiting. Frederic resisted the urge to just gather his crew and leave, following behind Ethan and ignoring the beer his brother had already ordered for him. They were both standing, tucked into enough of a corner that he could hear Ethan without strain: "Why are you here, then?"

"I like to look a man in the eyes before I accuse him of murder." Frederic didn't react to Ethan's show of choking on his drink and met his incredulous look with a level gaze. "I've been charged by Prince Jovan III to investigate the attack on Tierra Lue and your ship was docked there the day before."

"For scrap! For salvage, Fri—" He stop mid syllable, sighing and running a hand over his scalp. “When I learned about the attack, I praised my luck we got out in time until I heard your ship got caught in the crossfire. I'm sorry about that, but my crew had nothing to do with it. Tierra Lue is on the way to Alta Bay is on the way to Braxton where I've got a buyer."

"Can you prove it?"

Ethan grimaced and set his beer down on the bar. "What, do you want my receipts? You can check in each port, my ship's registered. With your lofty connections, I'm sure they'll hand over the inspection reports. Is that what you wanted?"

Frederic had read the reports, he knew it all checked out, but there were rumors about the Raleigh and her crew. "Are you still making it out to Cataclima?" He asked, naming the otherkind city in the jungles of Ban Urenli to the south.

"Food and medicine once a month, just like Dad used to," he said, casually admitting to smuggling supplies across borders. Ethan raised his mug and paused, staring at Frederic for a moment. "You look just like him, I swear."

His fist came down on the bar before he realized, his untouched beer sloshing over the sides, and Frederic inhaled deeply before he could open his mouth. "Say I believe you," he murmured. "That you're just some innocent airship captain, pulling the same stunts that got his father killed."

Ethan set his mug down, and smiled again, brittle but bright. "Think you've got me all squared away, do you?"

"There's a new kind of cypher on the street, military grade. Someone might be trying to sell it. Have you heard anything like that?" Frederic said, glancing back at his brother, but the man had his mask on again.

"So I'm just a piece of shit until it suits you?"

"This is bigger than either of us. A lot of people could get hurt," he started but when Ethan clicked his tongue, Frederic found himself stepping into his space, using his height and forcing the man to lean back. "For once in your life, Ethan, do the right thing."

"Frederic, I'm sorry," he exhaled in a rush, but the machinist man jumped back as though struck. Ethan called after him, but Frederic was already walking away, pushing his way through the crowd with a sudden but desperate need for fresh air. He was halfway up the stairs when someone pulled on his arm, his opposite raised instinctively to defend himself, but it was Ruth and Dane on her heels. Relief crashed through him so hard he felt dizzy, grateful that his first mate pulled him the rest of the way up to the street.

"What about the Barristers?" Dane asked.

"They can find their own way back," Ruth tugged on the captain's hand until they were well away from the Landy Root. She dropped her grasp, and Frederic nodded in thanks. "What happened? What did he say to you?"

"I, he just—nothing happened. He had nothing useful,” he said hoarsely. His stomach cramped, from emotion or hunger, he couldn't tell, but Frederic kept moving and Ruth and Dane fell in behind him. He took another deep breath, letting the fresh air clear his head. "It was a dead end. The inspection reports already confirmed that. Tomorrow, we'll work on Julius' lead. If we can't scare up the buyers, then we'll find the cypher first." They turned the corner, past glowing eyes that tracked them. After a moment, it was clear that it wasn't the only thing that followed.

"Captain," Dane said low.

"I heard it," he replied, listening to four different footsteps fall in behind them. They were moving slowly, and while the crowd provided a decent cover if a fight broke out, he couldn't stomach the idea of involving civilians. Frederic lengthened his stride and Ruth and Dane adjusted accordingly, sweeping past the square bathed in the light from colored glass. "Weapons?"

"Knives. Magic probably," Ruth replied.

"Captain," Dane repeated. "They're not human."

"I noticed," he muttered. They were also speeding up, meaning they wouldn't get a chance to move to a better location. "Ruth, find cover and start shooting. Dane, as soon as she breaks go left. I'll go right."

The first shot Ruth fired was straight into the air, causing enough heads to duck that her second shot struck one of their pursuers squarely in the chest. Her third shot veered midair into the nearby roof, exploding the clay shingles into a cloud of debris and dust. The man with the glowing eyes had a hand outstretched and the other swinging at Ruth, scattering the boxes she had crouched behind. Dane paused long enough to grab the first man's fallen staff and swung it overhead at the otherkind mage, but he stopped the blow with both of his hands alight around the staff. Dane grinned, dropped the weapon, and struck him across the jaw with his fist.

To the right, Frederic was fighting the last two that had followed them, using his right arm as a shield against their blades. The brunet of the two lunged and Frederic sidestepped, grabbed the man's arm and hurled him at the wall of the closest tavern. The blond had both knives raised behind him, but two shots from Ruth felled the man before Frederic could even right himself. When he did, there was a moment of silence in the street. Most of the crowd had fled into the surrounding buildings but there were still a large number of people at the end that had gathered to watch.

"Go, call the Guards-!" Frederic's warning shout died in his throat when he realized they weren't civilians. They were all armed, moving quickly towards the three, and not one of them was human. "Dane, cover fire! Ruth, regroup, now!"

Dane, standing over the mage's prone body, had two handguns and was firing before Frederic finished speaking. Ruth took one last shot before turning on her heel, but her gun swung back up immediately, shooting over Dane's shoulder. The six-foot shula, a striped feline otherkind, barely staggered from the gunshot but he tumbled back when Frederic barreled into him. He raised his elbow and struck the shula across the face with his right fist, blood spraying the ground. Behind him, the sound of gunshots stopped abruptly and he heard Dane scream in outrage. The two had been separated and it seemed like Dane had the upper hand against his captors for the moment but Ruth was lifted into the air by all four limbs, swearing obscenely in every language she knew. She wrested her leg back for a moment, long enough to kick someone squarely in the crotch and elicit a sharp groan. Frederic grabbed the shoulders of the one that held her other leg and yanked him back, suddenly breathless when someone else jabbed him in his side where he still had bandages underneath his clothes. He fell back, swung wildly to gain some breathing room, when a chidric, a furry primate otherkind with a ringed tail, jumped onto his back and bit the crook of his shoulder.

Frederic stumbled forward, grabbed the chidric by the neck, and hurled him away, teeth ripping through his flesh and jacket alike. If it had just been painful, he would've ignored the way the wound felt like it was on fire but that heat was speeding through his veins, making his muscles feel loose and his vision swim. Frederic fell to one knee, but not one of the otherkind approached. He wouldn't have noticed except for the hand that grabbed his face indiscriminately and pulled his head back, the cold metal of a knife being pressed against his throat.

"I will say this only once," a woman behind him spoke and when every eye turned to her, Ruth and Dane instantly fell still. "Keep fighting and I will kill him." His gorge rose, never having seen the fight go out of either warrior like it did then, but he couldn't do anything but watch. A shudder pushed through him, his eyes rolled backwards, and then Frederic couldn't do anything at all.