The Knights of Duros. One of the three Knight Orders serving under the Crown. They represent the pinnacle of honor and skill amongst those who swear fealty to the monarchy and all it upholds. 

"To maintain a well-trained and mobile force that can be used to accomplish any manner of quests presented by the crown, and at its whim."

"To be a deterrent against the darkness and wild nature of the world."

"To stabilize and represent the High King's authority over the Marsh Flats, King's Valley and Zeinav Desert regions of Charon."

Tenets. An old practice. Few uphold such things these days, but the traditions are rooted deep. These orders were founded by specific prominent families throughout Charon, but recently they have opened their arms to welcome outsiders to join their prestigious ranks. It's unheard of. Especially for one half-elf who is rediscovering the whole world as if everything is brand new to him. 

Everett's travels have exposed him to all sorts of people, places, and things. Not all good, not all bad, and definitely not all helpful in his attempts to reclaim his lost memories. It's been harrowing, mostly in that every time he thinks he's maybe made some progress, something else happens that sets him back to square one.

How many times now has he woken back up not knowing where he was? How many faces has he not recognized for the first few seconds before their name comes to mind?

It's near maddening. 

In his desperation for any forward progress, he's responded to the Knights of Duros recruitment call. Something about being part of something that serves the public, that serves the crown, that feels natural to him. It feels right. And so far going with his gut has gotten him the farthest in understanding who he was before, and who he wants to be now. 

Still, one does not just walk up to a Knight Order and immediately be accepted. There's procedure and a process to this whole thing. Specifically, one must prove themselves worthy of the rank of a Knights of Duros by doing something of significant heroic service for Charon. Not a trivial wall to clear, especially when there are so many adventurers responding to calls for aid without even wanting to enter the ranks of the Knight Orders. That's probably a good problem to have, but it does leave him at a loss for what to focus on. 

That is, until he hears word of a group of pirates causing a stir in the Luna Sea just off the coast of King's Valley. They haven't done anything too high profile yet, but rumor is that they are planning on making bigger moves while the Legion of the Dark Sun is deployed in the Ash Lands. While King's Valley is the stomping ground for the Knights of Duros, they have been preoccupied with tracking down the location of Scern, a terrorist who managed to escape the Citadel in the past year. 

The idea of hunting down these pirates and putting a stop to their machinations seems so...familiar, to him. Like he's done it before. Maybe this time, he'll finally get some insight. At the very least, if successful, he'll have a more stable source of income and be able to do more good around the nation. 

That would sort of depend on how things go, and if he and the other prospective member don't get in over their heads. Speaking of which, the tall half-elf finds himself in the company of a particularly quiet traveling companion as the pair makes their way to the remote eastern coastline of King's Valley.

Something about them seems…off. He can’t put his finger on it. Maybe it’s because of how quiet their steps are, or how few words they are willing to let leave their lips. Either way, what this individual wants with the Knights of Duros is a question that he isn’t sure he should ask, given the individual has only spoken enough words to accept the task and give their name.

Silence is not a companion Everett tends to enjoy though, so he eventually breaks the awkwardness hanging in the air and speaks. 

"So, where did you say you're from again?"

Great start. He's not sure they even mentioned it before, but he's at a loss as to what questions wouldn't offend the less-than-friendly traveler. 

---

SPOILER: Click to show

Quest Name: When is a Monster Not a Monster?
Post Requirements: 7 Post, 200 words per post
Reward: +1 Renown and Initiation into the Knights of Duros (Unlocks Squire Subclass)
Description: After receiving your quest and emblem, you must find a way to serve Charon's community and its people. This can be done by going out and completing an honorable service to Charon as a whole. This can be done by saving a community from a threat or assisting a group in dire need. It can't be something minor or trivial though, and before your symbol can activate, you must perform a massively heroic deed. How this occurs is entirely up to you.

