There was a shout. He hadn’t realised he’d fallen asleep, and when he looked out of his window, he saw it was dark.
                Simeon burst through his cabin door and looked out. For a moment he wondered if he’d dreamt that call.
                He took his time to evaluate, from his estimates; they were half way up the Rocke River. Dawnrose was in sight some way away, its great spires looming eerily in the darkness, only illuminated by a few fires lit in the many rooms that riddled them as the ant holes of Victum.
                But what truly drew his attention now, was the ship that slowly approached them.
                Simeon knew exactly why they had called out to him. He had to make the decision. Avoid the Dawnrose officials and attempt to move past them, or allow them to board.
                More fucking officers. He could feel his mind twist with anger.
                Simeon breathed deeply, in and out, cooling his mind down. Now was the time to see if Garrin had screwed him over or not.
                “What should we do Simeon?” The tone of his first mate was riddled with concern. He hadn’t yet told them the plan, but these boys would follow him to the heart of Aridia if need be.
                “Keep the boat still, prepare to be boarded.” He walked back to the door of his quarters and thought of something. He turned around. “Oh, and when they get here, don’t say nothing. I have a plan.” Let’s hope this one don’t go to shit too.
                Inside, on top of his desk, a sheaf of papers lay strewn about amongst a bundle of documents he’d been told to deliver. Apparently documents that could get him in trouble. Simeon didn’t like the sound of that, and he couldn’t really discover their importance, because he was not the best reader, and these were all written with close-knit joined up lettering that sent his head spinning like he’d drank one too many.
                Simeon grabbed these documents and bent down underneath his writing desk. With a bit of effort, he pulled up a board in the floor and stashed them inside.
                Ain’t a great many ships can do this.     
                Once back up top, he saw the ship was far closer. It was a big galley, a pretty thing that bore the sigil of the Dray’s on the sails and ornate curvature in the wood work. Regardless of the situation, he could admire a good ship when he saw one.
                Gradually, the ship pulled closer to the his own corvette.
                He had a long history with officers, most of it bad. It took a lot of effort just to be civil with some of the things they’d tried to pull on him.
                The ships came level; the captain hailed him, and lashed them together. He stood right at the rail of the starboard. What was most obvious was how fanciful he looked. His hair was light and long, falling easily to his broad shoulders. He looked young, yet a little weatherworn.

The End

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