Fire and Frost: a Tale of Vengance

Chapters

02 - A Heartless World
03 - Outcast Isle
05 - Letters Received and Sent
06 - It Takes a Pirate...
07 - To Catch a Pirate...
08 - Just Foreplay
09 - A Dish Best Served Cold
10 - Tying up Loose Ends
01 - A Message in Magic
04 - The Foul Depths of the World

02 - A Heartless World

“Admiral Tide!” Frostbite greeted with urgency as he burst into his office, “I request permission to load the Crown’s Judgement with a few month’s provisions and hunt down the Sacrilegious Saint to bring her Captain to justice.”

Taken off guard, if only slightly, by the sudden appearance of Frostbite. Admiral Tide adjusted his rump on the small pillow he sat on and cleared his throat.

“Denied,” Tide replied in his whispery, old voice, “But both of us know that that’s not going to stop you from doing this, Captain,” Tide sighed, “In spite of knowing that, I still urge you to put your brain before your heart, logic before emotion. That is what they still teach at the academy, isn’t it?”

“And who is to say that this is not logic?” Frostbite countered, “Powder Burn is a villainous, bullying thief who has long overstayed his welcome in life. He must be brought to justice, he must be stopped!”

“And usually his kind is,” Tide asserted, gesturing to the window, showing a view of the sea, “Pirates only ever attack when we send ships without a decent contingent of guards. They’re cowards and that’s good for us.

“But Lieutenant Overcharge deliberately went out there without a decent form of defense to bait that pirate into attacking to take him on by himself,” Tide paused for a short moment, letting the statement sink in, “I apologize for saying this, but he and Captain Prow got whatever was coming to them by ignoring logical reasoning and relying on emotion to deal with a heartless world. It was a foalish endeavor and anything around the lines of ‘pirate hunting’ is as well. When it comes to this, the best offense is a powerful defense.”

“Admiral, with all due respect we cannot simply sit around and let such a vile deed as this go unpunished!” Frostbite retorted, a flash of anger in his voice, “We can’t just—”

“Search your feelings, Captain,” Tide cut in, “And tell me: are you doing this because you really think it’s worth your valuable time? Or is it because he was your brother-in-law and you let him go through with this?”

Frostbite was suddenly quiet, deathly quiet. A slight chill began to engulf the room.

“Temper check, colt!” Tide roared with the sudden yelling quality of a drill sergeant.

Frostbite flinched, the chill quickly leaving the room as the Captain turned away, “Apologies, Admiral.”

Tide cleared his throat again, rubbing at his throat, “No fault, Captain. Happens to the best of us from time to time.”

“I am not convinced, though,” Frostbite said, the calmness the Equestrian Royal Guard was known for back in his tone, “that this is not a worthwhile endeavor. Even...even if it is vengeance, it is most certainly well earned! The Land and Sky Guards would certainly hunt down such a villain as Powder Burn if he committed such an atrocity as he has under their jurisdiction.”

“True, but in our case it’s different,” again Tide let his gaze fall to the window and seas that they showed, “The oceans are vast and deep,” Tide leaned forwards where he sat, turning back to Frostbite, “Think about this for a moment...how do you think you’ll catch this pirate? The Pride was carrying a large haul, Powder Burn has surely gone to ground and will remain there until he needs to replenish his stores.

“We’ve searched for wherever those fiends go to ground for nearly a century now with nothing to show for it but a plethora of lost vessels and souls. Unless you plan on finding wherever it is anytime soon then I suggest you drop this quest as per my request. At the very least take some time to think this over. Mourn the dead and inform their loved ones. Hear what your wife has to say, hear what his wife has to say. And if you find that then you must, then go, but not until then. Is that not too much to ask, Captain?”

Frostbite was quiet for a short moment. He opened his mouth as if to speak a few times, but promptly shut it before he said anything.

“I...suppose that is a fair proposition, Admiral,” Frostbite finally admitted.

“Thank you, Captain,” Tide thanked with a sigh, muttering as Frostbite left: “I hope those mares talk some sense into you…”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

The Crown’s Judgement was ready to sail by the time Frostbite got back, making his way down the dock and to his magnificent ship. His crew waited at their stations, prepared to cast off at a second’s notice.

“Bearing or destination, sir?” a Guard asked as Frostbite made his way up the gangplank.

Frostbite flinched, as if roused from deep thoughts, before turning his gaze to the Guard and raising his voice for all to hear.

“Belay my previous orders, get back to your normal duties,” Frostbite called out, “I have some quick errands to attend to. In the meantime, Lieutenant Broadhead is in charge until I return!”

“Aye, Captain!” all present chorused, resuming their duties.

Another unicorn Guard, Lieutenant Broadhead, approached, a faint bit of curiosity breaking the normally stone-sharp features of an Equestrian Royal Guard. The Lieutenant was slightly larger than his Captain, his telescoping spear attached to the back of his armor.

“Captain?” he inquired in a deeper and far more cultured voice, a question in both eyes and tone.

“News from the Majestic Pride,” Frostbite replied, letting his eyes flicker to the deck, “And not the good kind. Admiral Tide tasked me with informing Star Light.”

“You didn’t take it well?” Broadhead asked, more to confirm than anything else.

“Am I wrong to seek out Powder Burn?” Frostbite asked with a sigh, turning to the open end of Horseshoe bay, “Wrong to seek compensation—vengeance—for his crimes against civilization?”

Broadhead pondered on that for a moment, stony face hardly changing, hiding whatever thoughts he had within his skull.

“The...idea, in and of itself, of bringing justice to any villain is never wrong. Laws are meant to be followed and when they are broken it serves a bad example to let those who break them run free,” Broadhead finally replied, “If you are asking if I will stand by you if you choose to pursue him, then I am.”

“However,” Frostbite stated knowingly.

“However,” Broadhead continued, “It would be unwise to squander Navy resources. We don’t know where the villain is, nor do we have a decent plant of catching him. It would be far more efficient to let him come to us rather than vice versa. His kind must leech off the riches of others and if we can better guard those riches, for which we can too benefit monetarily, it would be far more efficient. Hay, deprive him of those riches long enough and he will be forced to fight if he wishes to maintain some form of control over his underlings.”

“A good point,” Frostbite noted, watching a flock of gulls pestering a dockside merchant, “I shall return soon, keep the ship afloat while I am gone, will you, Lieutenant?” Frostbite said, turning a faint smile to Broadhead.

“I shall try my best, Captain,” Broadhead replied, returning the smile with a nod.