The Knights of Duros: many have sung their praises. They stand proud in service to the crown; records unblemished, their lists of sins surely hidden by the power which they serve; they have never shied from bending their knee to the royals. They are mercenaries with a particularly shiny badge; mercenaries approved by the Capitol, themselves; and therefore, higher than the rest through their associations.

"To maintain a well-trained and mobile force that can be used to accomplish any manner of quests presented by the crown, and at its whim."

They are, in short, the crown's loyal hounds; and when the Knights of Duros opened up their doors for newcomers to join their ranks, Caedes had to admit he was not enthused and entirely uninterested. He had never been taught to view the crown with respect; and to those who sat at their feet he had less.

... and yet, here he is, masquerading as one of them.

Protecting the family that Zarius left behind shouldn’t have been such a complicated ask; but how can he look them in the eyes knowing that it was he who returned and not their son? How does he accept any kindness from them when he doesn’t deserve it?

He's stretched himself thin for too long; he stepped over lines in the sand which he had once drawn for himself in efforts to hide his death; and went so far as to become him when asked. He ran missions on their behalf; attempted to upkeep relationships where he could; and feverishly tracked leads on Cyran’s disappearance in hopes of giving the family what he still hasn’t had in the wake of his own family’s murder: closure.

After hitting dead end after devastating dead end, he returned to Darkveil to assist Eameia with a favour requested by one of their assets; it was after that near-disaster in the Zeinav Desert with Eameia and Shael that he came to reluctant terms that leverage with the Crown might be good - might even be necessary - to survive a Darkveil stormed by Black Legionnaires and Stablemen in the aftermath of Vulcadreus. Having a shiny badge to flash around would have given their infiltration an easier bit of leverage; but having a shiny badge to present to the Black Legionnaires and the Stablemen has more value in the long run.

If he can do nothing else, he can do this.

There seems no end to their investigations and arrests as the Legion combs through every dead tree in the Ash Lands; to stay one step ahead and have something to fall back on in an emergency could be vital: so, against all of his pride and despite the risk of being outed as an imposter, here he is.

The hesitant voice of his traveling companion washes the haze from behind his eyes; and the lithe elven man with faun-skin and dark brunette locks twisted into a braid around his left shoulder blinks. He tosses a glance from beneath the shade of his upturned cloak at him, searching his face with an unspoken look of exasperation.

Silas was all polite smiles in the company of the Knights of Duros; he never said more than he was asked, which is - frankly - how he would prefer it to be. For now, the Knights didn’t appear to care about the intricacies of his desire to join them; but he’s certain it’ll be in a next step along the lines of their complicated strings of tests as they weed out their initial prospective hopefuls.

They’ll likely listen to him after he’s gone through their charade of pomp and circumstance to prove that he can maintain their high reputation. His traveling companion, however, is a different story; he is not standoffish in his silence, but he does seem uncertain about even the question he’s asking, as if Silas might bite at him should he ask the wrong one.

He supposes he can’t blame him, because his silence has been cold and uninterested since they left the company of the Knights. “I do not believe I did,” he answers with an audible sigh while he turns away. He steps up onto a fallen log dropped across their path; it seems to have long been rotting here, knocked over by the earthquakes some time ago. Silas turns to look at his travelling companion again, a reluctant acceptance falling across his shaded expression. “… I am not sure if I even introduced myself, actually. Silas.”

He offers a subtle dip of his head before he turns and hops onto the other side; and then pauses a heartbeat to wait for him. "I came from a small town in the Moonglade called Daisy; if you've not heard of it, I would not be surprised." With a tilt of his head, he adds, "And you are from, where?"

---

^{Passive: Alter Self, Sound Throwing}

Ahhhhh.

Small talk probably isn’t going to go over well with this guy in the long run. He’s being polite, sure, but the exasperated look and audible sigh more than give away that he’d rather not. But then the quiet elven man does end up answering him which gives him some hope that they might get along well enough to at least complete this test on amicable terms.

