1. A pirate washes up at a bar {#a-pirate-washes-up-at-a-bar-1}

Ava should ask the kid if she’s at the capital
A kid on the rocky bank of the floating island vessel stared in disbelief about what he had just seen. A hand shot out of the water, spraying sea in every direction and flopped onto the solid rocks. Another hand holding a broken sword slammed down with more force, and a woman hauled herself up to the air.

Her leather tunic dumped all of its water contents onto the rocks, staining them gray and rapidly evaporating in the hazy heat. She glanced at her broken sword, seemingly only now realising its non-functional status, and tossed it to the side. She yanked off the bandana tying her hair back and squeezed it out. She shook her hands through her hands back and forth, drying it out and spraying water everywhere.

Once she had retied the bandana, she marched up the rocks with a furious determination. The boy caught a glance of her eyes, filled with rage. I like the kid motif, but detail the crashed ship a bit more

She washed up on a Vessel, a landmass with a bridge, the command centre of the craft, and an ethereal glowing engine to the rear that propelled it forward. Find a better way to explain a vessel

The woman clambered up the rocks that bounded the edge of the vessel. Porous boulders that were volcanic grey stretched above her as she exerted herself with each move. At the top, hauling herself over the final rock, a grassy golden hill stretched ahead of her.

She caught her breath for a moment at the sight, and plowed on. At the crest of the hill she paused, looking at the view to her left. Gunners stood at the ready to fire harpoons. But in the position where a final gun should be on the platform, a vast chunk of land was missing. It was as if a god had taken a bite out of the side.

In front of her at the foot of the hill was the start of the town. Further down, the opulent marble structures of a market became more obvious. The streets, the stalls, the steaming bathhouses. It all glistened under the sun, glowing a luminescent white. Delete last line

She made it to a wooden bar. A single shanty-looking building clinging on for dear life in a sea of decadent marble. Prose of paragraphs too flowery?

One hand placed on the entrance, she wiped the fury off of her face and replaced it with a grin.

“Ava!” The man shouted, entertaining dagger glances from the other patrons, “Come here, it’s been too long.” Ava should be shouting this to tracker

Ava trudged over to the corner table the man was sitting and plopped down on the opposing seat, making a loud squelching sound as she did.

“Doing a bit of swimming were we?”

“I need you to track someone for me.”

The man jumped and yanked his bag up to his lap. “No time for hellos, then?” Rewrite Tracker to be his beleagured, reserved, Mike-type character He said as he rifled through and hoiked out a writing pad with scrawled notes going every which way. Dumping that on the table he pulled out a stylus and plopped a small tin pot of black ink on the table.

“This is someone I need to see.”

He dumped his bag back at his feet and looked intently at Ava, stylus in hand. “Go ahead.”

“Her name is Genevere or Genevieve or somethin’.”

He dunked the stylus in the ink, flicking flecks of ink over a splotchy table already coated in the stuff. He scratched the information down. “Physical features?”

“She has long braided blonde hair, tied back like one o’ them prissy aristocrat types.” Next chapter should introduce Genevieve with this information as a callback

“Mhm.”

“Last I saw she was runnin’ with the Scholars, that little book-sniffer.”

He stopped writing and looked up. “That’s going to be tricky. ” Instead just have him close the book and begin packing up

“What, the Scholars? If I had the connections you did, you could just give me a map right now and I’d be able to do it me self.”

“It’s not that—”

“What’s the matter with you? I’m good for the money, trust me this time.”

“I don’t do vengance tracking, Ava, it’s too much hassle. I help track down Mr X for Mr Y, Mr X fails to kill Mr Y and now I gotta look over my shoulder for the rest of my life for Mr X.”

“What the hell are you talking about? All I gotta do is just slit her throat, this ain’t piloting.”

“That’s exactly what Mr X would say. Sorry, Ava.” He slapped the pad shut, making an unfortunate squelch as the ink ran through the pages and dripped out. He shook it off like he had done that too many times and dumped his book in his bag.

“Do you at least know anyone who can do what you do who’s maybe a little more flexible?” Ava asked.

“Nobody can do what I do,” The Tracker replied.

“A chimp could do what you do.”

“Mhm,” The Tracker said as he finished packing up. He stood up, and made moves to exit. “Give me a yell if you have a different job, but I’m out.”

He took a few steps away and Ava looked around in frustration. “A HUNDRED THOUSAND GOLD!” She shouted. The whole establishment froze. Even the fireplace seemed to die itself down to hear what was going on.

