Sea fog shrouded Freehold's mountains as a small warship slowly entered the deserted harbor.
Sails furled, anchor dropped. The ship's passengers slipped into the night and quietly entered the inn by the cliff.
This was Priscilla's second visit to Freehold, and she was in an even worse mood than last time.
The night should have been peaceful, but a giant parrot flew overhead. The damned bird squawked incessantly, spewing insults.
"Idiots, trash, bastards with shit shoved back up your **..."
Priscilla's expression was grim. She did not say a word along the way.
The young male attendant responsible for Priscilla's meals and accommodations in Freehold bowed as he opened the door for her. "Lady Priscilla, Admiral Halaa is inside."
"Same as usual. Go wash up and wait for me in your room." Priscilla waved him away.
Fear crossed the young attendant's face. He instinctively pressed a hand to his waist, then shook his head helplessly.
"It's been a while, Lady Priscilla. Welcome, welcome." The middle-aged man stood five feet tall, his face as broad as a bucket, and wore a fawning smile.
A maid pulled out a chair for Priscilla. Once seated, she said coldly, "Two hundred thousand gold coins in compensation for breach of contract."
The corners of Halaa's mouth lifted. His left hand kneaded the drooping mustache that reached his chin, while his right waved. "Of course, of course. The mission failed, and we certainly bear the main responsibility."
Two burly sailors carried an enormous wooden chest into the sitting room.
"Here's a piece of news for you. The Norwington Family intends to reorganize the Second Fleet. After this failure, I suggest you make your preparations well in advance." Priscilla's gaze settled on the golden skull hanging in the corner, and she sneered.
"But my intelligence network says