“Silas,” Everett repeats in an early attempt on his part to commit the name to memory. Gods know how many he’s forgotten. “My name’s Everett.”

Half a laugh leaves his lungs as he steps over the fallen tree to join the more lithe elf on the other side. He'd rather not risk the rotten log breaking underfoot and faceplanting right in front Silas. “To be honest, I’m not the best with town names.”

Or any names for that matter, but he’d leave that part out. He has gotten a little better at getting around Charon as a whole, but with the stars being so unreliable these days, he has gotten himself turned around a fair few times. He's fortunate that each time he has gotten lost, some charitable soul has directed him back toward civilization. Who knows where he would have ended up otherwise. 

Then Silas asks him where he is from. 

“Uh…that’s a bit of a complicated question.” He rubs the back of his neck.

The problem with small talk is that of course any question you ask will be returned to you if the person you're talking to isn't completely self-absorbed and an egomaniac. Silas doesn't give off the same energy as Nieven, so he shouldn't be surprised when the elf inquires about where he's from after providing an answer himself. 

While he's certain the man isn't that interested in learning more about him and would likely rather just get this mission over and done with, he can't just not answer him. There's always a chance Silas would report back to the Knights of anything off about the mission, including if his fellow aspiring recruit were to act shady or dodgy with basic information. 

It's just the truth isn't that satisfying either. 

Everett sighs and rests his hand on the hilt of his rapier. He has no intention of drawing it, and it's more just for the sake of holding onto something to ground himself. 

“I lost a good chunk of my memories in some accident," he admits, looking ahead as they continue to walk along the edge of the treeline where the forest gives away to the scraggly coastal grasses growing out of the sandy soil. "I haven’t found anyone who knows anything about me or my past yet. Joining the Knights of Duros at least will give me some direction and purpose.”

At least, that's what he hopes. 

He nods, “Everett,” he repeats likewise; as he raises his head, he watches Everett step over the debris in their path and quietly waits. He studies the half-elf in that brief span of time - taking in what equipment is visible on his person, his build, and the lilt of his voice while he speaks. His laughter feels sheepish, or maybe apologetic when paired with the admission that follows.

“There’s many towns all throughout Charon,” he answers, turning to continue only once Everett has passed by, “I don’t believe anyone would expect you to know every town’s name that you have or haven’t passed.” Silas shrugs, eyes tilting to the side when he adds, “Besides, you would not find Daisy on any map or route these days.”

Claiming his persona hails from Daisy may be tasteless in hindsight of what happened, but it has many benefits: a fact-check on Daisy will be hard to accomplish; town-records were destroyed in the disappearance; and the pool of individuals who could disprove his lies is very small. There’s a motive and drive to be found in tragedy - and he’s almost certain the Knights of Duros will eat up the backstory of a small-town nobody searching for a breadth of redemption and purpose through good deeds for the crown.

In the strangest way, too, perhaps it keeps the name alive.

“Is it?” Silas asks, cocking a brow at Everett’s back while he follows just behind the taller half-elf; but after pressing him once, he allows Everett to continue at his own pace to answer the question. His voice is still monotone, but pitches just slightly into quizzical; he has been cold and indifferent for much of this time - that much is true - but making friends within the Knights of Duros - even another initiate - could be just as crucial as it could be detrimental to his intentions.

Fellow initiates could turn out to be an important source of information; an important commendation; or an important voice to have vouch for his character if necessary. Granted, they could just as easily run him under the wheels of a wagon should he play his cards wrong or make the wrong kind of companions.

…

This kind of methodology is still new to him; he has to admit that he’s learned much about playing the long-con from observing Zarius work. His family’s skillset, as he was taught, has always been best used in temporary, short-term scenarios; the Shadow Crawlers thrived in the temporary and liminal. To emulate another living being was a complicated process - one that required study, research, and dedication to copy their behaviours, relationships, and quirks - time that they oft didn’t have to spare due to the complicated facets that come with each and every life.