The Tracker was the first to move as he slid back into his spot. The rest of the bar slowly returned back it its noisy self. “You’re lying to me to make me stay.”

“Lucky you fell for it because I’m not lying.”

The Tracker narrowed his eyes. “That’s more money than ten people could spend in ten lifetimes.”

“True,” She said, “We could split it fifty-fifty and you could give it to your little runts.”

The Tracker nodded with realisation. “Ah, so you know WHERE a hundred thousand gold is, you just don’t have it. And then you insulted my children. Is this what’s happening?” Man has a kid!? Also this meeting should happen at Tracker’s place so there’s a dynamic with Ava and the kid and juxtaposition between hardened Tracker and innocent kid

Ava threw her arms up in frustration and pointed squarely at the Tracker. “How many times have you doubted me and I’ve shown right back up a few weeks later with a chest under my arm?”

“I’d say a good three in four times.”

Ava smiled in return and leaned back, resting her hands under her head. “Come oon. You’re curious what I have cooking, aren’t you.” The Tracker didn’t respond but his hand moved ever so slightly towards his bag. “Fifty thousand gold, for two weeks of your time. Sounds better than any deal you’ve given me.”

“Can you at least tell me what this is about and kill the suspense act?” The Tracker said.

“Fine. It’s a vessel.”

“A vessel? You want to sell a vessel? A hundred thousand seems a bit hopeful.”

“Oh, but you’ve never seen a vessel with weapons. With concrete defenses that could withstand any attack. With—”

“Let’s say I believe you. Who could you sell this to for that much money?” The Tracker asked. Wait hold up where tf did this plot thread go?

Ava smiled. The Tracker’s reserved facade cracked.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the book. He opened it and the page was completely unintelligable. “You said her name was Genevere, right?” He flicked a few more pages over and dabbed the stylus on his tongue, freshly wetting the ink.

“Yeah, or—” Bad transition, fix transition

2. Making someone wash up at a bar {#making-someone-wash-up-at-a-bar-1}

“Genevieve,” The man in the black cloak stated. Genevieve looked around for imaginary companions who might be able to help her turn around and run away. All she saw was the open ocean and a vessel speeding off in the distance. If it had legs it would be in a full sprint.

“Yeah,” Genevieve replied, readjusting her bag hauled over her shoulder. Should the reason Ava hates Genevieve be what happens in this chapter or should it be hidden for a while? What would it even be?

“Follow.”

Without any flourish, the man rotated on the spot and stepped away from the coast. Genevieve sighed to herself and followed. Makes Genevieve seem petulent, fix everything that doesn’t make her a military person

Genevieve looked in awed confusion at the layout of this vessel. The flat, dark grassy field they had been standing on gave way rather quickly to a thorny forest. Despite the sheer absence of leaves on the trees, it still managed to trap darkness like there was a dense layer of foliage around them. Genevieve, the second she was engulfed in this darkness, took the most marginal of steps closer to the cloaked man.

Occasionally there were “holes” in the treeline that let some of the surrounding land in. Looking further inland one feature dominated all the others. On a gargantuan hillside was a great stone cube. It reflected the morning sun as if it had been polished non-stop for the last hundred years. It hummed at Genevieve, as if trying to talk to her, and she looked back at where she was walking, not breaking her stride.

Eventually they broke out of the forest. Genevieve glanced over at the sullen scholar who looked very much like he was not looking for a conversation. The bridge, planted in the ground, stretched high into the sky at perfect bird-concussing altitude. It looked like a glossy, white stone hammer had been planted into the ground, handle first. Its top was a squashed hexagon point side up and the column it rested on had a walkway of the same material attached that spiralled down to the ground. Have these descriptions interspersed with a terse scholarly description of Genevieve’s duties and what she may not do

Genevieve swore under her breath as soon as it was clear there was no guardrail. She planted her right hand on the central column and made the long journey to the bridge. The higher they got, the more the warm plains air was replaced with a chill and the smell of salty sea spray. Genevieve planted herself with every step, preparing for any sudden winds. The scholar continued floating along as if he was still walking on solid ground.

After an eternity of walking, and with one final rotation, the entrance was open above them. A perfectly cut rectangle in the bottom of the bridge that let the two make their way up to the bridge proper. The hum made Genevieve un-tense her shoulders and sigh with relaxed familiarity. The scholar halted and, at a glacial pace, motioned to the floor. Genevieve dumped her bag on the ground, kicking up dust, and stood at attention holding her hands behind her back.

