Yo ho, yo ho...

[Airan]

Sub Post for Ciera

Ciera was silent as Tooley was dragged away by the two guards, her eyes watching them the whole way as they yanked and pushed the blundering weasel down the docks and towards the tunnels of the Dead Rock. The weasel turned his head, looking towards her with a look of only disappointment.

Ciera ignored it and turned away. It was only when the shouts dimmed in volume and she was sure that the guards had disappeared into the tunnels with their prisoner, did the ferret look back.

Of all the times for Tooley to meddle, it of course had to have been at the worst possible time, and though Ciera had tried to stall for as long as she could by sending them to the overseer, it would only be a matter of time before Blade heard word of the attack as well and, more importantly, how she had been skulking about the harbor without permission. What little time she had to begin with was now even shorter.

It was time, now or never.

The soft sound of an oar dipping into the water caused her to turn her head in alarm, but Ciera quickly realized who had caused it. She strode over the dock to where the two beasts she had found aboard The Phantom were hiding, her heavy boots making the boards beneath her footpaws creak with each step.

"The coast is clear," she told them with a sigh. "That weasel sure picked a bad time to grow a spine."

The squirrel's contempt was impossible to miss with the way she glared at her. "That weasel may not be the bravest beast, or the smartest, but at least he cared about someone other than himself."

Ciera thought of Rin and how she once held her closely in her arms. She thought of her crew as they were cut down by Greyjaw and Atlas. And she thought of Blade and the tears she had struggled to hide after his supposed death, and the tears she struggled to hide now. Tooley thought that she was a bad captain, but he was wrong. A good captain knew when to care for their crew, but they also knew when to leave their care and their crew behind. "I once had somebeast I cared about, but that is no longer a luxury I can afford," Ciera said. She glanced both ways quickly before looking back to the squirrel and mongoose. "You should leave now before another patrol comes by."

"What are you going to do now?"

Ciera looked up towards The Zephyr. Right past it, a group of small vessels - small enough that an experienced beast could likely sail them alone- were tied to the docks, rocking gently in the waves. She sighed.

"Something necessary."

*

"So, what do you think?"

That was the question. From the moment that she was brought into the Dead Rock, that was the question that constantly left Blade's lips as he paraded her through each and every corridor of the mountain with that usual expectant look of his, showing her everything he had created and doing his damned best to convince her to stay. He showed her the harbor nestled in the hidden cove and the fleet of ships that had been built there, the sulfur and iron mines and the dead-eyed, starved beasts who worked in them, and lastly, the weapons he managed to create.

"They're called cannons," he explained, running his claws down the length of one of the contraptions where the two ferrets stood in The Phantom's hull. "If there's one thing that I always envied about our dear friend, Atlas, it's his power. He broke through our forces like they were bloody dominoes, knockin' our vessels down one by one. There were gaps in the decks and walls from where his broadsword smashed through them. Doors were ripped from their hinges, and all that followed him was blood. He was unstoppable, a true titan of a beast.

"But with these, I finally have that power, Ciera," Blade continued. "Each one of these cannons makes Atlas look like a child throwin' a temper tantrum. It's a weapon stronger than any badger could ever dream t' be. Would you like t' see a demonstration?"

Ciera didn't need to. The piercing screams of her crew as the weapons tore holes in the Silver Maiden still burned fresh in her mind. She shook her head. "And will the other pirates get these as well?"

"Of course not," Blade answered her. "Who's t' stop a beast like Greyjaw from pointin' them at me when the time comes? No, I'll be movin' them soon t' the Zephyr and that's where they'll stay."

"And where will you be pointing them, Blade?"

He never answered that question, and as they moved on in their tour through the tunnels, rows and rows of identical-looking beasts moved beside them in strict single file formation, all of them straightening their posture and holding their heads high in the presence of the Pirate King. If it wasn't for their distinctive red sashes that she was told identified them as such, Ciera would have hardly known that these beasts were pirates at all. In fact, with the way they were being drilled, shoved into barracks, and marched about, it seemed that Atlas had given Blade far more inspiration than he gave him credit for. They were hardly pirates anymore, but a military, ready to march on Salamandastron just as Atlas had on Terramort.

It was only when they had made their way past the procession and back to Blade's office did the Pirate King turn back with his expectant look. "So, what did you think?" The question came again. "Have you made your decision?"

"Yes, I have," Ciera answered, crossing her arms. She paused, letting him wait, before finally opening her mouth. "Blade, what is this?"

"What's what, Ciera?" he asked. For how intelligent she knew him to be, it was strange to hear confusion in his tone.