“There’s a good colt,” Frostbite said, making his way back down to the docks and heading back towards the mass of Baltimare.

03 - Outcast Isle

The journey was arduous, it always was, and that was good. Had the trip to Outcast Isle been an easy one the navies of the world would have surely come crashing down upon it in an instant, should they find it. As it was, the few scout ships that did manage to come across the pirate haven soon found themselves at the bottom of the seas, crew devoured by sharks, drowned in the water like rats, or taken captive by the island’s inhabitants. Those of the first two categories were the lucky ones.

Random and violent, ever-shifting, winds; treacherous rocks, reefs, and shoals, invisible just beneath the murky depths; two massive, ever-whirling whirlpools, each spanning nearly a mile across; even a rumored monster or two and many more dangers lay in wait for anyone who tried to gain access to Outcast Isle.

Getting through the dangers and to the safe havens was a nightmare even for seasoned sailors. It was nothing short of impossible for anyone without the knowledge of where to go, what channel between steep, crumbling cliffs, to take and when.

But lucky for Captain Powder Burn, he was no newcomer to the treacherous waters.

“Keep her steady there, Mr. Withers!” Powder Burn called out to the pony at the helm, eyeing the frenzied activity upon the deck. One slip up, one wrong move, and the pirate knew his ship and crew would join the others at the bottom of these waters.

“Steady, Cap’n!” Mr. Withers confirmed.

His glaring, spark-orange eyes alit to the slackless sails above him, a frown piercing through his snarly, black beard.

“Mr. Loose! I thought I told you to keep the sails at twenty degrees! Get them back!” Powder Burn snarled.

“Aye, Cap! Sorry, Cap!” a pegasus called back, relaying orders to his fellow sailmasters who quickly made the proper adjustments, loosening and reigning in lines to adjust the sails.

The Sacrilegious Saint, a hulking galleon of a warship, skimmed past another one of the many tower-like slate structures littering the seas around Outcast isle. Steep as walls and moss-ridden, the sheer mass of them prevented any straight approach to Outcast isle. Small pieces could be seen shearing off at times and splashing down into the water like chunks of ice from a glacier.

Rounding the structure, previously blocked sunlight spilled across the deck, forcing any not wearing hats to squint against the glaring light.

“Keep her close to the rock, Mr. Withers! Almost there!” Powder Burn called again, trotting back towards the stern, “Through the final two and we’re home free, you know the drill!”

“Aye, Cap’n!” Withers called back, turning the wheel.

The ship heeled well to the commands of the wheel, hugging the side of the slate tower. Powder Burn, heading up to the aftcastle, cast a glance to the murky waters below. Barely concealed by the waters a sharp reef lay in wait for any ship who’s captain was an alien to these waters. A mere ten yards to port and they’d find themselves taking on water with their hull shredded and smashed.

But veterans of these waters, the Sacrilegious Saint’s crew kept a steady course, plowing through a gap between two more slate towers and hitting the deeper waters surrounding their destination.

A final, massive, hulking cliff of even more jet-black slate, resting in the water, sat before them. The steep walls jutting thousands of feet into the air, shrouded in wayward mists blown about by unpredictable winds.

Steep and unscalable, there was a single slitted crevasse in the otherwise impenetrable wall. Just large enough for a couple of ships to pass through and not trade splinters. It was the only way to get into or out of Outcast isle besides flight, and vicious, swirling winds berating the top of the cliffs made that nearly impossible.

Guided by her crew, the Sacrilegious Saint made its quick way through the gap, the cliffs shooting outwards and bending inwards to form a crescent if viewed from above, earning Crescent Cove its name. A sandy island nestled in the middle of the circle of slate walls made up the closed side of the crescent, palms and moldy docks littering the shoreline. Further up the beach lay wooden buildings crowded with the small figures of ponies, smoke trailing upwards from the ones with chimneys.

In the waters before the island, a motley handful of ships lay anchored, bobbing gently in the waters with their broadsides facing towards the far end of the cove.

Brining his spyglass to bear, Powder Burn noted as gun ports were shut, cannons pulled back as their gun crews went back to business upon confirming his ship’s identity. Should any ship not bearing a pirate flag find their way into the cove, they would certainly be hard pressed to leave it in anything but shattered timbers.

Breathing only the slightest breath of relief, Powder Burn slipped the spyglass back into his hammerspace, “Bring her to the normal spot, Mr. Withers! Port side to the cove!”

“Port side to the cove! Aye, cap’n!” Withers called back, steering the ship.

Home, sweet home, Powder Burn thought with a grin.

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

Burn gave the door a solid set of knocks. With a creak, it opened a sliver at first, then was drawn all the way open to reveal a pink-coated, green-maned unicorn mare with dark purple eyes. Her fur and mane seemed to shimmer lightly even in the dull light. She eyed the pirate up and down once, a smile growing upon her face.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite scourge of the seas,” she said with a seductress’ grin, stepping back to let him in, “get in here and strip.”

Burn obliged, trotting in and eyeing the room. Decorative shutters let in only the dullest of morning lights, a dying lantern and a few dripping candles lighting it a tad more. It looked to be a standard bedroom with a large, messy bed, faded privacy curtain, dresser, and an end table. A coat hanger stood guard over the door.

“So how’s business for you?” the prostitute inquired, trotting away towards a bed. She lifted her short tail, giving Burn a perfect glimpse of her slit and pucker as he removed his hat, setting it on the hat rack. A stirring began to grow in his loins at the sight.

“Good, got good hauls from the past few ships,” he replied, undoing his belt and hanging it with the hat, “You’ve kept the place clean, Squeaky,” he admired the room’s nigh-impeccable state.

“Just like my name,” Squeaky Clean replied, turning about and eyeing Burn once more, eyes lingering as he pulled off his shirt and hung it with the rest, “The usual, then?”

Burn nodded, now naked.

“Well then go get comfortable,” she smiled, gesturing to the bed, “Oh. And I’m experimenting with this new temporary lactation spell, wanna give it a shot? Free of charge...for now.”

“Well if it’s free,” he smiled back, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he passed to the bed, “It’s for me.”

“Very well, then,” Clean replied, her horn glowing dully for a few seconds before fading.

Burn hopped onto the bed, laying down on his side facing Clean as she approached.

She pressed a kiss into his lips, her short tail kinking further up with arousal. He greeted her lips with his own, mouth meeting hers as he brought up a hoof to caress her flowing mane.

She drew a loving forehoof across his furry, barrel chest, across his solid stomach, and down to his slightly unsheathed member. She gave him a few slow strokes, teasing his kissing mouth with her tongue as she drew a few more inches out of him.