“You will pilot where we tell you to go. You will ask no unnecessary questions. You will not learn anything we do not wish. You will be paid for your services. You will speak of nothing you see,” he said.

Genevieve nodded.

“We do not bring outsiders into our lordship, but we have lost two of our pilots and you come with outside assurances that you do what is required. You will leave when we deem it fit, and if you break our rules we will ensure your death is painful.”

He stared at her for a few more moments. She looked around and raised her eyebrows when she realised. She stood at ease and moved to the controls. They laid across the panel spanning the room, a brass assortment of levers, switches, buttons, wheels, and lights with no labels and no rhyme or reason. They were cold and decrepit, with the same fine layer of dust that covered everything else in the room.

The scholar observed by the exit as Genevieve got to work, not giving the scholar a second notice. Working through a mental checklist she hopped from control to control, spinning, pressing, pulling, swearing, un-pressing, pressing something else. Soon, the controls roared into life and glowed an ethereal alien mix of greens, reds, yellows, and the occasional blinking orange to keep the driver on their toes. The controls light up inconsistently, concerning Genevieve slightly

Genevieve glanced over her shoulder and the scholar had disappeared. With him gone she reached in her tunic pocket and produced a piece of paper with headings and times scrawled across. She, with one eye on the page and another checking which controls to press, punched in a sequence of inputs and, with a flourish to nobody in particular, yanked the great lever in the middle.

The background hum of the bridge got more intense, raising in pitch and Genevieve gripped the bottom of the panel, bracing herself. The vessel jolted forward, and drifted sideways to orient itself in a heading only one person on the whole vessel knew to reach. Coming to a brief halt, the vessel made a second jolt to blast forward. Checking the back window, Genevieve spotted the vessel that had dropped her off as a speck in the distance. It was heading directly for an ominous, grey cloud formation that cast a shadow on the choppy waves. She looked forward where she was going and sped on, choosing not to think about where they were heading. Or where she was heading.

It should just be Washington observing Genevieve at all times
More mention of solemn non-scholar workers

More mention made of the central cube, but keep what’s inside a mystery until Ava visits it in the future

Genevieve had made the long journey down the bridge back the grasslands. With the vessel having been pushed in the right direction and the choppy waves evening out, there was little more for her to do. A succession of scholars looked over her shoulder, boring their gaze into her skull.

She could tell every time that they had floated their way up by her hair standing on end. They hadn’t given her a place to sleep for the night, and with her bedroll slung over her shoulder she scanned the area for the least uncomfortable patch of hill. Keep for draft 2 chapter?

In the distance a figure wheeled around past the forest, annoyedly yanking and brushing remnants of the forest off of her. Genevieve squinted, this person didn’t have the same hunched, terrified, depressed gait about them.

Two scholars opened the big doors leading to the monestary and the figure dropped down behind the retaining wall. They looked around, locking eyes with Genevieve. The person squinted back at Genevieve, and motioned wildly to come over.

Genevieve shot her back a confused look, but the figure double down on the wildness. Genevieve sighed, looking back at the bridge, and walking over to the person.

Crossing the grasslands was irritating, and Genevieve showed up with two boots full of scraggly straws of grass.

“Can I help you?” Genevieve asked.

The woman had a weathered black coat and scraggly brown hair stuffed into a tricorn hat.

“Yes! How would you like to go about making five gold?”

Genevieve looked with disdain

“Fine, ten gold. I never realised you scholar workers were so stingy.”

Before Genevieve could say anything, Ava pressed the coins into her hand and yanked her down behind the wall. Genevieve opened her mouth, ready to scold, but reserved herself. She stopped moving her hand towards a nearby rock and peeked at the monestary.

“What are you looking for?” She asked.

Ava perked up. “That’s more like it! Everyone’s heart’s got a price.”

“Mhm,” Genevieve said, letting the sliminess wash over her.

“You know where the library is?”

Genevieve nodded.

“Great, there’s a few maps I want to check out. You help me with that and you get another ten coins.”

Once again, before Genevieve could talk Ava pulled her across and to the wooden footbridge that connected the monestary. As they approached closer, the imposing cube seemed to darken everything around them despite the sun being in the wrong direction for shade. Great description of cube for draft 2 chapter, include with initial description as Genevieve is led around

The woman planted herself against the door and pulled her sword out. Genevieve stepped back and the woman jabbed it in between the two doors, lifting the lock up and letting her barge through.

