The heavy wooden ship creaked through the water, emitting a groan that echoed throughout the ocean. Glowing green and yellow eyes peered out from behind seaweed and rocks as the craft passed above, blocking out the moonlight and casting the sea floor in shadow.

More ships passed, following the larger ship as it made its way through the Gezaquin Ocean. Giant red and orange explosions erupted as the ships were blasted with canon fire, and the flames silhouetted the outlines of boats against the night sky. But the tumult was obscured by the rippling water, and only appeared as yellow blotches and muffled sounds to those below the ocean's surface.

A few adventurous sea creatures drew closer to the enormous underbelly of the first ship. Fins waving curiously, one reached out a pale blue hand to stroke the sanded wood.

A creature of the same species, hiding behind a barnacle-encrusted rock, cried out to the one touching the ship with a piercing shriek. Baring its fangs and hissing a response, the first creature touched the boat one last time before swimming down and returning to the safety of the sea floor, just as another explosion rocked the ship that the creature had been so intent on investigating.

The peace of the cool, clear water was suddenly disrupted with the splintering of wood and bodies splashing into the water. Red inked the surface, and from the depths of the ocean, creatures of the hunt appeared—Thelrigs, Kalmoraeths, and Flendrups. Tentacles dragged some struggling survivors underwater, while those already dead were engulfed by large fish with seemingly endless rows of sharp, pointed teeth. Smaller fish who had approached to eat the leftovers—a finger here, part of an ear there—were paralyzed and ensnared in the claws of a Flendrup to be digested alive over the course of a few days.

The creatures who had been watching the entire proceedings finally decided to leave, and with hardly a rustling of seaweed, they disappeared into the dark ocean, lizard-like tails waving and webbed feet propelling them through the water.

At the surface, the inhabitants of the larger ship were forced to surrender as the smaller, faster, and more numerous boats around them sent a sinking blast into the hull of the ship. In a matter of moments, the entire crew would either drown or be taken captive by their opponents.

In the cabin of the ship, two officers stepped through the doorway and bowed before their leader.

"Captain, the crew is prepared to fight until the end, if that is your command," the officer on the right said.

"No, that is suicide," was the reply. "Tell the crew to prepare for surrender, Merhon. The Guard is too powerful for any negotiations to be made, and it is not likely that they will show us any mercy."

"We are ready for the worst, sir," Merhon said, and exited the cabin with a flourish of his blue cape.

The captain turned to the remaining officer on his left.

"Syar, I need you to do me a favor," the captain admitted, and the officer stepped forward. Syar was a dangro: human-like, but with six toes on each foot, and slightly longer fingers with an extra joint. He was middle aged, with a medium build, and despite his anxiety and short stature—only five feet tall—he was quite brave at times. His uniform, blue like Merhon's, was more worn, with a missing button and a tear in the elbow.

"Anything, Captain Tavion," Syar replied, wrinkling his long eyebrows together worriedly.

Captain Jason Tavion took a step forward towards Syar, and the candlelight from the table in the cabin illuminated his features. The captain was in his early twenties, and quite imposing with his tall stature and dark hair. An energetic gleam is his eyes matched his thirst for adventure, yet there was no greed for wealth or fame apparent in his features.

The captain took a letter sealed with the signature of the Tavion Trading Company from his pocket and handed it to Syar.

"Syar, do you know what this is?" Captain Tavion asked in a low voice.

"A letter of some great importance?" Syar guessed.

"These are the plans of the Guard for the total domination of the planet. Without these, we would have no chance of stopping the monopolization of trade and the annihilation of all civilizations other than those in alliance with the Guard. If placed in the right hands, these plans could stop the extinction of thousands of races."

"And you're…giving them to me?" Syar's anxiety had taken hold. A light sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and he eyed the letter nervously.

