The afternoon sunlight slanted across the stone paving of the inn's backyard. Several mercenaries sat in an excited huddle, sipping drinks as they watched the sparring match before them.
Renato stood in the center of the yard, holding a badly bent and warped training sword, his face a picture of boredom.
There was not a drop of sweat on the swordsman's brow. Even the gilded patterns on his pauldrons retained their pristine sheen in the sunlight, without a speck of dust.
Not far away, Selina knelt on one knee, bracing herself with both hands on the two-handed club she had taken from the equipment rack, panting heavily.
The iron-banded club had already split down the middle. Cracks ran from the grip all the way to the end, leaving it on the verge of falling apart.
The gill slits on the sea elf's neck fluttered rapidly as well. Each opening and closing squeezed out a thin wisp of moisture that quickly evaporated in the afternoon light.
Neither her stamina nor the weapon in her hands seemed capable of keeping Selina in the fight.
The search for sea elves in White Harbor had already been entrusted to Pye of the Ironhook Gang. He had thumped his chest and guaranteed that he would scour every shack and dark alley in the Dock District within two weeks.
As for gathering intelligence on the Pickle Barrel, Barnaby also had to wait for further instructions from the Governor's Mansion.
With neither lead yielding any news yet, Renato would undoubtedly be wasting his time trying to track down the other pirates on the wanted posters in streets and alleys he barely knew. So, with nothing else to do, he followed the routine he had developed in Samoriel City and went to the inn's backyard for his daily