DESCRIBE BIG SCHOLAR’S HALL HERE

Ava holstered her sword and the sound reverberated throughout the entire hall. < Move to chapter when Ava arrives at scholar island She seemed unfazed about how much noise she was making. She motioned forward and Genevieve began marching.

With perfect, rehearsed motions she marched to an invisible beat, twisting around different halls that grew more dusty and decrepit the further they went. On the floor, footprints ran back and forth going in every direction.

Each corridor was illuminated by flickering torches that swayed as the two walked past.

“I’m curious,” The woman began, still looking around the hall with wonder. “Why do you lot hate the scholars so much? Do all you workers hate them for the same reason or have you all got your own issues?”

Genevieve said nothing and continued unabated.

“It’s a mystery to me, you all seem like birds of a feather. Quiet and boring,” She said with a grin. Genevieve gave her nothing to work with.

“You waitin’ for an introduction? I’m Ava.”

Still nothing.

Ava laughed to herself. “You should probably know the ‘strong silent’ type is just someone who can’t talk to people.” < Keep this

Both of Genevieve’s hands had reflexively balled into fist, only not being noticed by Ava who was enraptured by the catacombs. As they proceeded, Genevieve’s breathing got heavier and her heart pounded harder. It hit a peak when she rounded one last corner and a chipped wooden set of double doors greeted them.

“Too good!” Ava whisper-shouted. “I should up your pay for this.” She took a hold of the handle with Genevieve staring intently. “I won’t, but I should.” < Keep this

Ava lifted the handle and blew open the door. She stared in horror at what was in the room. No books, no library, no maps. A plain stone hall containing a perfectly square grid of around a hundred scholars all faced the intruder, their hoods down but their gaze still being felt by Ava.

The crackle of the torches down the hall was the only sound punctuating the moment. Ava opened and closed her mouth to speak but mysteriously no words came out.

Genevieve marched past Ava and pointed at her. “Found this one trying to rob the library.”

Ava’s eyes were ablaze. “You—” She reached for her sword but two firm scholar hands gripped her shoulders and forced her to her knees. One grabbed the sword and yanked it out of the scabbard, dropping it to the ground.

The scholars parted for one of its members up the front to glide over, locking gaze with Ava.

“Let me go you hooded bastard! I’m going to get my sword back and slit all of your throats and then I’ll—” She trailed as she was dragged out of the door.

The scholar glanced at Genevieve.

“Leave, Genevieve,” He shouted.

Genevieve nodded and marched out. She traced the route back out to the front door, the increasingly profane shouting of Ava getting lower and lower.

One Genevieve made it outside, she smiled to herself. Suddenly realising something, she rifled around in her pocket, pulling out the coins Ava gave her. She dumped them into the grass as she walked back towards the bridge.

3. Beating information from a kid {#beating-information-from-a-kid-1}

The Tracker walked out of the capital town hall building. Foot traffic on the cobblestone streets seemed to ebb and flow by the second, like a river in a storm. Ava stood in the middle of the X shaped intersection standing with her arms folded. She stepped forward, bumping past people and not stopping no matter how many obsceneties they threw at her. < Move to chapter 1

“Follow me, I have one lot of business to do before we go.”

Ava began walking down one street, paused, swore to herself, and made her way in the opposite direction with the tracker in tow.

“What’d you get?” She asked.

“Genevieve Sharpsword, no known aliases or residences.”

“I paid you a hundred thousand gold for that?”

“You haven’t paid me. And she’s an Empire pilot.”

Ava raised her eyebrows. “Really. What’s that good-for-nothing scumbag doing on a scholar vessel?”

The Tracker shot her an exasperated shrug that said, ‘What more could you possibly want from me?’

Tracker’s deal is that he doesn’t give out his name, prefers being called “Tracker”

They strode across the decadent smoothstone street. Flanked on all sides by multi-storey smoothstone buildings, all of different shades of earth but with open air windows. As Ava and the Tracker rounded a corner on the outskirts of the market, murmurs of the city transformed into the bustle of a lively market.

“Piss off,” Ava said, shoving off the rather aggressive salesperson with a hundred necklaces on

“So you mind telling me where we’re going?” The Tracker asked.

“You’ll see.”

The further the two walked, the seedier their surroundings became. Leaving behind the cold, smooth marble of the capital proper, they ventured through forests and market districts. Crossing a solid stone bridge from one vessel to another, The Tracker looked over the side as they crossed and looked at Ava.

“We’re really going to poverty alley?”

Ava glanced back at him incredulously. “Where do you think I got my source?”