The quick mimicry of a changeling had always been best used for surprise, deception, and incrimination. The delicate balance in the maintenance of relationships, responsibilities, and the connections that come with running such a long-term intention are… well, they’re new.

Silas breathes in slowly while he listens. His gaze focuses on the hilt of Everett’s rapier, narrowing slightly when the half-elf rests his hand upon it; but his skepticism softens when he shows no signs of drawing the weapon.

“I see how that could make things complicated.” Silas responds in a sigh. He rubs at the back of his neck, fingers brushing over the cord of the pendant around his neck. “My condolences. I’ve heard of such things before.” Honestly, it’s hard to say if Everett is telling the truth: his tone suggests he’s got nothing to hide. “I hope that you’re able to find the answers you’re looking for; although, I suppose we'll need to get through the generoustrials that the knights have put in front of us first.” He really hopes the lilt in his voice doesn't suggest the statement as an insult. "I suppose the many trials should not be surprising given the Knights of Duros have always served the crown." He taps the emblem that he's pinned to one side of his cloak; supposedly, it would activate should they prove themselves worthy of it.

“Hm,” he ponders the statement about a village that couldn’t be found on any map. “That does make it a bit more challenging.”

Silas watches Everett a lot more closely than Everett watches Silas. That isn’t to say that Everett hasn’t been paying attention, he just hasn’t been driving himself mad trying to figure out some hidden meaning behind every little glance or angonizingly awkward stint of silence that hangs between the two men.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a problem sometimes,” he says with a laugh.

His situation is no laughing manner, but what else is he supposed to do? Wallow in misery and self pity? Some might take that route, but he has been lucky so far to have the generosity and support of complete strangers to pick him up out of the mud - quite literally in some instances. It would be a disservice to them and their actions for him to let himself waste away after all they’ve done for him. At the very least he needs to keep going, and maybe one day he’ll actually be able to repay their kindness and pass it forward to others in their time of need.

“The hoops are a bit tedious to jump through, aren’t they?” Everett jests good naturedly.

He knows there are plenty of people who lament having to navigate checks and balances. But even if they can be time consuming, they’re important to make sure no riff raff gain authority and rank they have not properly earned. At least, that’s how it should work. He’s not so naive to know reality is a lot more complicated than that.

“Well, from my understanding this whole recruitment drive is pretty uncommon for the Knight Orders. Clearly there is a dire need for more hands to serve and protect.”

It wouldn’t be the first time. Certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“The Crown seems to be in a bit of a precarious position what with these nonsense lies and rumors being spread about by crazy cultists and criminals.”

He glances at Silas with a curious look. 

“What do you make of it all?”

Perhaps he had some insights on things that the half-elf does not. After all, he only has memories of this past year and not of anything that came before. There’s no doubt context that he’s missing, and maybe his companion can help provide such information now that he’s feeling a bit more chatty.

“I can only imagine.” Silas answers; he furrows his brows while he reaches out to brush his fingers over the tall grass that lines the King’s Valley. “The hoops have certainly been set high for all those interested in the calling; I doubt we’ll see half as many initiates when we return, though.”

Such high expectations do make sense; the Ashen Fathers have just as many checks and balances to seek out the powerful, the trustworthy, and the reliable amongst all of the poor souls who fall into a shadier side of the life. The Knights of Duros seek those of the same on a different spectrum - those who are willing to serve the Crown faithfully for the good of their monarchy and kingdom.

Given the Knights of Duros have been largely absent from most of the tragedies their kingdom has experienced, to an outsider, it feels like they are playing clean-up to the Crown’s negligence all while toting about their titles and honour which they expect all who join them to have. It feels disingenuous.

He pulls his arm back into the shadows of his cloak while he glances sidelong at Everett; he lingers on Everett’s curious expression with a frown that quirks at the corners of his lips.

Nonsense lies and rumours.