"That, Blade," she said. "The uniforms. The drills. The cannons..."

Blade chuckled, a light smile stretching across his maw. "It's the future, Ciera... the future of piracy."

Ciera was dumbstruck. "The future?"

The other ferret sighed. "Think of it like a ball of clay, Ciera. If you wanted it t' be a cube or a pyramid instead, you would have t' press and mold it in your paws until it became that shape, and though it may look different, it's still the same clay," Blade explained.

"The same clay? You turned them into the bloody Waverunners!" Ciera snapped.

"I turned them int' somethin' that works," Blade replied calmly, though Ciera could hear his tone growing colder. "Piracy was flawed. It needed discipline, a cause t' fight for, like Atlas had when he formed those blasted Waverunners, and what better cause t' fight for then freedom for our kind, freedom from beasts like Atlas who only want us dead? No, it's time we were the ones who were free. It's time they feared us.

"Would you listen to yourself?" Ciera spat. "You sound just like those idiot warlords you said you wouldn't become!"

Blade rolled his eyes. "So, I take it that you've decided t' leave then?"

"Yes," Ciera answered through a narrow gaze.

"Very well, I can have a ship prepared for you in the mornin'," the other ferret said.

"No, I'll be choosing the ship," Ciera answered him, "as well as the provisions and supplies on board." Blade was stupid if he thought that she would just let him prepare the ship for her. It would likely break in two by the time she hit deeper waters or the provisions would be poisoned. He couldn't have anybeast spilling the secret that he was still alive after all, and with a few broken nails or a faulty tiller, he could easily take care of any loose ends without getting his paws dirty.

"You still don't trust me?" Blade sighed. "What happened t' us, Ciera?"

"You died, Cyril."

The pirate king frowned and glowered at her. "I wasn't the one who abandoned piracy, Ciera."

Ciera clenched her teeth. "Don't you dare say that I abandoned piracy! Because for the last ten seasons, I've done nothing but fight those blasted Waverunners and watch as they slew captain after captain, crew after crew, all while you sat by, letting it happen. You told me to choose, and I chose piracy. And if I could go back, I would still choose it."

"Then don't abandon it this time, Ciera. Fight. Fight for piracy," Blade said as he reached into the drawer of his desk and produced a red sash. He held it out for her in offering.

Ciera tried to imagine the world that Blade envisioned, a world where the dream of conquering Salamandastron was fulfilled and vermin ruled. It would never work of course. After the mountain fell and the woodlanders were killed or enslaved, vermin would only want more, just as they always did. More gold, more food, until eventually nothing was left. Vermin would finally have their place in the world but at the cost of its destruction.

She looked back to where Blade held out the red sash. There was a time when he, Cyril, held out his paw to her and asked her to help him change the world, his eyes sparkling with such passion for his own ideals that it was impossible to refuse. She wanted to help him. She wanted to unite piracy and create a world where vermin could truly belong. But his eyes betrayed nothing now. He overcame that weakness. The day that he took the name Blade, was the day that Cyril, and all of his ideals, died. Blade didn't care about piracy, only power.

Ciera regarded the red sash in his paw one more time before taking it from him and tying it around her waist. "I will always fight for piracy, Blade. Always."

*

But this wasn't piracy.

Ciera stepped across the gangplank of the vessel in front of her, a small ship known as The Whirlpool, and quickly made her way below deck. She ran her paw across the walls, feeling every grain in the timber and checking for any intentional damage or imperfections. Just as she expected, the last two ships she inspected would have barely gotten her out of the harbor, let alone on the open sea with how they were designed. Death traps, the lot of them. However, The Whirlpool seemed sturdy enough to at least last the journey she was intending.

After her finishing her inspection, Ciera went back above deck and looked out at the entrance to the hidden cove and watched as the waves slowly lapped against the rocks. The moon shone brightly outside and the stars hung overhead. It was a tranquil night, ideal for sailing.

Ciera made her way to the side of The Whirlpool and gave a glance to the brass nameplate nailed to it. She frowned before taking a small knife she found in the ship's storage and prying it loose. In its place, she carved a new name.

By the time the moon began to dip below the horizon, The Silver Maiden had left the Dead Rock behind and was already trudging through the waves of the open sea. Ciera worked the tiller carefully, closing her eyes as she familiarized herself with each creaking timber. A cool breeze blew through the ferret's fur as the dawn sun began to peek over the horizon. She looked to the mountain she left behind before turning her back on Blade one last time. Slowly, she untied the red sash from around her waist.

Letting it blow away in the calm breeze, she began to sail north.