The Tracker raised his eyebrows with realisation.

Rows upon rows of shabby village townhouses lines the craggly, cobblestone streets. The streets gave no signs of life, save for the occasional howl of wind whistling through.
…

“Oh hi, Ava. Did you find what you were looking f—”

WHAM. With one mean right hook the kid was launched to the ground.

“Oh, I don’t know, did I?” Ava’s coat was still depositing bits of the ocean on the floor.

The kid raised his hands in front of his face. “What happened? Why are you hitting me?”

The Tracker looked hurriedly around the street. It was still just as abandoned.

“You said anyone not wearing a black cloak wasn’t a scholar.”

“That’s right!” He said, still not looking at Ava.

“And that anybody who wasn’t a scholar would be more than willing to help me?”

The kid nodded. Ava motion her hand up, “Get up.”

He shakily made his way to his feet. Ava had a look around the cozy towncottage decked front to back with bare dark wood. The Tracker closed the hole-riddled door behind him and leaned back. “Ava…”

She wheeled around. “What?”

“You’re not going to get any info from a kid in Poverty Alley by beating him up.”

“Watch me.”

The Tracker hurriedly circled around and placed himself between the two. “Give me a shot at this kid. I’ll learn what we need to.”

Ava sighed and walked out, slamming the door behind her. After about ten minutes, once watching rolling fogs blow through the street lost its charm, Ava leaned up against the door. Suddenly, it jolted against her and she stepped off.

Out came Tracker and the kid. “Callum is willing to help take us to the Scholar vessel.”

“Who’s Callum?” She said.

The Tracker sighed and Ava looked at the kid. “Right, of course. Well, Callum, I guess, if I might—“

4. BOOM part 1 {#boom-part-1-1}

If Genevieve’s chapter ended with the start of the merc attack, then have the first magma bomb barrage start here
BOOM. Light flooded into the office as Genevieve looked out at the singed outline of where a wall used to be. Piles of Scholarly regalia and trinkets all collected in the far corner of the room, along with a limp body in a black cloak.

5. BOOM part 2 {#boom-part-2-1}

Tracker passed out in military place after explosion. Ava has to pull him out. Arrested?
BOOM. Smoke billowed up from the clock tower on the central capital vessel. Ava, the Tracker, and Callum all stared agape at where the explosion had gone off. The sounds of panic echoed from the centre and ramped up in intensity as the seconds went by. The people of Poverty Alley finally had cause to show themselves, with some actually opening their doors and peeking their heads out. The others resigned themselves to peeking out of the window and the epicentre.

6. Under attack {#under-attack-1}

It had been only moments before that that limp body was sitting across an opulent desk telling off Genevieve with all of the calm, murderous rage of a scholar. “Do not forget, Genevieve, you were contracted to pilot. This is a gross violation of your duties and you have disrupted our studies.”

“She was going to steal from your library; How are you not furious about that?”

The scholar leaned forward, perfectly resting his elbows on two stacks of scrolls. “You had every opportunity to turn this person in without any showmanship. Instead you grossly violated your duties and interrupted a sacred ritual. It is only through the graces of a few of us that you are still alive.”

Genevieve leaned back. The stacks of books with arcane text on them gave the impression that they were in the office of a hoarder wizard. “What about the thief?” She asked, looking over at the burnt patch of ash overlaying the black, smooth, wooden floorboards.

“As per custom, the delinquent will be sacrificed.”

“Couldn’t happen to a better person,” She said, looking back at the scholar.

The scholar stared at her for a few seconds, giving Genevieve time to take in the sudden flow of musty air that seemed to come from nowhere. “Remember your place, or our mercy will run out.”

Genevieve nodded and stood up at attention. Hands held behind back, she made a few steps towards the door. A wave of sensation made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She looked back and, just as the scholar raised his head to look at her…BOOM.

The whirlwind of fire engulfed the desk and the scholar with it. In the few seconds the hot, white flash of light left her eyes, she saw a hole of melted, 3-inch slag where the wall used to be. The stuffy air of the room flooded out and sea spray made its way in.

She launched over to the scholar. Dead. She ran over to the new window, gripping her sword, and a scraggly, concrete vessel stared back at her halfway to the horizon. < Keep this The cool of the sea air rolled over the still orange glow and vented hot air in her face. The drive structure was still intact and with each barrage of magma bombs they all avoided it perfectly. She breezed back past the body and sprinted out the doorway, down the route that the now-corpse had taken her down once.

