Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

13 | The Confusion of Uncertainty

The deck was loud, the majority of the crew already gathered underneath the darkening sky. Bardarian stood atop his balcony, Bates perched next to him, looking tinier than usual.

They'd called a crew meeting as soon as the Avourienne started sailing again, but Archer didn't know what it was about. The only thing he could think of was the pain in his leg—Silta had most definitely torn at least one of the muscles there. He'd limped up the stairs stupidly a few minutes ago and now he stood, refusing to admit how badly he needed to sit. He glanced around the deck.

"She's not here yet," Denver said.

"I wasn't looking for her," he said back.

He had obviously been looking for Silta—but only to see if he could lean against the rail and take some of the pain away without anyone seeing.

Bardarian cleared his throat, causing silence to ensue. He spoke, voice carrying through the dead ocean, "To start off the night, I applaud your performance amidst the Forlorn. It's always disappointing to call off a long-time alliance, but all things must end at some point. As for the Avourienne, she's ready to swim again. We will continue sailing for Kingsland at once."

"Are we stopping at Port Kiver?" shouted Starle, who was on the far side of Archer, closer to the balcony.

Bardarian leaned his forearms against the rail, looking so infuriatingly comfortable. "Yes," he answered. "Having thrown most of our ammunition into Kernite's ship, we'll have to restock."

"A cannon restock?" questioned Denver from. The tone in his voice made Archer turn and notice the excitement on his friend's face.

"Yes, Tolva," the Captain said, a controlled smile spreading.

"What's different about a cannon restock?" Tanner asked.

Archer had completely forgotten about his roommate's existence, but Tanner never seemed afraid to ask a question that put himself in the crosshairs of his less-than-forgiving crew.

"A cannon restock requires us to do a little scheming," Bates said, that childlike excitement still playing on his face.

"As most of you know, cannons are manufactured most reliably in royal ports such as Port Kiver." The moonlight glinted in Bardarian's eyes.

Denver leaned in to explain to Archer in a whisper, "Any port that starts with a 'K' is in direct affiliation with the King."

Bardarian continued, "In order to steal cannons from the royal stocks, we'll have to formulate a plan, which has already been, for the most part, concocted by our strategists."

When he said the last word, Bardarian gestured to Britter and then again behind the crowd. If he hadn't made the motion, Archer wouldn't have noticed Silta leaning against the mainmast. She must've appeared quietly sometime after Bardarian started talking. As he turned around to look, he could see her wearing a high neckline despite the warm air. She was hiding her injuries, just like Archer.

He turned around, back to Bardarian. Denver leaned in to whisper again, "I passed by her belowdecks earlier. You really did a number on her. She's black and blue under there."

Archer didn't reply. In the moment of anger on the beach, he'd meant to hurt her. But now, he felt like he went too far. He wasn't sure he wanted praise for having hurt somebody—if he did, it proved her vicious points right.

"Port Kiver is hosting an event to celebrate the appointing of a new head general," Bardarian was saying. "The storages are behind the government building, but we'll need the weapons manager to open them. He'll be in the main building."