The hum of the stunned crowd slowly faded into murmurs and then the normal, rhythmic sounds of the ship at sea: the groan of timber, the snap of the sails, the distant cry of a gull. The sailors, realizing the free entertainment was over, shuffled off to their duties, casting wary glances my way. I was no longer just the strange woman with a talking cat; I was the witch who’d fleeced Griz out of the captain’s own key. My social standing had just taken a very weird, very sharp turn.

  “I think I need to sit down,” Nolan wheezed, slumping against a stack of crates. He was pale, and a fresh sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, catching the afternoon sun. “My entire D&D career just flashed before my eyes. All those TPKs… the Cheeto dust… the arguing about grappling rules…”

  “Breathe, Nolan,” I said, patting his arm. The key felt heavy and significant in my hand, a solid piece of evidence that this insane reality was, in fact, real. “We’re fine. See?”

  “We are fine by the thinnest of margins,” a stern voice cut in. Ser Kaelen shifted, his arms crossed over the silver gryphon etched onto his breastplate. His expression was a familiar cocktail of disapproval and weary resignation. “You wagered not only your own life, Paige Hawking, but the success of our entire endeavor on a game of chance.”

  “Technically,” I corrected, holding up the key so it glinted, “it was a game of skill. Interpersonal communication, risk assessment, nonverbal cue analysis—you know, the liberal arts.”

  Kaelen just stared at me, his jaw tight. He did not, in fact, know.

  “Must we conduct this post-mortem in the open?” Bartholomew asked, hopping gracefully from the barrel to my shoulder. His weight was a familiar, comforting pressure. “I would prefer not to be present when that simian brute Griz returns with a belaying pin and a score to settle. Let us retreat to our squalid quarters.”

  He had a point. The last thing I wanted was a rematch with Griz where the stakes were my dental integrity.

  “Lead the way, Sir Knight,” I said to Kaelen with a mock bow.

  He gave a long-suffering sigh and turned, leading us through the cramped, musty-smelling deck. Our ‘quarters’ were little more than a pair of closets near the stern, a space shared by four hammocks, our packs, and the lingering aroma of feet and damp wood. It was about as private as a bus station bathroom, but at least it was out of sight.

  Kaelen lit a small, hooded lantern, casting flickering shadows across our faces. Nolan immediately collapsed onto a crate, still looking like he was about to vomit up his lunch. Bartholomew settled onto my pack, primly arranging his tail around his paws.

  “Alright,” Kaelen said, his voice a low command. “You have the key, but the Captain’s cabin is sacrosanct. He rarely leaves it, and the door is watched by his first mate when he does. A frontal assault is out of the question.”

  “Stealth mission!” Nolan perked up, his nerd enthusiasm overriding his terror. “Okay, okay, I’ve got this. We need a distraction. Paige, you can create a social encounter on the port side. Kaelen, you start a small, non-structural fire near the galley. While everyone’s occupied, I’ll use my knowledge of—”

  “No,” Kaelen and I said in unison.

  “We are not setting fire to the vessel we are currently sailing upon,” Kaelen stated, his voice flat and absolute.

  “And my ‘social encounters’ are what got us into this mess,” I added. “I’m not sure I can pull another bluff of that magnitude without my eye starting to twitch uncontrollably.” I glanced at the quest box still faintly shimmering in the corner of my vision. [The Captain’s Coffers]. The ‘???’ reward was tantalizing. It could be gold, a magical item, or, knowing my luck, a cursed sea shanty that would play in my head for eternity.

  “Pity,” Bartholomew sniffed. “A conflagration might improve the ambient odor down here.”

  “We could wait,” Kaelen mused, stroking his clean-shaven chin. “When we make port, the Captain will surely go ashore. We could act then.”

  “How long until we reach the Dragon’s Tooth?” I asked.

  “A week, with a fair wind.”

  I shook my head. “No way. Griz is going to spend the next week stewing. The longer we wait, the more time he has to convince himself—and probably others—that I cheated. He’ll either try to jump me and take the key back, or he’ll rat me out to the Captain. We need to do this tonight.”

  A heavy silence fell over our little group, broken only by the constant creaking of the ship. They were all looking at me. Great. The Communications major was suddenly the designated heist planner. I started pacing the three feet of available floor space, the key cool and solid in my hand.