Down the gothic halls, Genevieve looked around curiously. Each turn she went down, besides the intermittent shaking of the bombardment outside, the entire structure was as quiet as a ghost. Even the small alcoves containing the recessed candles were dimmer than usual.

One last corner rounded and Genevieve caught dim sight of where the scholars were. The pillared fireplace was split in two and scholars carrying armfuls of scrolls and shabbily bound books into the dark staircase that led down. Each scholar walked at the same pace, flooding in from the two adjacent hallways. One without any documents spotted Genevieve and broke formation, walking over to her.

“Drive room,” He stated.

“Are you kidding me? You all need to grab a weapon to fight off these pirates.”

He looked at her as if she was speaking another language. “Drive room,” He reiterated.

Genevieve did an exasperated half nod/bow and burst open the giant wooden doors. A flood of heat blasted her in the face. The dark forest was engulfed in a ball of fire, feeding off of the rotten trees and foliage. Through the sound of the blaze, Genevieve heard the crunch of a twig behind her.

In one movement she wheeled around, drawing her rapier and pointing it at the hooded figure now in front of her.

“If you kill me you will be put to death.”

Genevieve hastily sheathed her sword with military precision. “My bad. You’re coming with me?”

No response. Genevieve nodded with understanding and turned back at the burning forest. The fire had made quick work of part of the trees and there was a clearing of cinders and ash. Holding her sword hilt, she quick marched through and made her way over the hills.

The landscape was pockmarked with vast craters left by the magma bombs. Occasionally unavoidable, Genevieve had to go down and then up the craters with great effort. Every once in a while she would look behind her, seeing the scholar become a progressively smaller figure behind her.

BOOM. As she hit the drive room, another barrage flew from the rogue vessel. She kept low as the bombs sailed overhead and made direct contact with the far side of the scholar vessel. The scholar finally, and silently, met her. The scholar peered over her shoulder and, in one swift move, tackled her off the rocky edge as the drive room exploded in a grand volley of sparks and fireworks.

It was hard to appreciate the view as she crashed under the surface of the water.

7. A clean heist {#a-clean-heist-1}

Crouched behind the overhanging rusted metal walkway of the Empire’s ill-used dockyard, Ava looked at a most curious sight: A boat. A floating object made of wood made by people. The vessel-district they were on was a crescent shaped landmass mostly papered with sparsely populated Mediterranean forestry.

They were in the crook of the southern tip, staring out at the untied boats that were clattering together. One elderly, beleagured Empire guard wandered from dock to dock, seemingly unaware of the chaotic crashing and smashing of boats and docks together.

Ava squinted and Callum peered over her, keeping one eye on her bruised fist with his bruised eye. The Tracker was absent. Something about a “Idiotic plan that would never work” that Ava mostly ignored. A conch sound rang out and Ava and Callum hit the deck.

“Another lockdown breaker?” Callum whispered.

“If it’s about us this time I’ll make sure to throw you over the railing as a distraction,” Ava said, grinning.

A second conch sound blew and Ava rose to her feet again. The elderly guard took one look at the sun, peered at the sundial at the base of the dock, and walked off. Callum shook his head.

“Is there no other way out of the Capital?”

Ava walked down the walkway and down the creaky stairs.

“Unless you have some way of leaving that won’t get us arrested as suspected terrorists, no.”

Callum lagged behind, but as soon as he stepped on the same stairs, it juddered a few centimetres down, freezing both in place. A cloud of dust and a loose bolt dropped into the water below. Callum gripped the rock wall with all his might, and Ava unflinchingly scanned the surroundings. No conch, no angry guards.

Ava continued walking, but only heard one set of footsteps and looked back at Callum still glued to the wall.

“Come on, you coward.”

“No, no way. I’m staying right here. I’m not going ”

Ava scoffed. “You broke Empire lockdown and you were going to help me steal from them. And THIS is where you draw the line?”

“That drop has a much higher chance of killing me than ”

“Suit yourself,” Ava said with a shrug, “You know how to sound like a seagull?”

He looked at her, confused.

“You know, the bird? The big white bird that—”

“Yeah I know what a seagull is, why?”

“Make that sound if you see someone come by.” She left the shaking kid at the top of the platform and stomped her way down the ardiously long stairs. She made her way halfway, turned, and went down the other half of the stairs, the rickety platform shaking the whole time.

She hit the dull thud of the wood of the dock and scanned her surroundings. The rock arch had running under it a single dock platform that abruptly turned left out of view. There was just the howling wind and the clattering of ships. No guards, no conch, no seagulls.

