"Sorry, sorry — we'll be going now."
The moment the pirates scrambled away in a panic, Danitz turned to Bernadette with an easy grin. "Don't feel like you owe me one just yet — I'm here to collect money too. But here's the difference: I'm not robbing you. I'm charging a service fee for getting rid of those nuisances. And I'm only asking for half your fortune, not the whole thing — and I won't lay a finger on you. Those lot back there? Even if you'd handed everything over, you'd still have gotten a beating. Or worse."
"So really, running into me today is your lucky break."
Bernadette smiled pleasantly. "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing — running into me is your lucky break."
"???
Before he could process that, vines had appeared out of nowhere and coiled around him, hoisting him into the air. He thrashed and tried to summon his fire crows, but the moment a spark appeared in his palm, it snuffed right out. The vines he'd expected to snap like wet string held fast as iron chains.
Oh no.
He'd thought he was reeling in a lamb. Turned out he was the lamb.
"AAAAAH!"
Then he heard panicked screaming from beside him — the five pirates who'd fled moments ago had been strung up by vines too, dangling on either side of him.
Danitz's mind was racing through escape plans at full speed.
Crack.
One of the men's necks was twisted clean through. The one who'd told Bernadette to take her clothes off. Dead on the spot.
"!!!"
His pupils shook. He shouted quickly: "Don't kill me — I'm Blazing Danitz, worth three thousand pounds in bounty! Hand me over to the authorities and collect the reward!"
Vincent, residing inside Bernadette: "..."
Bernadette let out a soft laugh. "For the bounty, your head is plenty."
"But — my head is only three thousand pounds! I have property — deeds, real estate — worth far more than that! Let me go and I'll hand over every last deed to you!"
"Oh, thank you. I'll collect all of it through spirit communication after you're dead."
"???"
...Right. She can do that. I completely forgot.
Think, think! How do I get out of this?!
I haven't lived enough yet. I haven't even had the chance to confess to my captain!
I don't want to die.
Wait—
He seized on the thought like a drowning man grabbing driftwood. "If — if you hand me back over to my captain, I swear — she'll pay you far more than any bounty!"
"And who is your captain?"
"Vice Admiral Iceberg! Vice Admiral Iceberg Edwina Edwards!"
"Ah. So you're one of Edwina's people."
Bernadette didn't know Edwina particularly well herself, but her ancestor, who was like an uncle to her family, had known the woman's lineage for years. She felt a natural warmth toward Vice Admiral Iceberg.
She glanced at the charges visible to her through the Prosecutor's perception. Danitz's primary crimes were murder and robbery — serious, but not on the same scale as certain others. With a flick of her fingers, the vines unwound themselves. Danitz dropped to the ground with a thud, breathing hard, still not quite believing it. "You're... not going to kill me?"
He'd been bluffing with that last offer, honestly. Claiming to be one of a Pirate Admiral's crew could either scare off small-timers or paint a target on your back for people hunting trophies. He hadn't really expected it to work.
"Do something for me."
Danitz scrambled to his feet instantly. "Yes. Yes, of course. Whatever you need."
"No rush."
Bernadette looked at the four men still dangling in mid-air. She struck a match between her fingers. It flared to life, reflected in four pairs of widening pupils. "You're going to take me to the evidence that proves every crime you've committed."
The four men's expressions went glassy and unfocused. "...Yes."
Bernadette glanced at Danitz. "Move."
"On it!"
Danitz snapped out of his private thoughts and fell into step. Vice Admiral Iceberg's crew had been his gambit — and somehow it had worked. But beneath the relief was a cold knot of anxiety at what came next.
If word gets back to the Golden Dream that he'd helped someone put Blood Admiral's crew on trial... well, at least his reputation would be interesting.
That afternoon, around four o'clock. A busy square in Bayam.
Travellers, merchants, and pirates moved through the crowd in a steady stream. Then, quite suddenly, a loud clang clang clang rang out, followed by a yellow-haired man shouting at the top of his lungs:
"Eyes over here, everyone! Step right up!"
People stopped and turned toward the hollering "blondie" — which was to say, toward Danitz.
He squeezed out the most convincing smile he could manage, feeling precisely like a circus clown making a complete fool of himself in front of the entire city. But he couldn't resist, so he'd have to endure.