The words settle heavy in his ribcage; oh, how he agonizes being unable to tear the crown apart.

“Mm…” Silas closes his eyes when he sighs, “I was part of a clean-up crew in Darkveil not long after the disaster there. I heard people describe the mountain as an angry god, a great dragon, and a blazing phoenix; and all of them were equally terrible.” He takes a breath as he lifts his head and rolls his shoulders back; burns hidden beneath his disguise itch at the thought of Vulcadreus. “Regardless of where the rumours started or who they came from, whether it was a dragon or a phoenix, something summoned or a natural disaster, the damage that’s been caused in Darkveil is real regardless.” He glances at Everett, cloak shifting when he crosses his arms beneath it. “I can’t say I blame the people for trying to make sense of it the best that they can. It seems like they're scared and looking for answers.”

Everett glances back at Silas at the mention of Darkveil specifically. It's not suspicious that the other man would bring up the situation there given just how fresh the disaster of Mount Drakolt still is in everyone's mind. Even people not from the Ash Lands have heard a thing or two about what happened, though he wasn't there to witness it himself. He's only seen the aftermath. 

It's hard to determine what information is accurate and what is just an exaggeration. But seeing the crater sure is convincing that something crazy did indeed happen there. 

"I can't say I know what Darkveil was like before the incident besides what I've heard from others, but I have seen it for myself since. Seems that place is nothing but bad luck."

He wouldn't go so far as to say that the people who call the city home deserved what they got - something he's heard from some other sailors with poor opinions of the Ash Land denizens. Even if there were horrible people in Darkveil, that didn't damn the whole population to tragedy. 

"It's good that you went to help with the clean-up effort, though. I can't imagine it was an easy job what with all the destruction and scavengers picking through the rubble." 

No doubt Silas must have seen plenty of awful things while trying to help people. Maybe that's why the man is so quiet and antisocial. Witnessing such horrors can really get to you over time. 

"I agree, the unknown is hard to contend with, so whatever people tell themselves to get through the day - even if it's a lie - is necessary to some extent. I feel for those who were just victims of the whole situation, it's even more a shame that there are those taking advantage of their vulnerability." 

As the two continue to make their way to the coastline, the trees start to thin and the wind coming off the ocean picks up. The land gives away to the ocean in steep rocky cliffs with all sorts of hidden coves and tidal caves. No wonder the pirates hadn't been caught yet, there were a hundred and one places they could be holed up in.

Luckily for the pair, Everett has some experience sailing himself, so he's quick to rule out some of the caves based on the depth of the water and width of any channels that a ship could reasonably move through without rupturing its hull. These pirates had to be hiding their ships, otherwise they would have seen the vessels easily from the clifftops. That means they must be in a cove that is hidden from sight but at the very least accessible to ships during high tide.

They walk for a while longer before Everett pauses and squints at some sea stacks marking a particularly rocky part of the shore. It looks like a nightmare for any ship to approach with all the jagged rocks poking up between the rough waves breaking against the stone. 

"We should scout that area," he points it out to Silas. "You can see that the tide gets particularly high here based on the waterline on the rocks. If I was trying to hide a few ships from being found, I'd put it somewhere that looks too dangerous to approach in the first place." 

Silas shakes his head, lashes lowering; his expression softens into something melancholy against his wishes. “Mm.” He hums in half-hearted agreement.

After so many years, he’s grown numb to the villainization of Darkveil and its people. It’s true that a great deal of them survive through means seen as immoral - but even so, hearing it twists something in his chest.

A shaky breath escapes him while he clutches that feeling and twists it into the distress of his persona, “I never wanted to see destruction on that level again.” He admits before taking a deep breath to level his voice, “It was not as eerie as a ghost town, but…” Silas looks ahead of them and purses his lips in a straight line, “…I do not know. I cannot say I would wish such a disaster on anyone. I heard some were displaced and took refuge in Dragon’s Cradle.”