She then pulled away from the kiss, flashing a femme fatale-esque smile. She joined him atop the bedsheets, straddling him with her crotch over his face and his growing cock under hers.

“Shall we begin?” she asked with a light giggle, tail swishing once behind her, “Don’t forget to nibble.”

“You mean this?” Burn teased, lifting his head enough to nibble at one of her now-swollen teats nestled ‘tween her thighs. She gave a light gasp of surprise and ecstasy as a squirt of warm milk flooded Burn’s mouth. It was warm and thick with a light, fatty taste as it dribbled down Burn’s throat. He lifted a forehoof, nudging the other as he sucked daintily at the first.

“Mmm,” Clean moaned, enjoying the teat play for a moment longer before returning the favor.

Her lips met with the base of Burn’s fleshy girth in a small kiss, earning a shudder of delight from its owner and finally growing to a fully erect state. Drawing towards the tip, she planted a trail of smooches further up and up towards the flat head of his cock before she met dick-to-tongue, drawing her wet taste-organ down the entire length of his shaft. His legs bucked lightly at the treatment, as if trying to push himself further towards the source of his arousal.

Burn moaned into the teat he was nibbling on, teasing out another small squirt of warm milk and a quiet hum of delight from Clean. Her smile grew at the action, her teasing effective.

Done with the foreplay, Clean drew back once more and took him with her mouth. She played with the end of his shaft, rubbing its hard length against the sides and top of her mouth, all the while massaging the throbbing object with her tongue and sucking ever-so-gently.

“Mm,” Burn groaned, sucking harder at Clean’s teat, getting another warm mouthful of milk, some of it spilling out the side of his mouth and soiling the bedsheets below.

Casting another quick spell to help her breathe and numb her uvula, Clean began taking him further down her throat. She drew forwards and back, moving only her head and neck to let Burn keep nibbling at her teat. Her lips sealed tight around him, only small dribbles of drool escaping as she drew back and forth, pulling him slowly further towards an orgasm.

The sensation of constant motion made Burn let out another pleasurable moan, air-bucking as she kept up her treatment, her mouth curving slightly into a smile as she sucked harder and faster. Brining a hoof up, she cupped his fuzzy balls in the frog of her hoof, rubbing gently in time with her own suckling.

Burn let out another moan of joy as Clean seemed to grow faster in her movements and sucking in time with his nearing orgasmic edge, a tenseness in his loins demanding a growing release. He nibbled and kissed at her dripping teat with increased fervor, body growing tense to the incoming orgasm.

He bit down hard with a grunt as he came, spewing his warm seed down her throat. Clean continued her vacuum-tight seal around his member as the gush of pony-paste rushed down her throat, urging it on with occasional sucks and strokes.

Burn released her from his teeth, resigned to heavy panting as a tiredness overcame him. Keeping him in her mouth as his spewing turned into a trickle, Clean gave occasional sucks and tugs at Burn’s member, sending sparks of ecstasy through his orgasm-muddled mind.

He gave another low mumble of pleasure, hind legs relaxed to his sides as she rubbed gently at his balls, coaxing the last few spurts of him out. Finished, she released him from her lip’s grip, looking back over her withers with a flick of her flowing mane.

“Anything else tonight, Captain?” she inquired, rubbing him from the base of his hairy sheath to the tip of his fleshy dick with a gentle forehoof.

“Mm, no,” Burn mumbled, sated cock sliding back from whence it came. He scooted over, Clean stepping over him, and rolled onto his side, patting the bed, “Just stick with me a while,” he said, spark-orange eyes shut and a pleased smile shining through his beard.

Squeaky Clean smiled, turning about and lying down next to him with a smile, running a hoof through his tangled, messy mane as he drifted off to sleep.

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“So what do I owe you this time?” Powder Burn asked, dressing as he prepared to leave.

“Fifty bits,” Clean replied, rolling over onto her side as she lay in the bed, watching him intently.

“Fifty, eh?” Burn asked with a small smile, reaching into his hammerspace and retrieving two moderately sized coin purses, “Plus a tip, that brings you to a hundred,” he replied, floating over the two bags with his magic.

Clean sighed with a roll of her eyes, “You don’t have to give me so much, Captain. Ten for the blowy and foreplay, forty more for the overnight cuddling,” she said, taking both bags anyways. She pocketed one in her own hammerspace, sending the other over to the dresser.

“What sort of prostitute refuses good coin from a client?” Burn asked, chuckling as he tightened his belt.

“For you?” Clean hopped out of the bed, trotting over and sliding his hat onto his head for him, he smiled back at her, “I’d do it for free and beg for seconds,” Clean said, sincerity in her smiling features as she gave him a quick kiss.

“And I’d still overpay you,” Burn replied with a chuckle, slipping his shirt back on, “you deserve it.”

05 - Letters Received and Sent

Lieutenant Broadhead frowned as he read over the message again. It had but a minute ago arrived with a *pop* of magical energy in front of him, seal and all...

Dear Lieutenant Broadhead,

I have a favor to ask of you concerning your captain, my beloved Captain Frostbite on this mission of his. By the goddesses, I cannot lose him to the pirate Powder Burn, to the sea, or to any other many things that I know will plague the mission he has partaken in.

What I ask of you is simple. Should the mission prove so dangerous as to threaten the life of Captain Frostbite, I beg of you to…

“Ship on the horizon!” the call came from the crow’s nest above, “Dead ahead! She’s flying no colors!” the lookout continued.

Broadhead quickly spotted Frostbite, the captain bringing a spyglass to bear, a frown spotting his lips. He began to approach as Frostbite brought the glass away, his eyes bearing a questioning look, “Down with our colors!” he called upwards, “Up with one of the Equestrian Merchant’s Guild! Hopefully that will not scare them off.”

“Aye, sir! Down with the colors! Raise that of the Merchant’s Guild!” the lookout cried back, lowering their Equestrian Navy flag and running up another.

“They’re at the site of the wreck?” Broadhead asked, more an observation than an actual question.

Frostbite nodded. Their search for Powder Burn began at the site where the Majestic Pride had been sunk. It would be ludicrous to expect to find the pirate there, but that was not the intent of their visit.

“They are. I cannot tell for certain, but the ship appears to be a fat little carrack,” Frostbite said, “Three masts, all sails tucked away, bobbing at anchor.”

“And none of ours if she’s flying no colors,” Broadhead commented.

