Finally, after two dozen soldiers stood before her, the last pulled himself up onto the deck. The men who came before him tensed in subjection.

     The man, clad in gleaming armor and a deep navy tunic looked at Qilo and gave her the smallest of bows, making the feathers of his plume sway gently. She did the same as he spoke and at first, thought it to be another language but quickly recognized the common tongue beneath his thick accent. Even as well-traveled as she was, she had to strain to understand each word.

      “I would like to speak with the captain,” he said after his brief greeting. He looked between Wyll and Jaromir as if trying to decide which held the position.

     “I am the captain,” Qilo said, trying to keep her voice free of contempt.

      The man’s eyes narrowed to slits. Then a wide smile spread across his face. Qilo thought the man had found it funny that she was captain until he bowed again this time so low the feathers of his plume fell forward and nearly brushed the deck.

     “A woman in command must surely be a woman to be feared.” He said his smile never wavering. “I am glad I brought so many of my men with me.”

      “Well then, welcome to The Viragosa,” she said smiling in return.

Mood board.

Mood board.

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