  Okay, Hawking. Think. What’s the problem? Access. What are the obstacles? The Captain, the first mate, a locked door. What are our assets? A knight who’s good at hitting things, a nerd who’s good at… well, panicking, a talking cat, and me—someone who can talk her way into or out of almost anything. Direct force is out. Stealth is too risky with Nolan as our rogue. So, what’s left? Manipulation. Social engineering.

  “We’re thinking about this like a dungeon crawl,” I said finally, stopping my pacing. “We don’t need to break in. We need to get the Captain to leave.”

  Kaelen raised an eyebrow.

  “And how do you propose we do that? Ask him nicely?”

  “Close. We create a problem that only the Captain can solve. A problem that requires his immediate, personal attention on the main deck.”Nolan’s eyes widened.

  “Like a sea monster attack?”

  “Close…just maybe a little less Clash of the Titans, and a little more Office Space.” I said. My mind was racing now, pulling from half-remembered lectures on crisis communication and public relations. “The Captain, from what I’ve seen, is all about projecting authority. He’s loud, he’s proud, and he needs the crew to see him as the ultimate power on this ship. So, we give them a show.” I looked between the three of them. “Here’s the plan. We’ll call it ‘Operation Mutinous Murmurs.’ Nolan, you’re going to be our agent of chaos.”

  “M-me?” he squeaked.

  “Yes, you. You’re new, you’re weird, nobody knows what to make of you. You’re the perfect person to start a rumor. Go find a couple of the younger, more impressionable deckhands. You’re going to tell them, in a very nervous, conspiratorial whisper, that you overheard Griz telling his buddies that he didn’t just lose a key—he thinks the dice were loaded and that the Captain was in on it to make him look weak.”Nolan’s jaw dropped.

  “That’s… diabolical. Griz will kill me!”

  “He won’t know it was you,” I assured him. “You just plant the seed and scurry away. Kaelen, once the rumor starts to spread, I need you to amplify it. Find a different group of sailors, the older veterans. You’re a knight. They respect you. You just need to ask some pointed questions. ‘Is it true what they’re saying about Griz and the Captain?’ Look concerned. Act like you’re worried about crew morale. Don’t confirm anything, just fan the flames.”Kaelen looked thoughtful, a slow, dangerous smile touching his lips.

  “Undermining authority through insinuation and gossip. A dishonorable tactic. I do not approve.”

  “But you’ll do it because it’s the best plan we have.” I shot Kaelen a look.

  “And what, pray tell, is my role in this theatrical production?” Bartholomew asked from his perch.

  “You, my furry friend, are the clincher. Once the pot is stirred and the whole crew is whispering, you’re going to find the first mate. You will tell him, in your most dramatic and urgent voice, that there is talk of mutiny brewing, centered around Griz’s humiliation. Insist that the Captain must show his face on deck and quell the unrest immediately before it gets out of hand.”Bartholomew’s whiskers twitched in amusement.

  “Hysteria and alarmism. A task for which I am uniquely suited. Very well.”

  “Once the first mate fetches the Captain,” I concluded, holding up the key, “and they’re both on deck dealing with our manufactured crisis, I slip into the cabin. I get the chest, open it, grab whatever’s inside, and I’m out before anyone even realizes the rumor was baseless.”

  It was risky. It was complicated. It relied on a bunch of salty sailors being gossipy hens. But it felt… right. It was a plan that didn’t involve swords or fire, but words. My kind of weapon.

  Nolan took a deep, shuddering breath.

  “So my job is to poke the angriest bear on the ship with a stick made of lies.”

  “Basically, yeah,” I said with a grin. “Think of it as a charisma check with a high difficulty class.”

  “At least dice don’t try to actually kill me,” he groaned, but a flicker of determination lit his eyes.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Eh…” I shrugged. “This did kind of start with a game of dice.”

  “An argument could indeed be made…” Bartholomew muttered.

  Nolan swallowed hard. Kaelen nodded, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword as if imagining the chaos we were about to unleash.

  “Alright, team,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Let’s go start a mutiny.”