He looks out towards the horizon while Everett speaks, but keeps the half-elf in his peripheral vision. It’s difficult to say exactly where Everett stands in terms with the crown based on their conversation thus far; memories be damned, he does seem to have at least a shred of respect or loyalty to the monarchy.

Expected, given where he is.

“The vulnerable are all the more reason to pass this test.”

As the trees begin to thin out and Silas begins to taste the salt on the wind, it becomes clear that they are arriving closer to their ultimate destination. To Silas’ surprise, Everett proceeds to take the lead when it comes to ruling out potential hideouts; he agrees with Everett’s theory that the pirates must be hiding their ships within the caves and tidal pools scattered throughout the steep cliffside, and follows while he judges the coves.

The height of one is too short and the channel too narrow of another; the elven man listens with a mildly attentive tilt of his head, hoping to pick up some of Everett’s methodology in the meantime to add to his growing breadth of knowledge on tracking in less urban environments.

“M’hm.” Silas hums, studying the waterline in a crouch just off to the side of Everett; after the half-elf has said his piece, he pushes his palms into his knees and pushes himself up to his boots. He rests his hands on his hips while he glances into the shadows, “No one in their right mind would bring their ship close to here and the cliff is far too steep for travelers to get here on accident.”

With that, Silas leads the way into the sea-side cavern when he finds a location between two jagged rocks just large enough for the two initiates to pass through one-by-one. Everett might notice that the elven man is particularly difficult to follow; and as the light begins to fade, so too does Silas.

As Everett may have predicted, once the yawning fangs of the initial entrance have been passed, the cave inside begins to open up. A wide channel befitting of any pirate’s ship stretches into a crescent tidal pool which is currently rather shallow, but which rises to match the waterlines outside, leaving only the highest ledges which line the wall dry. The stone they walk upon is slick and spattered with sea-grasses and crushed shells, suggesting that when the tide rolls through there is simply no footpath into the cave.

Ideal if one did not need to walk into it to begin with.

The ledges begin shallow but rise in height to reach towards a ceiling that seems so much larger on the inside than the jagged entrance on the out would suggest; seaweed drapes over rounded edges smoothed out by the tide; and at some point, Silas has to climb to reach any of the ledges that stack past the waterline. It's clear that this location isn't meant to be traveled on foot.

He makes a point to offer a hand to Everett when he does and help the half-elf up should he need it.

It becomes clear that they are alone here; but that the cave is or has been occupied when they reach a ledge a few feet above the waterline. There are no rarities scattered about, but dry boxes sit open with their packaged-safety contents spilled out; pieces of scrap metal leans diagonally against the wall, thin and perfect for prying open cargo; and a fire pit sits closer to the wall, where a couple of bedrolls have been tied up and stored; among other small intricacies that would detail someone or someones have been living in this space and couldn't be assed to clean up.

Silas crouches down in front of the fire pit and reaches his open palm over it; a subtle heat blooms across his skin. “Fire’s still warm,” he remarks. “They must have been here this morning; at least five of them, from the bedrolls laid out. Possible sixth, if they have anyone keeping watch during the nights.” ⁽¹⁾

---

^{1. Investigation Kit}

Everett nods. “Hearthside. I helped build some of the homes there and defended it from a Storm Raiders attack with a member of the Fighter's Guild.”

Recalling the incident with Ak’ka brings a bit of a smile to his face. He wonders how she is doing since he last fought alongside the intimidating grem woman. She probably was out there bashing in some skulls or hunting down a monster to duel. He can't help but chuckle at the thought.

He can't wait to be able to show her that he managed to secure a position with the Knights of Duros. It's just one step towards being able to secure his own ship to captain. And then he'll be able to invite the woman aboard, as promised.

Perhaps he should reconnect with Nieven as well. The man had mentioned wanting to be a captain one day as well. Though he also said he wanted to be a pirate captain specifically which Everett can't say he encourages. Maybe he can convince the man to walk a more law-abiding path if they work together more.