Frostbite nodded again, “Any vessel of ours should be long gone from here. If that one is simply sitting there then I would wager our luck has paid off,” he turned to Broadhead with a quick smile, “a scavenger’s ship, no doubt.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“The Vultures’ Delight,” Frostbite said, an eye to his spyglass again, “a fitting name for a vessel like that.”

The other ship had shown no sign of spotting the Crown’s Judgement until they had nearly quartered the distance between the two vessels. Either the other ship didn’t care about the vessel careening straight at them—which was quite unlikely—or the current lookout would shortly be getting a good beating from his superior.

As it was, the Vultures’ Delight’s only reaction so far was to rotate perpendicular to the oncoming Crown’s Judgement and ready her guns, the four that there were per side bristling and ready to fire at a word. A word that hadn’t been given thus far.

Worried faces of a skeleton crew crowded the deck of the other vessel as Frostbite eyed them over with his spyglass. They appeared filthy and a little malnourished, likely a testament to a long voyage. Many of them wielded weapons, mostly carpentry and cooking tools with a few gleaming cutlasses and boarding pikes. Nothing the Guards couldn’t handle should the other vessel prove hostile.

A single earth pony glared back from the high aftcastle, one eye squinted shut as the other was pressed to a spyglass.

“The Vultures’ Delight. Captained by Slate Sheet, earth pony, male,” a Guard to Frostbite’s left read off a large tome, Frostbite lowered his spyglass, “while not wanted for any crimes, it’s suspected he’s a part-time pirate fence,” the Guard finished, closing the tome and stuffing it into his hammerspace.

“Thank you, Ensign Scribe, dismissed,” Frostbite said.

“Aye, sir,” Scribe said with a salute, trotting off.

“Nothing to get him on, no leverage, what’s the plan?” Broadhead inquired, five other spear-wielders with telescoping spears waiting stoically behind him.

“Ask him politely,” Frostbite replied, “he knows we wield the bigger stick and these are international waters. Hopefully that is all the leverage we need. If not,” Frostbite shrugged and jerked his head behind him, where a large group of Guards had amassed, many more still waiting in reserve belowdecks, “We are well within firing range and four cannons are no match for sixty Equestrian Royal Navy combatative spellcasters.”

“Hm,” Broadhead grunted as Frostbite turned about. By now the two ships were almost a mile out, white wake washing out behind the Crown’s Judgement as it raced forth through the water. Wind Breaker, flying above with his team of sailmasters, continued relaying orders to his lackeys, getting the best possible speed out of the ship.

“Petty Officer Amplify, your spell, if you please?” Frostbite asked one of the many Guards waiting behind him.

“Aye, sir,” Amplify nodded, closing his eyes in concentration as he cast and held a spell.

Frostbite cleared his throat, which now sparkled with magical light, “This is the ENS Crown’s Judgement! Lay down your arms and prepare to be boarded!” he called out towards the Vultures’ Delight. Many of those on board visibly flinched at the sudden shout.

Silence replied for a short while, the only sound the snapping of sails above and the wash of water below.

“Sorry, my good sir!” a mocking voice called out from the other ship venomously, the voice amplified much like Frostbite’s own, “But I don’t consent to illegal searches! Have a good day!”

Frostbite frowned at the reply before calling back, “We do not intend to search your vessel if you comply!” ‘In any case these are international waters, there are no protecting laws here,’ he didn’t add, “We merely wish to ascertain your reason for visiting the area of a recent pirate attack, as well as ask you a few questions, Captain Slate Sheet!”

The silence was deafening for even longer now, the ships now only a half-mile apart and still closing. The cannons of the other ship continued to glisten in the sunny daylight, sharp flashes of light gleaming off the steel of weapons as their owners fidgeted. Frostbite wondered if he had, perhaps, gone too far in spooking the other pony. He glanced behind him, knowing the orders he’d given his crew in case they were fired upon.

“What sort of questions!?” the voice suddenly called back.

“Those of a more private nature. Something that I am sure somepony in your...position understands!” Frostbite called back. When another reply was not forthcoming, he continued, the ships a quarter-mile apart, “Make us wait much longer and you will have peaked my suspicion enough that we will search your vessel, Captain Sheet!”

This time the gap of silence was only a few seconds long, “Fine! But your colts stay on the main deck! You may send one representative to my cabin to make your inquiries, then be on your way!”

A faint cry came from the other vessel, the meaning lost in the distance. Frostbite brought his spyglass to bear once more with a nod to Amplify, watching as the ponies on deck put aside or sheathed their weapons. The cannons were quickly pulled back, the wooden slots falling flush with the side of the ship.

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“Back against the railing! On your bellies, all of you! Forehooves over your heads!” Broadhead ordered the other crew as he, Frostbite, and twenty other Guards crossed over, “We aren’t searching you, just want you where we can see you!” he added as many of the motley members looked startled, many readying to bolt.

‘If it were not for this mission, I would wager we would be making quite the arrest here,’ Frostbite mused, exchanging a look with Broadhead before the other moved forwards, getting the other crew in line.

“I don’t quite see how all this is fuckin necessary,” the slate grey form of Slate Sheet growled, eyeing his crew.

“Simple precaution, nothing more,” Frostbite assured the other captain as he inquired, “This is all of your crew?”

Sheet glanced at the assembled group on deck, most glaring balefully back at the Guards, “And if it ain’t?”

“Got ‘er secured all down there!” a sopping wet earth pony with an old-looking scuba tank said, hopping over onto the deck with a series of buddies and shaking dry, “Y’can haul ‘er up n—” the divers froze at the sight of the Guards.

“You lot,” Broadhead ordered, striding forth with two combat casters in tow, “emulate the rest!” he jerked his head to the group already on deck.

“Y-yessir!” the pony stuttered, the divers quickly following suit.

“Any more?” Frostbite inquired.

“Not unless they’re messin around belowdecks, no,” Sheet glowered, “Now are you gonna ask your damn questions or not? Faster you’re outta my mane, the better.”

Frostbite glanced about the deck, “You mentioned your cabin?” he said.

Sheet gave a growly mutter before turning and heading towards the high aftcastle, “What’d you say your name was, Captain…”

“I did not say my name,” Frostbite replied as the two stepped through a door and into the dank belly of the Vultures’ Delight. The interior smelled foul, fouler than even a ship stuck at sea a long time ought to have been. Creaks and groans emanated from the boards about the two ponies and weak light from underfed lanterns left most of the ship in shadows.

“This way,” Sheet muttered, “Mind your head,” he added, ducking down into a side passage.

Frostbite followed, ducking down as he entered a small, empty storage room...empty of crates and other supplies, at least.