Ava walked along the dock, scanning for any ships that wouldn’t completely fall apart after hitting a small wave. Going to a dock for nearly-derelict ships has its drawbacks.

The sound of a pathetic attempt at a bird call rang out and Ava whipped her head to the entrance of the dock. A different, younger guard marched around the corner from behind the rock arch and was making a beeline straight towards Ava.

She muttered furiously under her breath and walked up to the approaching guard.

“I’m so glad you’re here, can you help me?” She asked.

“You understand this area is off limits for civillians, right?” He replied.

He had matted, blonde, sandy hair that seemed to almost completely cover his eyes.

“That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you, I’m lost and I need help getting back to the market. Could you help me with that?”

He continued staring at her and gestured towards the walkway. “That your man?”

She looked up and saw two guards with their swords at the throat of her now shaking companion. The guard in front of Ava took out his sword and motioned towards the archway entrance. “This way.”

8. A soldier and a smuggler {#a-soldier-and-a-smuggler-1}

The ringing had finally left Genevieve’s ears so long after the explosion. She stood up on the console fragment looking at the smouldering wreck where the drive tower was.

“Sorry about that,” Genevieve said, “Looks like it’ll be about a century before another one regenerates.”

She glanced at the scholar who was defiantly standing, back to Genevieve, glaring out at the concrete vessel. A chill ran through her as his rage radiated out to her. She sighed and walked beside him.

“We need to get out of here.” No response. She considered for a moment, looking behind her at a potential climbable path that a magma bomb had created, and looked back at the scholar. “The only ships available to us—”

“We need to leave. We need to leave and I will come back with the full might of the Scholar Brotherhood. Every man and woman who has raught this horror upon my bretheren will be torn limb from limb. A sacrifice to their inhumanity.”

What motivation does Genevieve have to help out Washington, and is it enough to sustain the plot at the beginning?

Geneveive stared blankly at him, realising that she was standing at attention a lot more stiffly that she expected. “The…the wall behind you looks climbable. We can use that to get back to the vessel.”

He nodded morosely and they leapt into the water. Genevieve hauled herself the good ten metres up the rock face and instinctively lowered a hand. The scholar ignored her hand, and was distinctly uncloaked. He had on what looked like a mixture of white cloth and bandages wrapped around him. He shot her a look that said: “You tell anyone and you die.”

Genevieve was only standing here what could have been about an hour ago, and yet the landscape was entirely purged. The ringed forest that was the centrepiece of the scholar vessel’s ecosystem was nothing but still-smoking cinder and ash.

“The docks are less than half a league that way,” The scholar said, pointing to his right, “We can walk the length of the coast to make it there.”

Genevieve looked at him with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

He stared, betraying no emotion.

“We can’t just leave. We need to ascertain who attacked you. And I’m really going to need a name if we’re going to continue arguing.” < Keep that

“Washington,” He replied.

“Right, Washington, do you know where the nearest island is? Because I certainly don’t. In situations of unknown information, any scrap of detail is of utmost priority.”

He shook his head. “I need to inform the rest of the brotherhood and destroy the invaders who have slain so many of us.”

“And what are you going to tell them? That ‘Some people’ attacked? If we have a chance in hell of making it out of here alive, we need to know more.”

“Genevieve—”

“And proof? What about proof. A mercenary band name, a pirate vessel name, anything!”

“Genevieve!”

“No, I—”

“Genevieve, GET DOWN!” Washington said in a panic, before collapsing prone into the grass. Genevieve did much the same and rotated to face the same direction.

Two of the soldiers were marching, swords drawn, towards them. She squinted at the uniforms they were wearing. It was similar to her blue military garb, but a different shade and with what looked like painted on symbols.

The soldiers weren’t looking at the two, and Genevieve kept her right hand planted firmly on her sword hilt. She was tapped on the boot and Washington motioned to their right. A tiny cove entrance was just a few feet away. Washington crawled over and seemed almost instantaneously absorbed by it.

The sounds of marching were drawing closer, she rolled over and tried to squeeze in. Her sword was caught just outside the entrance. Louder marching, the mercenaries were where they had just rolled from. She hastily undid her belt and her sword clattered as she dropped a few inches down. The soldiers stared daggers directly at her as her leather tunic was just too big to fit.

“Hey!” One of them shouted.

In one broad stroke Genevieve yanked her sword out of its sheathe and sliced the laces holding it together. She dropped onto the rocky floor of the cave and rolled out of the way of the lone shaft of light.