He's not sure how Lady Lachesis would take news of him acquiring a ship. Come to think of it, what would she say about him joining the Knights of Duros? Would she approve? There's no reason she wouldn't, right? He tries not to dwell on that twin of thought for too long and instead focuses back on the idea of having his own ship one day.

Of course one of the first things he'd do is visit Cypress. The last time he saw here was back in the Marsh Flats. Didn't she say she lived at an orphanage in Darkveil? Or at least she did before the destruction of Mount Drakolt. She didn't mention anything about the building or her guardians when he last spoke to her, so he assumes they were spared the worst of the incident. Still, if it turns out she was displaced too and just staying with her spunky armored friend, then maybe he should see if there's anything he can do to help.

Silas mentioned doing clean up work after the disaster, maybe the elf knew of the current state of the establishment.

“Someone I know lives in an orphanage in Darkveil. You wouldn't have happened to know if it is still standing, would you?”

He doesn't fully expect Silas to know, but it was worth asking.

As they continue to scout the area, Everett is equally surprised when Silas assumes the lead. He's even more surprised when it becomes difficult to keep up with the man. It isn't that he can't handle maneuvering around the terrain, he's been on plenty of slippery ship decks to know how to place his feet, but the elf keeps disappearing from view every time a shadow is cast across him. It's bizarre to witness and Everett almost wonders if he's hallucinating the first few times it happens.

When Silas offers his hand, he takes it while also stepping up on the air like a staircase to make getting up even easier. He actually boosts himself up past Silas and then returns the favor by hauling the man up to the next rocky landing where they discover the makeshift camp.^[1] Though he may not be as stealthy or agile as Silas, mobility in the air is one thing he has in spades.

Taking a look around, Everett is a bit surprised. “I would have thought they would have a more extensive set up. The information we were given suggested they were a significant threat so I assumed we were dealing with a larger group.”

Then again, maybe they were just being careful about holding up somewhere more permanently. They can easily keep a decent sized crew tucked away on a large enough ship and only have a few members on shore to do whatever it is they're doing with the supplies left strewn about.

He glances down at where the water is currently and where the high tide line is on the rocks.

“If they come back at all, they won't be back here until high tide. Give or take five or six hours from now. Judging from the depth of the water and the size of this cavern, they could have half a dozen schooners, two or three brigs, or a single galleon in here at one time.”

He steps around the edge of the ledge and ends up finding a few coils of thick rope tucked away behind a stalagmite.

“There are some mooring lines here. If they are tying off in here then there's not enough rope here for more than one or two ships.”

Were the Knights of Duros really so worried about just a couple of boats? He was anticipating something more along the scale of the piracy syndicate up in Thorock. This seems much more small time than he expected. Then again, this is just a test. If they couldn't pull off a mission like this then they certainly do not have what it takes to effectively serve the crown.

“Should we keep looking, or do you want to try staking out this location?”

---

[1] Step of the Wind

An orphanage?

Silas paused, his expression neutral while he gazed at the waterline Everett had pointed out earlier. Only one orphanage came to mind, but what are the odds that it’s the same one…? Yet, the thought of it lodges in his throat uncomfortably. After a moment of looking unblinkingly at the jagged stones, Silas shook his head before answering, his voice quiet and melancholy:

“I really don’t know. There are a lot of orphanages in Darkveil; some that were closer to Mt. Drakolt or the tremors were leveled, but there were others that were still standing. Sorry. You might have better luck finding out about your friend in Darkveil itself, or maybe from a Darkveil local. The city isn’t in the best state, but have you considered visiting?”

---

Later, standing at the upper ledges of the cave Silas crosses his arms; he looks to Everett with a frown. “We may still be working with a large group,” he says, shoulders slouching when he sighs, “They’re not exactly leaving much behind for me to work off of, and there’s no telling how many of them are staying on the boat without leaving evidence on land.”

