Whitesummit was desolate as ever, the strange never-ending snowstorm that surrounded it chilled Sif as his ship approached. He’d decided to go through the proper entrance to Blackwater. It would most likely mean a fight, but hopefully -If he could get a word in edgewise- Sif could avoid an altercation. He called his men to raise the sails as they pulled into port, and he tied his ship to the docks. As he finished the knot he felt a fist slam into his face. Rolling his eyes he spat out the dribble of blood the blow caused and turned to the criminal.
It was a bulky woman well-built with the muscles of a boxer. That’s what she was it seemed, the gloves were a dead giveaway. Before another blow could be made Sif grabbed her hand in a block, she stopped looking at him with terror.
“Don’t worry I’m not lookin’ fer trouble, at least not with you common folk,” She put her hand down and glared at him.
“I recognize you, Pollux right?”
“That’s the name.” She seemed to relax somewhat.
“So, why does Blackwater Grotto have the honor to host the great Captain Pollux?”
“I’m lookin’ fer someone,”
“Sorry, all our cabarets are closed.” Sif again rolled his eyes.
“Not lookin’ fer that either,”
“Then what?”
“I’m lookin’ fer a criminal-”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place. Whole cave’s crawling with ‘em, poor folk, mad folk, even a few families who couldn’t get crops planted in time. Which are you planning on executing today?”
“Not petty criminals, ma’am a dangerous one. A scourge on the Bronze Seas.”
“That’s able to describe many of the fine folks that live here,” Sif, growing tired of dancing around what he was trying to say.
“I’m lookin’ fer Architect Merlot,” The woman laughed, a harsh noise befitting someone of her appearance.
“You got a death wish sailor boy? Man’s ruthless, powerful, and pays his tab,”
“Thank you fer the warnin’ but I know quite well what the Waltz o’ Death is capable of.” The woman smiled, a wolf-like grin creeping across her face.
“Alright, this should be entertaining I’ll tell the others not to try and kill you as soon as you walk in,”
“Thank you fer the courtesy,”
“Ha. Don’t mention it I’m just doing this 'cause you’re going to die anyway.” Sif rolled his shoulders, trying to shove back the discomfort he felt as he passed the threshold into the cave. Blackwater was always an unsettling place, like something out of a novel it was the perfect ideal of a poverty-ridden shanty town. He tried to ignore but… Storms did the Navy truly have nothing they could do to help these people? If they were driven to crime out of necessity then shouldn’t we work to help them move away from that? These ideas were too big to deal with at the current moment.
He felt the glares of the people burning into the back of his head. They despised him after all he was a renowned Navy Captain his being here meant trouble. Sif wished he could assure them himself, but they would never listen to a so-called Dog of the Navy. Brushing them off, he approached a man sitting at a table nursing some sort of blue drink. He was a stocky man, with muscles like a cannon and a stormy expression accented by the lightning that occasionally sparked off him. He had pale skin, freckles on his face, and wind-swept hair colored white and gray like a storm cloud. Sif’s brother Alex.
Sif sat down at the table, and Alex spared him a glance. When he realized who he was however Alex’s full attention bared down on him.
“And what in blazes are ye doin’ ‘ere?” Sif smiled at hearing an accent so similar to his own.
“Huntin’ a bounty, what are you doin’ ‘ere thought you were in rehab,”
“I was, but just because I kicked the addiction don’t mean I can’t enjoy some old friends responsibly.”
“Ya know that stuff’ll kill you one day,”
“Please, I don’t drink enough to get drunk anymore. The energy though, well it’s better than a cup o’ coffee in the morning.” Sif placed his head in his hands, but Alex continued talking. “So who are ye lookin’ fer?”
“Merlot, you know where ‘e is?” Alex’s face darkened like a storm cloud blocking out the sun.
“Yeah, I know where that stormin’ man is, why you lookin’ fer ‘im?”
“Gonna arrest ‘im,” Alex, brought a hand to Sif’s shoulder, and for once Sif didn’t wince. Alex and Iris were the only ones who could touch him without it being painful.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Surer than the sun rises in the east.” Alex nodded.
“Alright,” He pointed towards a sign that said “No Trespassing.” “‘e’s in there, but Sif, little brother. The man’s a monster, ‘e foights like a White-Eyes. I know ye took down Calvus, but Merlot could do that with his ‘ands tied.” Sif knew his brother was telling the truth.
“I hafta at least try. If we let that beast roam the seas with no contest, it sets a dangerous precedent,” Alex sighed.
“Alright, yer gonna foight ‘im fine. At least take this,” He dug in his bag and pulled out an orange-tinted glass sphere.
An Arcsphere! Storms how’d ‘e managed to get one of those? Sif gingerly picked up the sphere, and as he did it filled with golden light attuning itself with Sif’s magic.
“That should prove useful,” Alex said reaching for another object in his bag. “But this will make it even better.” It was a thin cord of something metallic, Alex touched it to the sphere and instantly it shrunk and the cord tied itself around the object forming a necklace.
“Got that from a metal mage, pretty ‘andy bit o’ magic,”
“I… I don’t know what to say.”
“A fank you would be noice,” Sif crossed the table and embraced his brother.
“Thanks, Alex,”
“Yeah, yeah. Now get out there and show that assassin what fer!”