A pegasus and a unicorn charged him, heavy wooden belaying pins clutched in maw and magic respectively.

“Alive! Remember!” Sheet growled from behind the two. Frostbite’s glare deepened.

The pegasus reached him first, or at least would have. Frostbite sent a blast of icy energy at the airborne attacker. The shot struck a wing and the pegasus gave a cry of startled pain as a chunk of ice encased the appendage.

No longer flying, the pegasus crashed into Frostbite, deflecting off the Guard as he cemented his stance. Frostbite’s magical shield flared a bright blue as the pegasus bounced and hit the deck as he clutched and swore at the frozen wing. His weapon clattered to the floor.

Frostbite fired twice more, turning for the second shot as the unicorn swung at his head. The first shot pinned one of the pegasus’s hooves to the deck in a chunk of ice. The second struck the unicorn’s horn, freezing that in a chunk of ice as well.

The unicorn yelped, the sudden feeling of super-intense brain freeze breaking his concentration and letting the belaying pin clatter to the floor. Frostbite swiveled and threw a buck to the still charging unicorn’s face, the enemy’s nose exploding in a flower of blood as he stumbled back with a cry of pain.

Four more icy blasts and the unicorn’s hooves were stuck icily in place. He pulled at his hooves in painful fright, but to no avail. His eyes grew wide as he looked up in time to find his own weapon turned against him, Frostbite bringing it crashing down on his skull with a hoof.

The unicorn hit the deck, blood pooling down around his battered nose as he took a nap. The same treatment shut the pained pegasus up as well. Both threats taken care of, Frostbite let the icy creations melt, turning to see Sheet, eyeing him with frantic horror as he tried to yank a pistol from his belt.

Frostbite was faster.

He flung the belaying pin with his magic, the blow striking Sheet across the face, making him recoil with a loud swear. Frostbite galloped forth, yanking the pistol from Sheet’s belt and floating it over to him.

Sheet recovered as Frostbite pressed the pistol to Sheet’s muzzle, the murder in the earth pony’s eyes turning to horror as he crossed them at the weapon. The wide, stricken orbs darted to Frostbite’s calm face. A pattering of urine stained the deck between Sheet’s quivering hind hooves as he wet himself in fright.

“P-please don’t k-kill me!” Sheet stuttered in fright, sweating bullets.

“Who set this up?” Frostbite asked, his voice calm despite the situation, “Powder Burn?”

“Wh-what? I...w-why would he...” the words stumbled out of Sheet’s maw with fright.

“You have two seconds to answer the question,” Frostbite stated, “Who hired you to kill me?”

“What!? No! I-I did!” Sheet replied, eyes darting to the gun as if afraid it would go off, “N-not kill you...I-I just wanted a hostage! Th-thought you were gonna search my-my vessel!” the eyes darted back to Frostbite.

‘And he thought taking me prisoner would give him a clean getaway card?’ Frostbite thought. Despite his stoically featureless face, he was incredulous at the idiocracy, “I am not going to search your vessel,” he asserted, lowering the pistol, “and I am not going to kill you...” Sheet gave a sigh of relief, mouthing what looked like a silent prayer, “...provided you answer my questions truthfully,” Sheet gulped.

“Now: where is the pirate known as Powder Burn?”

“Wh-why are you asking m—” he shut his trap as the pistol rose an inch towards his face, “I-I don’t know where he is!” the pistol rose another, “No, please! I swear I don’t know!” he blubbered.

“You are a pirate fence and yet you have the audacity to try to tell me you honestly do not know where a pirate is?” Frostbite asked, bringing the pistol to bear once more. Sheet would have wet himself again had he not already.

“Please! No, I don’t! I don’t! The only ponies who know where pirates hole up are pirates themselves! Ponies like me…” he jerked a hoof towards himself, “...we don’t get told shit about where they hole up! I j-just sell them stuff! Buy their stuff! But they find me, not the other way around! Please don’t kill me!” the last line was a wail as Sheet fell to his hooves, “Please! Please!”

“You know nothing about where pirates like Powder Burn hole up?” Frostbite asked, clarifying as he brought the pistol away.

“No, no!” Sheet mumbled from the floor, “Just that they call it Outcast Island...something like that.”

‘Outcast Island,’ Frostbite considered, he’d never heard of such a place before, “And what do you know about Outcast Island?”

“It’s a safe haven. For pirates,” he looked up miserably to Frostbite, “But nopony can find it, nopony who’s never found it before. Waters around it are treacherous, filled with rocks and reefs and monsters, only the pirates know the way through. Please, it’s all I know.”

‘If the only ponies who can find it are those who have found it, how did they find it in the first place,’ Frostbite mused at the lack of logic behind the idea, “And that is where Powder Burn would have gone?”

“Y-yeah. There or…” he trailed off, looking quickly away.

Frostbite narrowed his eye, inching the pistol closer.

“Prance! Prance!” Sheet cried out. Frostbite raised an inquisitive eyebrow, “What? You know how those flying fuckers are! Pass em a few coins and it’s: ‘welcome to Prance, Mr. Smith!’ They habit the area, usually find us there when they wanna trade and stuff!”

“Any specific port?” Frostbite asked. Sheet opened his mouth to reply, the pistol inched forth as Frostbite added, “Lie to me and you will regret it concerning this.”

Sheet closed his mouth and gulped again, “I...you’ll want the port les Stables-d'Olonne, the smallest one at the border between Prance and Great Grifon. If he d-didn’t go to Outcast Island, he surely went there...to sell to another fence.”

Frostbite mulled that bit of information over for a time. The unicorn behind him gave a moan, rubbing his bloody nose painfully with a hoof. He began to get to his hooves, but froze as his eyes locked onto Frostbite, the pistol rested in his grip now pointed at the unicorn.

“Get back up and I will put you back down,” Frostbite said. The unicorn lay back down, glaring as he nursed his wounds. He turned back to Sheet, “If I should find out that you are lying to me…”

“I’m not!” Sheet cried, “If he’s not gone to Outcast Isle, he’ll be in Les Stables-d'Olonne! I swear!”

Frostbite eyed the earth pony icily for a long minute, “We shall see,” he finally replied, turning as if to leave before stopping and turning back, “One final question: have you salvaged any Royal Guard armor from the wreck.”

“Y-yes, a few pieces...here and there,” Sheet said with a wince.

“See to it that they are returned to Equestria…” Frostbite’s eyes narrowed, “...or else.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“They’re gone!” the lookout called from above.

“Are you sure!?” Sheet demanded with a snarl, “If I find out you’re as full as shit as you were when you didn’t spot them coming…”

“Sure, cap’n!” the lookout cried back down.