“Damnit where does that cave lead?”

“I don’t know. Beat it out of one of the cloaks.” < Mercs call the Scholars “Cloaks”

An uncomfortable grumbling sound came from the other side of the light shaft. Genevieve squinted and could just about make out Washington’s sillhouette.

“Chief says the cloaks are safe. I’ll find a worker, you stay put.” One marched off.

Genevieve dashed over to Washington, still keeping an eye on the opening, and they both retreated further into the cave.

“Are you alright?” Genevieve asked.

“I’ll ensure you’re paid double,” Washington mumbled.

“Hm?” She asked.

“You ensure my safe passage to the brotherhood and I’ll make sure that you are paid double your rate for the job.”

Genevieve winced and felt her shoulder. Hot, wet, and throbbing with a sharp pain. < KeepHer hand came back covered in blood. “Keep it, I’m maintaining my original rate.”

Washington looked confused.

“This isn’t about money. This is about duty.”

Washington nodded and walked off. “This is one of many traps we’ve set for intruders, albeit one that has been overgrown for a while. However, it leads a good distance to the docks. If the trap avoidance mechanisms still work.”

They set off, with Genevieve less and less assured of her ability to stay alive.

The further into the cave they drew, the more distinct the smell of sea breeze came to the fore. They had spent the trip arduously stopping every few feet for Washington to cut a wire here and there with something she couldn’t see. Their half-fathom trip had ballooned into a hot, muggy death march.

The light hit them both in the face. They were both soaked in sweat, heads lower while they walked than they thought. Washington had sweat entirely through his clothing. Once their eyes readjusted, Genevieve hastily motioned Washington to the side of the cave.

Soldiers wearing the same uniform completely dotted the landscape. They were spaced out in equal portion with a full battallion concentrated around the central cube. Scholars were marched out, the few that Genevieve hadn’t seen enter the secluded bunker. One soldier, the only one with a helmet, marched in front of them marching in Empire fashion.

Keep the entire merc sequence of killing scholars, new chapter 8?

There was a few seconds of talking with one of them before they nodded at another soldier, and the Scholar was unceremoniously stabbed, collapsing to the ground.

Genevieve glanced over at Washington but didn’t turn to look at him. Just out of her peripheral vision she could see him shaking as the next scholar in line was talked to, and similarly disposed of. Genevieve tapped him on the shoulder. Nothing. She did it again and he flicked over to her. She motioned her head towards the bobbing ships in the distance.

He took one long look at the final scholar to be killed and pressed on.

Keep sequence of picking out ship, none really seaworthy, only just good enough to make it to mercenary island

When the docks came into view the situation became more dire. Ships were fused together, masts and decks blackened and charred. The lucky ones were mostly sunk, with a nub of mast being the only thing above water.

“Shit, none of these ships are taking us anywhere.”

Washington scanned up and down the docks, looking at one that looked mostly intact. “This one.”

She jogged over and looked up and down the mast. “The sail is almost completely singed off. The only place we could go in any reasonable amount of time is…” She glanced over at the concrete vessel, almost perfectly aligned with the mouth of the port. “…oh no.”

“They’re over here!” A soldier shouted. He rushed down the dune alone and sprinted towards them, weapon in hand. Genevieve hopped aboard the ship, drawing her weapon. But, from behind the bow she could her a blood-freezing scream.

She looked out. Washington, ornate dagger in hand, was slicing the mercenary limb from limb. She almost dropped her sword as Washington silently cut the sinew out of the mercenary’s throat.

The mercenary gurgled from every new orafice as Genevieve rushed over. The light drained from his eyes in the few seconds it took Washington to stand back up and wipe the matter off of his bandaging.

Genevieve walked up to the corpse and scanned it up and down. Black hair, stocky, limp eyes beaming directly at her. She whipped out her sword, causing Washington to take a step back. Using a sword much too large, she sawed a portion of the mercenary’s tunic with a logo. It was a black, flat eye that had a cross running behind it.

Washington looked at her and the corpse.

“This must be the symbol of their band. If you’re looking for your brotherhood buddies to take you seriously, we’re gonna need proof.”

He nodded and they stepped off what was left of the dock and onto the near-derelict ship. As the tattered sails unfurled and the ship lazily drifted off towards the concrete jungle ahead, the vision of the corpse flashed in front of her eyes for a second. She sighed, rubbed her eyes, and didn’t look back at the scholar vessel.