  We scattered like roaches in the light, melting into the ship’s daily grind. The deck of The Seaman’s Race was a controlled chaos of activity, a symphony of creaking timbers, snapping canvas, and the rhythmic shouts of sailors. The air tasted of salt and tar, a perfume I was beginning to find almost pleasant. I found a perch behind a stack of coiled rope, a spot that gave me a clear view of the main deck and the foreboding door to the Captain’s quarters. From here, I was the director, waiting for my actors to hit their marks.

  Nolan went first. He looked like a man being marched to his own execution, his face pale and slick with a nervous sweat that had nothing to do with the temperature. He shuffled towards a pair of young deckhands who were diligently swabbing a patch of deck that already looked perfectly clean. They were boys, really, no older than sixteen, with the kind of earnest, gullible faces you could sell oceanfront property in a desert to.

  I watched Nolan take a deep breath, like a man about to dive into icy water. He sidled up to them, trying for casual and landing somewhere near ‘escaped hostage.’ I was too far to hear the exact words, but I could see the performance. He leaned in, his hands gesturing nervously. He kept glancing over his shoulder towards Griz, the mountain of a man who was currently standing watch at the helm, blissfully unaware he was the centerpiece of our drama. The boys’ expressions shifted from dutiful boredom to wide-eyed interest. One of them dropped his mop with a clatter. Nolan didn’t wait for a response; he gave a final, terrified nod and practically bolted, disappearing behind the main mast. The seed was planted. The two boys immediately put their heads together, whispers flying, their eyes darting between Griz and the Captain’s door.

  Phase two commenced. Kaelen, a stark contrast to Nolan’s sweaty panic, moved with the unhurried grace of a predator. He was the very picture of noble concern, his brow furrowed just so. He approached a trio of veteran sailors, older men with faces like sea-charts and hands gnarled from a lifetime of pulling rope. They were mending a torn sail in the light of a pair of lamps, their movements practiced and efficient. They looked up as Kaelen approached, their expressions immediately respectful. A knight was a rare sight on a ship like this.

  Kaelen didn’t lean in and whisper. He stood tall, his voice low but carrying, forcing them to give him their full attention. I saw him gesture vaguely towards the younger sailors, who were now pointing not-so-subtly at Griz. I could almost hear his dialogue in my head: Is there some trouble I should be aware of? The crew seems… unsettled. Something about Griz? And the Captain? He was a master. He wasn’t spreading a rumor; he was soliciting information. A concerned officer worried about the chain of command. The veterans’ faces hardened. They exchanged dark looks. One of them spat a stream of tobacco juice over the rail. The fire was catching. Within minutes, the whispers had become a low, buzzing hum that seemed to vibrate through the very planks of the deck. Griz himself finally noticed, frowning as he saw multiple crewmen staring at him before quickly looking away. He scratched his beard, a confused and dangerous look clouding his features. Perfect.

  It was time for the clincher. With a flick of his tail, Bartholomew leaped down from a high railing and trotted directly towards the first mate, a harried-looking man with a permanent squint I’d only ever heard called ‘Blade’.

  “Sir! Oh, thank the abyssal depths I have found you!” Bartholomew cried, his voice an instrument of pure, theatrical panic.Blade stopped, blinked, and stared down at the gray cat.

  “Did you just…?”

  “There is no time for astonishment, man!” Bartholomew hissed, his fur puffed out to twice its normal size. “The very soul of this vessel is in peril! There are murmurings in the dark corners, whispers of injustice and retribution! They speak of loaded dice and a captain’s betrayal!Blade’s mouth hung open.

  “What in the seven hells are you on about, cat?”

  “The man they call Griz! He has become a symbol, a martyr to the crew’s simmering resentment!” Bartholomew declared, taking a dramatic step back. “I fear it is mutiny, sir! A full-blown, bloody mutiny is brewing in the hearts of these men! You must fetch the Captain! Only his presence on deck, his undeniable authority, can quell this rising tide of rebellion before it consumes us all!”

  Bartholomew’s performance was impeccable. But it was the backdrop that sold it. Gibbs’s gaze swept across the deck. He saw what I saw: a crew no longer working, but gathered in tense, whispering knots. He saw the young sailors looking terrified, the veterans looking grim, and Griz looking like a thundercloud about to burst. The fabricated reality was now more real than the truth.

  Panic finally dawned on the first mate’s face.

  “God’s teeth,” he muttered, and without another word, he spun on his heel and hammered on the Captain’s door.