“You’d better call it out if they start turning!” Sheet called back up, before disappearing into his cabin. He gathered up and inkwell and quill, setting a sheet of parchment before him. The message was brief, it didn’t need to be long.

“Mr. Sender!” Sheet called out, a unicorn with a flaming scroll cutie mark trotting in.

“Aye, captain?” Sender asked.

“I’ve got a message I need you to send,” Sheet said, rolling and tying up the parchment, “For Captain Powder Burn.”

06 - It Takes a Pirate...

*Scrape* observed the knife as it ran down the whetstone.

Captain Powder Burn turned the weapon around in his magic, scraping the other side down once more against the stone.

Large bonfires danced tantalizingly before him, the waves crashing up on the beach eager to tango. Sihlouettes of ponies fought, froliced, and fornicated upon the beach before him, their shadows dancing madly to the tune of the massive flames.

“Alcohol,” Burn spat—literally, onto the drying stone to keep it nice and lubricated—as he glowered at the ponies down on the beach, “turns the fucking best of us into raving, thoughtless lunatics,” he gave a quiet growl as he grew silent.

*Scrape* the knife commented, flipping in his ruddy magic once more.

Many on the beach, he knew, were of his own crew. After many a harsh month at sea it was a blessing to be able to sit back and relax on solid ground. Most often, that meant squandering their winnings on fresh food, fresh whores, and fresh drinks, almost none of which were ever had often—if at all—at sea.

He let them. The sooner they ran out of ill-gained earnings and ran into more ill-gained debts to the merchants of flesh and drink the sooner they’d need to head out for more.

The sooner they could hunt again.

The sooner he could hunt again.

*Scrape* agreed the knife.

*Pop* retorted a scroll as it vaporized into existence before him.

Powder Burn nearly vaporized the scroll for good as he gave a startled flinch, horn glowing with angry arcane energies. He gave another annoyed growl, wiping the whetstone clean of spit and metal shavings on his filthy shirt before hammerspacing it and sheathing his knife.

Plucking the scroll off the sand in front of him, he unwrapped it and gave it a quick read.

Dear Captain Powder Burn,

You are being hunted by the Equestrian Royal Navy. I recently happened upon a Captain of said navy inquiring about your whereabouts. I managed to send him towards Prance for the time being.

Faithfully, your trusted friend,

Captain Slate Sheet of the Vultures’ Delight

Burn read over the warning note a few more times before giving a snort, “Who the fuck is Slate Sheet?”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

Powder Burn gave the door a solid set of knocks.

“Occupied!” a strained voice called back, a rhythmic creaking of wooden boards coming from the other side, “Fuck off!” Powder Burn opened the door enough to put his head through the opening.

Inside a unicorn stallion with a light orange coat and mane braided like many strands of hemp rope was sheath-deep in a mare. The sweat-damp, sin-stained bed the two lay on creaked in protest to the unicorn’s ferocious rutting. His magic flared up as a small dirk and two tar-black spherical grenades floated ready before him.

“Are you daft!? I said…” he halted in both speech and sex, if only for a mere second, as he recognized Powder Burn, “Uh, Captain?” he asked with surprise, continuing with the mare at a slower pace as he eyed Powder Burn curiously. The weapons returned to their scattered places amongst the floor.

“Are you going to be long, Slow Match?” he asked, eyes flicking to the mare. Her hindquarters were propped up by her stiff hind legs, giving Slow Match easier access. Her head was lowered to her front hooves, closed eyes and happy smile telling him she’d already had her share of the fun.

“N-no, just a—” he cut himself off with a wild whinny, arching his back up as his face clenched into an orgasmic grimace, gripping the mare tighter with his forehooves as he filled her with the warmth of his seed. Giving a few extra, short thrusts as he emptied himself into her, he lay down across her back, affectionately nibbling at her ears and neck as she let her hind legs give out.

“That all fer this evenin, love?” the mare inquired in a sugary, accented voice. She looked back over her withers at him, flashing a seductress’ smile, “Might be able to give y’all a two-on-one special,” she batted her eyes at Powder Burn.

“I’ll be out of your manes shortly,” Powder Burn assured, stepping inside and floating over the message, “Just received this by magic fire.”

Slow Match lay where he was, taking the letter in his own magic as he floated over a bottle of booze and took a large swig. His eyes darted over the page and he tipped the bottle in Powder Burn’s direction.

“You know I don’t drink, Slow Match,” Powder Burn replied to the offer, distasteful.

“Would be rude not to offer,” Slow Match replied, shrugging and taking another swig, “So we’re being hunted by the Equestrian navy?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Powder Burn jerked his head towards the letter, “Depends on who our sender is and if they’re full of shit. The name mean anything to you?”

“Hm,” Slow Match replied, swigging another gulp of booze as he looked at the name. He offered the bottle to the mare, who took her own, long, drag of the alcoholic beverage, “One of the fences, I think. Maybe trying to get his dick licked if the wording means anything,” he chuckled as he glanced over it, “sounds like a little ass-kisser to me.

“We’re not in Prance anyways, so what’s it matter?” he gave Powder Burn a wide grin, the booze in his belly no doubt fueling a good portion of his cheeriness, “Even if he wanted to, the fences don’t know where we are,” he gestured about the room with a hoof, “much less any of the safe routes into Outcast Isle!”

“Well,” Powder Burn growled, “Because I know of a little whore who probably is in Prance. One that I owe a great deal of gold and would likely throw me under to get her filthy, whoring, hooves on it.”

Slow Match’s grin faded, “Oh...wait, you don’t mean—”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“The Blackjack. Captained by Vanilla Bonnet, pegasus, female,” Ensign Cypher Scribe read out of the large tome, “wanted for charges of piracy, embezzlement, bribery, blackmail, and a list of other crimes by the following nations: Equestria, Great Grifon, Saddle Arabia, Germaneigh, Stalliongrad, Zeb—”

“Thank you, Ensign Scribe,” Frostbite cut the Guard off as he glared through his spyglass at the other ship, a two-masted brigantine with four starboard gunports, docked in the small harbor. It bobbed slowly with a series of other, random ships, “Dismissed.”

“Aye, sir,” Scribe said with a salute, trotting off as he hammerspaced the book.

“No sign of the Sacrilegious Saint,” Broadhead observed.

“No, he’s probably on Outcast Island, wherever that is,” Frostbite replied, snapping his spyglass shut, “But it takes a pirate to find Outcast Isle,” he turned to Broadhead with a cunning smile, “and we have a pirate somewhere in that little harbor town before us.”

