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The Gallant Il-Am-Hakim stood upon the breast of his ship, a new covenant in one hand and his spyglass in another. The sea spat saltspray, but he only smiled in return.

"Shall we beat to quarters, sir?" He nodded, and stepped down from his vantage point. His prize would not escape him this time.

Allowing a moment of weakness, he slipped into his cabin to confront his prisoner. Though she seemed nothing but a delicate flower, he knew her words to be poison.

He cleared his throat. "Madam, do you hear the drums? We have found your brother, and he will soon pay for his crimes."

The Dark Elf raised her head from her hands. "You think this concerns me? You are a fool." Her face, streaked with salt, turned away from Il-Am-Hakim. "My brother would see me dead for my betrayal. His death means my freedom."

The captain frowned at her remarks. He could not help but wonder if this was the way of royalty from other lands as well as his own. Would his patron think of him as disdainfully, when his ship next set port?

He turned on his heel and shut the cabin door behind him. But not before he saw the glint of sharpened steel from the Dark Elf's hand.


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