"I want you to escape from the Guard—somehow—and once you reach land, find a person named Thorin Silvret. He's a traveler though—the last time I saw him, he was somewhere in the Amra Forest—so you might have to search a while before you find him. Anyway, once you do find him, give him these plans. We can trust him, and he'll be able to help us."

"So the entire existence of happiness and safety of the inhabitants of this planet depends on these plans?" Syar asked.

Captain Tavion grinned and patted his friend on the back. "Try not to lose them, okay?" he said lightheartedly.

Just then, the ship gave a dangerous lurch sideways, and Syar and Jason were knocked to the floor.

The captain jumped to his feet and glanced out the window into the dark night.

"We're out of time," Jason said, rushing to get his long coat from his chair at the table.

"Wh-what's happening?" Syar asked fearfully. He scrambled to his feet and carefully tucked the plans in his pocket.

"The Guard has boarded the ship," Jason replied, grabbing his pistol and sword off of the table. "You'd best be on your way if you want to have any chance of escaping and getting those plans to Thorin."

"But I have no idea how I'm going to—"

"Take Kabaqa with you."

"But Kabaqa's—"

"Just go! We're out of time!"

"Captain?" Syar asked. His panicky tone was gone, replaced by concern. Jason, with his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, turned around. "What will happen to you?"

The captain gave a small smile. "Don't worry about me, Syar," he said. "Don't I always manage to get out of the worst possible scenarios?"

Before Syar could utter another word, Jason had swept through the door and closed it firmly behind him.

"Hello, gentlemen," Syar heard him say. "What a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"Well, if it isn't Captain Tavion," a different voice, most likely a general from the Guard, said. "Take his weapons and lock him up. I'm sure the commodore would like to have a talk with him."

In the cabin, with his ear pressed up against the door, Syar's eyes widened. The commodore was a cruel, heartless man. If he found out that the captain had been smuggling the Guard's plans, the punishment would be unbearable.

There was some scuffling of feet and clanking of chains as Captain Tavion was disarmed and arrested.

"So I'm to meet the commodore, am I?" the captain asked without a hint of worry in his voice. He actually sounded curious.

"Yes, and I'm sure he'd enjoy hearing your pathetic excuse for attempting to slip through our blockade to trade with the town of Oslajo," the general said.

"Oh, I wasn't going to trade, I was—"

"How very interesting," the general said sarcastically. "I'm sure that's the reason for all of the silk and rice in your cargo. You two—" the general paused, and Syar guessed that he was pointing at two soldiers "take Captain Tavion on board the command ship. Everyone else, find the rest of the crew and put them in a brig on one of the smaller vessels."

Immediately, Syar scurried away from the door towards the back of the cabin. Opening a trapdoor by one of the cabinets, Syar lowered himself into the darkness and closed the trapdoor behind him. Water splashed around his ankles, warning him of the ship's approaching demise at the bottom of the ocean, and Syar looked around desperately to find something that would keep the Guard's plans dry. He was in the ship's galley, and with the only light being the moonlight streaming through a small window in the opposite wall, Syar finally found a pile of selkie skins.

After wrapping the plans in the skins, Syar sloshed his way over to another door and threw it open. It led to the sailor's quarters, where hammocks strung between beams swung slowly back and forth in the dim light.

"Kabaqa?" Syar called hesitantly.

A door burst open, and lanterns illuminated the area as soldiers from the Guard's armada streamed down the stairs form the main deck.

"Do you see anyone?" one of the soldiers asked. He shined the light from his lantern across the rows of hammocks, and Syar hid behind a wooden beam to avoid the light.

"Well, if anyone is down here, they're either going to surrender or drown," another soldier said. "Come on, let's check the cabin and the galley."

Syar held his breath as four soldiers passed him to explore the galley, while three others went back up on the deck to search the cabin.

"This ship sure is sinking fast," one soldier commented from the galley.

Thankful that he had not been caught, Syar exhaled slowly before looking for an escape route. He then became aware of two small, beady eyes staring at him from one of the hammocks.