  A moment later, it swung open. Captain Crispin looked annoyed.

  “What is it, damn you? I’m in the middle of…”Gibbs gestured frantically at the deck.

  “Sir, you need to come out here. Now. There’s… trouble.”

  The Captain’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. He saw the silent crew, all eyes on him. He saw the tension. His expression shifted from irritation to a smug, self-important readiness. This was his stage.

  “Trouble, is there?” he boomed, his voice rolling across the deck like a cannonade. “We’ll see about that.” He stomped out onto the deck, Blade trailing in his wake. “What’s all this then? Get back to work, you lazy curs, or I’ll start flogging the lot of you until you remember who pays for your grog!”

  That was my cue.

  Heart hammering against my ribs, I activated Shadow Mask and slipped from behind the ropes. I moved quickly but deliberately, my soft-soled boots making no sound on the wood. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but that would draw attention. I was just a passenger, heading below deck. Nothing to see here. The entire crew’s attention, a hundred pairs of eyes, was fixed on the Captain as he launched into a tirade about loyalty and discipline.

  I reached the open cabin door and slid inside, pulling it almost shut behind me. The cabin was exactly as I’d pictured it: a chaotic mess of maps, half-empty bottles of rum, and discarded clothes, all dominated by a large, ornate desk. And there, at the foot of his unmade bunk, was the sea chest. It was heavy, dark wood, bound in iron.

  My hands trembled as I inserted Griz’s key into the lock. It was ridiculously large and ornate. For a terrifying second, it stuck. I jiggled it, my breath catching in my throat. Don’t fail now. Don’t you dare. With a final, desperate twist, there was a heavy, satisfying clunk. The lock sprang open.

  I lifted the heavy lid. There was a leather purse filled with gold. I grabbed that immediately. Beside that, resting on a bed of faded velvet, was a small logbook and a stone orb about the size of a softball. It was purplish-black and marked with milk-white veins polished to a mirror shine. I had no idea what it was, but it looked valuable and important.

  I snatched the orb and the logbook, shoving them into the satchel at my hip. I didn’t have time to read anything. Outside, the Captain’s voice was reaching a crescendo. My window was closing.

  I eased the chest shut, leaving it unlocked, and crept to the door. I peeked through the crack. The Captain had Griz by the collar now, shaking the massive man as he roared about insubordination. Griz just looked utterly bewildered. It was the perfect distraction.

  Taking a final, steadying breath, I slipped out of the cabin and walked, cool and calm, back to my hiding spot behind the ropes, melting back into the shadows just as the Captain finally released Griz with a shove.

  “Let this be a lesson to all of you!” he bellowed, puffing out his chest. “There is only one authority on this ship, and it is me!”

  He glared around at the now-cowed crew, who were suddenly finding their work very, very interesting again. Satisfied, he turned and stomped back toward his cabin.

  A few minutes later, Kaelen, Nolan, and Bartholomew reconvened with me in our designated corner. Nolan looked like he was about to vomit from residual stress. Kaelen was impassive. Bartholomew was grooming a whisker, the picture of smug satisfaction.

  “Well?” Kaelen asked, his voice a low rumble.I pulled the strange, stone ball from my satchel. It felt cold in my hand.

  “Phase five complete. We got it.”Nolan stared at the bizarre object.

  “We nearly got keelhauled for a souvenir shop rock?”

  “I don’t think it’s just a rock,” I said, looking from the stone to Kaelen’s suddenly intense gaze. “I think it’s waiting.”

  I focused on the orb and activated my Identify skill.

  [Identify: Object]

  [Name: ???]

  [Class: Artifact]

  [An item of worked stone of unknown use or purpose.]

  That wasn’t particularly helpful.

  “My identify skill says it’s an artifact, but not much else.”

  “Then we should probably hang on to it, right?” Nolan muttered, his gaze transfixed on the stone.

  Ding!

  [Quest Updated][The Captain’s Coffers] [Objective Complete][Use the key to open the Captain’s sea chest][Rewards: 150 EXP, 86 Gold, Captains Log, Unknown Artifact][New Objective][Learn the nature of the artifact.]

  [Rewards: ???]

  Oh good. More quests.

  “Well, I just got a quest to find out what it is, so yeah, probably.”