As long as no one recognises me. As long as word of this humiliation never reaches the Golden Dream.
"Hey, isn't that Blazing Danitz?"
"The Blazing Danitz from the Golden Dream? I've seen his bounty poster — three thousand pounds!"
"He's got some nerve showing his face in broad daylight and making this much noise. Doesn't he know the authorities are around?"
Your eyes are too bloody sharp, the lot of you.
Once enough attention had been gathered, Bernadette had the four pirates march forward on their knees, bound and terror-stricken. By now the paralysis of the match-lit trance had worn off — they were acutely, horribly aware of what was about to happen.
Not long ago, these same men had been guided — by their own hands — to retrieve every piece of evidence of their crimes. Witnesses, physical evidence, murder weapons. Every last piece was assembled.
They hadn't even thought to hide it when they'd done these things. The victims had all been bottom-rung indigenous Roselle natives — the sort no one was supposed to care about. That was what they'd told themselves.
"The charges against the following suspects — Richard Holtz, Kevin Faire, Princeton, and Hughes Iven — are as follows."
Bernadette read aloud from the prepared indictment. "Richard Holtz: on the 12th of June, 1349, at two in the morning on Rum Street in Bayam, committed breaking and entry, robbery, murder, and assault..." She listed the details of four separate murders before looking to Danitz, who produced each piece of evidence and held it up for the crowd to see.
"...The evidence is determined to be conclusive and sufficient. The accused Richard Holtz is found to have committed intentional homicide under Article Four of the Bayam Safety Codes, rape under Article Eight, Clause Five, robbery under Article Fifteen..."
She looked at the man kneeling on the ground. "Accused Richard Holtz — do you have any objection to these charges?"
"..."
The pirate shuddered and looked up, dazed.
"Since there is no objection, this court delivers the following verdict: all charges of robbery, murder, rape, and related offences are confirmed. The circumstances are egregious. Multiple counts are hereby to be punished concurrently — the sentence is death... to be carried out immediately."
Bernadette swept her gaze across the watching crowd. Some murmured to each other. Some still wore amused expressions. Some pointed and whispered — most of them treating this as an elaborate spectacle. Was this a joke? A performance? Was any of it real?
Then Bernadette switched to the Words of Order, and spoke quietly:
"Richard Holtz — you are guilty."
"You killed. You raped—"
In accordance with the most fundamental law of the Words of Order — those who kill shall die — a rope materialised out of thin air and looped around the man's neck, yanking him upward. He thrashed and clawed at nothing, his movements slowing, slowing, until the fight went out of him entirely. His face turned the colour of old bruises.
The crowd froze.
"AHHHH!"
Someone screamed. The square erupted in chaos — a few fled immediately; the rest, gripped by something between revulsion and compulsion, stayed rooted to the spot. Because if it wasn't a performance anymore—
"Kevin Faire, on the 30th of June, 1349, at six in the morning on Peppermint Street in Bayam—"
Bernadette moved to the next name without pause. Kevin Faire had committed murder, rape, and robbery. He yelled that he was innocent, that the charges were lies. Bernadette invited him to produce counter-evidence.
He could not.
"In the absence of effective counter-evidence, this court's original verdict stands."
"Kevin Faire — you are guilty."
Crack.
A gleaming white guillotine blade fell from the sky like a knife through butter, and the man was split in two. Bright red blood rushed outward like a burst dam, and the thick iron smell of it filled the square.
This was considerably more visceral than the first execution. Another wave of screaming. More chaos. But the crowd didn't thin — it grew.
"Accused Princeton—"
One by one, Bernadette read the remaining two indictments, presented the evidence, delivered the verdicts. One man burned. One man was bisected at the waist.
By the time the last sentence was carried out, the crowd around the square was larger than when it had started. When it was done, someone whooped. Then another. Then a scattered tide of applause and shouted approval rolled through — indigenous people, explorers, travellers, and yes, even pirates among them.
Most of them had seen death before. But none of them had ever seen it quite like this.
That was when Bernadette felt it — the potion beginning to digest.
The bad news: not by much.
The good news: there were no shortage of pirates in the world.
To be continued…
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