He glances sidelong at the rock’s edge, tilting his shoulders back to rest against the jagged, damp walls of the cave. Admittedly, it’s uncomfortable; but its easy to scan the available area from here and probably looks cool. “A good criminal never makes a permanent home; they left what wouldn’t kill them to lose if they decided to never return, couldn’t, or needed to leave quickly.” He breathes a sigh, watching his half-elven initiate lean over enough to see the line of the tide down below.

“Ah... yeah.” He agrees, although he is really only familiar with what a brig and a galleon are; what the hell is a schooner? Ugh. He closes his eyes and lifts a hand to massage the tense muscles in the back of his neck; this character might still need more work than he thought in order to pull it off successfully in the long-run. 

It’s still a new face, still a new personality: and oft, he needs to adjust on the run.

He can’t pretend to be an expert at this in particular, though; Everett seems to be pretty familiar with sailing; so he’s going to need to work with him to get this done properly. “Sorry, most of my contracts involve both my feet on the ground.” He remarks with a sigh; he pushes himself off the wall and heads to the spot Everett is investigating the coils of rope, “I’m a lot better with this theorizing, usually, but the boats and the ocean…” He gazes out towards the open water. “…kind of add a new element to consider. I don’t really have sea legs.” Silas’ expression is disgruntled to admit it, at the very least. “How many people could any of those ships reasonably hold, do you think?”

Silas would wait for Everett’s response before pacing around the ledge; a rock dislodges beneath his boot and tumbles down into the water below with a plop. 

“Mm...” he hums, tilting his head upwards to stare at the ceiling while he considers the options. He tips his head down before he turns on a heel towards Everett, “Maybe we can look a little farther. There’s a pretty large variety of caves and caverns in this area. If we’re dealing with a fleet, do you think they could be spreading out to avoid putting every one of their ships in danger should someone like us come along to try and put an end to the piracy? If just one of the pirates in these caves throws up a warning, the rest could just flee without conflict.”

"Oh."

The news that Darkveil has many orphanages is...sad, though not surprising. Of course criminals wouldn't be reliable or responsible enough to take care of children properly. It's a bitter thought, but he has no other context to draw such a conclusion from. At the very least there are some good samaritans who are trying to provide these poorly children with a living. The way Cypress talked about her caretakers showed that they were genuinely good people surviving in a den of thieves. 

"I have considered visiting, it's just been difficult. I don't actually know the name of the orphanage, I just know that a..." he tries to recall the name Cypress had mentioned, "Cyran? Runs it. The young miss spoke quite fondly of him." 

---

"That's true. We really don't know how many we're dealing with."

Silas' logic sounds solid enough. The man sure does know what he's talking about and seems to have good insights into the criminal mind. That shouldn't come as a surprise given he was stationed in Darkveil for some time. No doubt he saw plenty of the criminal underbelly while working there. 

"Oh, no need to apologize, everyone has their strengths. Admittedly sailing is about all that I remember how to do well. It's like an instinct for me," he says with a laugh.

He considers Silas' question about how many pirates they could be dealing with. He can't say for certain without seeing their vessels himself, but with the intel they were provided by the Knight Order it would be expected that the force is fully capable of causing trouble for even well-armed merchant vessels. 

"Well, it varies. Very small crews can sail a ship well enough in a pinch, but we should be prepared for the ships to be fully manned. Could be anywhere from a handful of folks to fifty per vessel." 

His attention turns to the sound of stone clattering down to the shallow tide pools below them. It would still be a few hours yet before the tide really started to come back in. Lingering here isn't the most productive use of that time considering the pirates may not even end up returning to this part of the shoreline. 

"That's all possible. Spreading themselves out would be a good strategy just to make sure they do not get bottlenecked in somewhere. We can keep searching for more coves and double back to this one when the tide rises if we don't find anything else." 

This day was going to prove to be a long one.