Syar's breath caught in surprise, before he realized who the eyes belonged to.

"Kabaqa?" Syar whispered.

"Mrawk?" the eyes said, and a fuzzy face appeared over the edge of the hammock.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" a soldier called, emerging from the galley.

Kabaqa and Syar remained deathly silent.

"Probably just a creaky beam," another soldier said. "Let's go, there's no one down here."

As soon as they left, Syar turned to Kabaqa.

"Now what?" the officer asked. The monkey cocked his head.

"Mree?" he trilled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Syar asked.

Kabaqa jumped up and scurried over to a gaping hole in the floor, where water bubbled up and spread over the floor.

"It's not like we can patch it up," Syar said.

"Mrah? Kee," Kabaqa said.

"I don't speak monkey-speak," Syar said. "Now, Captain Tavion said you would help me find a way to escape, and although you're a monkey, I'm following his orders, so if you would kindly show me a way out…"

"Rekee, rekee!" Kabaqa trilled, and pushed Syar into the hole.

"Hey! This is entirely unnecessary!" Syar said, spluttering to the surface and shivering from the cold water. "There are Kalmoraeths and other things that could eat us! Can't we just get a lifeboat or—"

"Tree!" Kabaqa shrieked, and jumped into the water. The monkey began to sink to the bottom of the ship.

"I'm not so sure that this is a good idea," Syar sighed, but took a deep breath and followed the primate. The officer grabbed the monkey before swimming out of the wreckage. Once they reached the surface, Syar looked around.

"Now what?" Syar asked irritably. Kabaqa chattered something incomprehensible.

"You're the one who had this great idea," Syar grumbled, but grabbed onto a piece of driftwood. The monkey followed suit.

"Now, I think land is that way," Syar said, and started kicking the piece of wood towards the direction he had pointed, being careful to stay out of the way of the Guard ships that were floating nearby. "If we die, this is all your fault," Syar grumbled as an afterthought.

"Commodore, we have captured an unauthorized trade ship that was trying to breach the blockade of Oslajo," a general reported. The general and commodore were on board the Guard command ship, the Todesstern, in the captain's cabin. The commodore stood off to the side of the room, mulling over charts that were spread out on a small table. A map of the Oslajo region was tacked to the wall, and a telescope and compass sat next to a small globe near the large windows in the back of the room. The general, a thin, serious man, stood by the door of the cabin, ready to leave at a moment's notice.

"Continue" the commodore said.

"It was the Tavion Trading Company, sir," the general replied. "The ship was captained by none other than Jason Tavion himself. He was trying to get silks and rice into the town. It's pure foolishness for anyone to try to run the blockade. Really, it makes you wonder what he was thinking. Even if his company had allied with the Guard, he wouldn't have been allowed to pass—"

"Yes, I know. You may leave now," the commodore said.

"As you wish, Commodore Pallon." The general bowed and left the room.

Commodore Pallon turned to look out the window of his cabin as the sun rose above the horizon. Despite the earliness of the day, he was already dressed, outfitted in a white ruffled shirt, red vest, black coat, black pants, and polished black boots that went up to just below his knees. He also wore black gloves and a tri-cornered hat with the edges embroidered in gold. His dark brown hair curled around his shoulders, and the shadow of a goatee and moustache had appeared on his angular face since he had neglected to shave the previous day.

The wind blew through the open window, and Pallon suddenly turned around again.

"General!" the commodore barked. The summoned man rushed through the door.

"Yes, sir?" the general asked.

"Are you sure that there were no survivors?"

"None, sir. We searched the ship thoroughly, and even if someone had managed to stay hidden, they would have either drowned or been eaten by some sea creature. There is no way someone could have reached land."

"I wouldn't be so sure of yourself, general," Commodore Pallon replied. "Life is full of surprises. Take two ships to Oslajo and inquire as to if anyone mysteriously appeared on the beach late last night."

"Yes, commodore," the general said, and withdrew from the room.

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