“You intend to ask politely while wielding the larger stick?” Broadhead inquired, uncertainty in his tone, “No matter how friendly our nations may be, the fact that we are now operating in another nation’s waters means we lose some of that leverage.”

“No, I doubt coercion will work in this case,” Frostbite agreed, “She will either fight or flee if we try to force the issue and I doubt capture and interrogation will get us what we need. The bare bones of what we need perhaps, but anything short of her cooperation and we might as well not even bother.”

“So what do you suggest? Buy her off?” Broadhead asked, skeptical.

“Perhaps...perhaps not,” Frostbite was quiet for a minute, contemplating, “Have the colors dropped and issue an order for no uniforms on deck,” he suddenly said, “then get me ten of our best spellcasters and have them meet me below, no uniforms,” he smiled, “perhaps some shore leave will help me think of a way to work this out…”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“You don’t think she would...would she?” Slow Match inquired, dressing after having paid the whore. He slipped on a rough, leather vest and belt, tucking his explosives, a smallsword, and a dirk into place. The bottle followed him out in his magical grasp, his steps only somewhat unsteady. He took another swig.

“If the cunt thinks she can get that money I owe her from the Equestrian’s pockets…” Powder Burn growled, trailing off as he stared balefully ahead.

The two made their way down a set of stairs to the main lobby of the whorehouse. It was surprisingly up to date with an urban strip club, dancing ponies grinding up against poles in exotic and revealing poses. Others trotted about the many tables, serving both drinks and lap dances to their drunken and horny patrons. Loud music helped to blur every sound together, forcing Slow Match and Powder Burn to raise their voices a touch.

“But...would she give up the location of Outcast Isle?” Slow Match asked, genuinely worried. One ship we could easily handle...but if the Equestrians sent a dozen, more…blockaded us or collapsed our only way in and out of here…” he suddenly looked somewhat sick, and it certainly wasn’t from the alcohol.

“She’s not that fucking stupid. If she gave away Outcast Isle then where’d she run to to lay low? Nopony can hide indefinitely in the Mareibbean,” Powder Burn growled, “Don’t know what she’ll do.”

The two passed out into the cool night air, stars sparkling in the velvety sky above.

“Then what have we to fear? All we gotta do is keep off their radar long enough for them to give up,” Slow match began with another smile, “The chances of the Equestrians finding us are so slim, so—”

“Being called out as cowards.”

“What?” Slow Match asked, halting in his tracks a ways away from the whorehouse, aptly named: Winking and Dripping.

“What we have to fear from sitting here like a bedwetting bunch of fillies,” Powder Burn’s eyes seemed to burn, even in absence of the beach bonfires, “Being called out as cowards,” he spun about, “Inform the crew: we leave tomorrow at high tide.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

It had taken some time, and some bits, to get into the small port, but they had finally gotten clearance to weigh anchor and send a longboat ashore.

Being a shore-side harbor town, the little mess of buildings weren’t the standard cloud-constructed abodes that the homeland of the pegasi were famed for. These rotted, wooden structures—fewer larger than shacks—were stuck in the sands and dirt of the land, though a few cloud structures did dot the skies above.

Tall, thick mountains dotted the horizon, most capped in white snow and clothed in green forests. To the South rose Great Grifon, its numerous peaks taller and more crowded with trees than all others. In all other directions, Prance spread to the horizons.

All the buildings sagged with waterlogged boards, threatening to topple or tear apart at any moment. Few ponies milled about this late in the evening as, one by one, lights in stores and warehouses were extinguished.

Still, many buildings, most still roaring with boisterous noise, remained lit. Frostbite ran his eyes over the many taverns and clubs, smoke rising from chimneys into the dusky night. Eyeing their signs, he found the one he was looking for: the Scarlet Dog, if his prançais was up to date. Asking around had pointed him to this being his most likely target.

“You, head in now, you two find some time after I go in,” Frostbite ordered the ten assembled ponies waiting in the dark alley before him, “The rest of you, keep an eye on the tavern. You will know if this all goes to hell. If it does, do your best to apprehend Bonnet and get her back to the Crown’s Judgement. Any questions?”

“No, sir,” the ten chorused quietly, each saluting.

“Then let us tarry no longer,” Frostbite said with a nod, returning their salute and turning towards the tavern. The first pony entered, Frostbite following him a minute later.

The tavern was largely full, the vast majority of the patrons pegasi—Prance being their homeland—drinking, gambling, being merry with friends, and sleeping in alcohol-induced slumbers. A many series of crowded tables littered the alcohol-stained floor, the damp smell of wooden beams rotting from the dampness tainting the place with the smells of urine and vomit.

‘If this is one of the best taverns this place has to offer...’ Frostbite shuddered at the implication as he trotted to the long bar nestled against one wall.

“Que puis-je faire pour vous?” the bartender, a beer-bellied unicorn in a stained smock asked.

“Light ale,” Frostbite replied, switching over to the other language.

The bartender gave a grunt, horn lighting up as he ducked down behind the counter. Frostbite turned his head about with a bored expression, eyeing the room about him. When he spotted the unarmored Guard he’d sent in before him, the other gave the slightest jerk of his head to one side. Frostbite followed the movement and, in booth sat in a darkened corner, spotted his prize.

Her coat was an unblemished vanilla color, impeccably clean. Her short mane and tail were a fiery red that flashed memories of Purée across his vision. Her eyes were a buttery yellow that seemed to melt in the soft light of the room. In spite of himself, he felt his heart flutter at her beauty.

A polished, steel half-cuirass rested over her breast, the glimmering metal inlaid with fancy filigree, a shirt of mail over leather trailing out a ways from under it. Two needle-bladed daggers with wide dome guards were nestled into a belt around her waist.

Along with a mug, two other ponies in ratty sailor attire shared the table of Captain Vanilla Bonnet, their backs to Frostbite.

A mug slammed onto the bar, startling Frostbite as the bartender named the price.

“What can you tell me about that mare in the corner?” Frostbite inquired as the bartender swept up the bits. He took a sip of his drink, needing to choke the foul substance down, ‘Certainly not the kind of drink I am used to,’ he mentally cringed, setting the mug back down.

“Do I fuckin know ya, lad?” the bartender grumbled after glancing to Bonnet’s corner, eyeing him warily.

“No,” Frostbite admitted with a small smile, “but I would wager that you know a few of my friends,” he set a trio of coins onto the counter with his magic.

