Angus Thompkins

Night had settled over Lisbon in a blanket of amber lantern light and distant music, the sprawling port city glittering beneath a sky strewn with stars as dozens of ships rocked gently within the crowded harbor. The smell of salt, tar, spilled ale, and woodsmoke drifted through the air, mingling with the sound of sailors shouting from the docks and musicians playing somewhere deeper within the city. It was a living thing, the port at night, loud and unruly and wonderfully awake. The Harrowing Tide sat proudly among the forest of masts, her dark hull illuminated by swaying lanterns while crewmen hauled the last of the stolen cargo below deck. Their latest prize had been worth every ounce of effort, a fat merchant vessel caught several days earlier and relieved of enough gold, spices, silks, and luxury goods to keep the Leviathan's Sons drinking for months. Naturally, they intended to begin immediately. The gangplank had barely touched the dock before Donny barreled past everyone else, bottle already in hand. "If any bastard asks," he announced loudly, pointing toward nobody in particular, "I personally won us that bloody merchant ship."

"You got thrown overboard," Finn replied.

"I got back on, didn't I?"

"You screamed."

"I was issuing tactical instructions."

"You screamed for your mother."

Donny pointed accusingly at him. "That's slander."

The argument dissolved into laughter as the crew spilled onto the docks, jostling one another toward the largest tavern overlooking the harbor, its open doors pouring warmth, music, and drunken shouting into the street. Sailors packed every visible table, dice rattled, tankards slammed together and someone was already losing a fight near the entrance. Near the back of the group, Angus strolled along at a leisurely pace, hands tucked into his pockets while his grey eyes wandered over everything around him. His long golden hair shifted across his shoulders with every step, hiding the slight flare of his ears beneath loose strands. Fresh bruises darkened his knuckles and jaw, lingering reminders of the battle that had secured their fortune, though they seemed only to improve his mood.

The fight still lingered pleasantly beneath his skin. He could almost feel it, the rush of battle, the thunder of cannon fire, the exhilaration of leaping from one ship to another while sensible men questioned his sanity. Humans fascinated him endlessly, but nowhere were they more interesting than after surviving something dangerous. Hours earlier men had been willing to kill one another for coin. Now they would spend that same coin on music, alcohol, and company before the night was through.

Absurd creatures. Wonderful creatures.

For a moment he lingered there. The harbor stretched before him, moonlight dancing across dark waters beyond the forest of anchored ships. Somewhere far beyond the horizon lay oceans he had yet to explore, storms he had yet to chase, mysteries he had yet to uncover. And somewhere far below those waters... Home. The thought surfaced briefly before he shoved it aside. Not tonight. Tonight there was music, coin, alcohol and trouble. Preferably in that order, a slow smile spread across his face as he finally pushed open the tavern door and stepped inside after the rest of the crew, grey eyes sweeping across the packed room full of strangers. "Now then," he drawled, voice carrying easily through the noise, "which one of you fine people is about to become the best mistake I make all evening?"