The bartender swept the coins up in his magic faster than the blink of a cat, “That I do,” he said, “tha’s Cap’n Bonnet of’a Blackjack ya’ve got yer eyes on there. Pretty mare; she’s gotta cunny an’ she knows how ta use it ta get what she wan’s. But ya cross her?” he took a mug and a rag in his amber magic, cleaning one with the other, “Well...le’s just say ponies’ve started ta calling Cap’n Milo ‘the One-nut Mutt’ fer a reason ever since he tried ta take her an’ lost.”

‘Duly noted,’ Frostbite thought, mentally wincing at a ghostly pain in his loins, “The pirate,” he stated.

The bartender paused a moment in his cleaning, “Aye, some folks call ‘er that.”

“And being a pirate, I assume that she has accumulated some amount of dirt around the edges,” Frostbite stated, “Happen to know anything concerning that?”

“Well now, tha’ depends on whether ya’ve got any more friends I might know,” Ten more coins were swept off the bar, “Now I can’t say I know much concernin dirt on Bonnet,” Frostbite’s calm expression grew suddenly cold, the bartender hesitated, “But I know for a fact she’s owed quite a bit’a gold from another of her lot,” he spat into the mug, using the saliva to polish away a stain. Frostbite gave his own mug a weary look.

“Hey,” the bartender spoke up, somewhat defensive, “At least I don’t water down my stuff with piss. Ol’ Hodge Podge at the Kicking Bucket down’a street does and he ain’t even the worse’a the lot.”

“So who owes Bonnet?” Frostbite asked, getting back on track.

“Pirate by the name’a Cap’n Powder Burn,” the bartender spoke up, spotting the look on Frostbite’s face, “I see ya know the name’a that one.”

“That I do,” agreed Frostbite cooly, tossing the bartender a final coin and turning from the bar. The bartender took the coin and spat in the mug once more, wiping the grime away.

Author's Note

Fuck 'em if they hate, I'm not letting the story die.

07 - To Catch a Pirate...

“The crew won’t be happy to hear this, captain,” Slow Match said as he stood facing Powder Burn in the dirt streets of Monger’s Row, the main street that led about Outcast Isle, “Would it be that hard to give them a few more days to waste their earnings before we go on this quest? I fear that if we force them out after only a brief reprieve—”

“Slow Match,” Powder Burn began, shutting his orange companion up, “Some shit-eating Navy runt decided it’d be fun to go out and try to hunt me down,” he took a step forwards, “to hunt us down. I don’t take that kind of challenge, that kind of insult, lightly.”

“This won’t be good for their morale. They lost quite a few rushing aboard that last ship,” Slow Match tried again, “If we thrust them out again so soon, it’s bound to backfire.”

“We always lose a bunch, it’s expected and,” he stomped a hoof to assert the point, “I won’t have their opinions of me undermined if I let this sit. In any case,” he turned away with a growl, “the sooner we get this taken care of, the sooner we ensure someone like Bonnet doesn’t go and fuck everything up!”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

Frostbite strode up towards Bonnet’s table, the sound of other conversations drowning out all but the soft movements of her vanilla lips. As he drew nearer, however, whispers of words began to kiss at his ears. One of the other two ponies at her table slammed a hoof on it, rattling her mug. Her buttery eyes flickered to it, a mild scowl sullying her features.

“Damnit, mare!” the male snarled, “The prices I’m givin you are far more fuckin fair than any other thrice-blasted fence is willin to pay!”

“Yet still not fair enough for me, Mr. Garters,” Bonnet replied with a voice as even as churned cream, scowling lazily back at him.

“And what you claim is a fair price is somethin that damn well ain’t,” he snarled, shoving an accusatory hoof in her direction, “and you damn well know it!” he jerked the green hoof back towards his chest, “I’ve already got to deal with sellin all that shit you dredge up! Pay all the tariffs! Pay off all the inspectors! Fuck, I’ve got to pay my crew to keep their driveling mouths shut!” he quickly turned to his partner and Frostbite caught a glimpse of a horn and cherry eyes under the pony’s ratty hat, “No offense to you, Mr. Gates.”

“None taken, captain,” the second pony replied.

“So, yeah!” Garters snarled back to Bonnet as he turned back to her, “All that shit I’ve got to deal with just so I can sell your ill-gotten goods. So if you ain’t willin to negotiate to my bloodied terms and quit being such a filthy, rotten, whor—”

The word was hardly out of his mouth when Bonnet launched into a sudden flash of movement, finishing the move before the derogatory term could stain his lips. His mouth remained open as one of Bonnet’s short blades pressed into the bottom of Garters’ jaw. Her eyes latched onto his partner, the deadly look in her eyes him freezing him in his place.

“You will not,” her eyes latched back onto Garters, “use that word in my presence,” her glaring eyes considered a moment, and she amended: “at least not when it just so happens that I'm the pony it’s being directed at. I am many things, Mr. Garters, you'd do well to remember that a whore is not one of them.”

She gently pressed the needle-like blade deeper into the skin of his chin, forcing him to shut his maw and drawing a drop of blood forth from his flesh.

“If we’re not clear on that…” she trailed off, eyes flickering downwards for a short moment, “Well...let’s just say that your throat is safe from my weapons. Elsewhere? Not so much,” Garters gave a gulp, tail tucking with discomfort, “You will either accept my offer or leave it. My prices are final. If you wish to reconsider, you know where to find me. Now get out of my sight,” her blade retracted from his chin and Garters took a quick step back, glowering as he rubbed at his injury, and headed for the door with Gates in tow.

“By Luna, the nerve of some ponies,” Bonnet grumbled to herself, wiping a small stain of blood onto the filthy table she sat before, “Would you not agree?” her eyes flicked to Frostbite, who was now only steps away from the table, full of a curious fire. She returned the weapon to her belt and took a drink from her mug.

“I might have put it a little less harshly,” he commented, throwing the leaving pair a glance, “but to the rest, I can attest.”

“You don’t happen to know Mr. Garters of the Frothing Serpent. He may whine and complain about costs and expenses, but his ship’s well taken care of and his crew are decently healthy. He’s just a greedy little bastard, come dawn he’ll accept my terms.”

“I suppose this spot is not taken?” Frostbite inquired, gesturing to the space Captain Garters and his colleague had recently sat at.

“Depends on who’s asking,” she replied, eyeing him up and down as the mug was returned to the table.

“A pony with a proposition,” Frostbite replied, taking a seat opposite the pirate.

“It seems those are a dime a dozen these days,” she replied with a tired sigh, eyeing a pedicured hoof boredly.

“You’re owed a great sum of money by the pirate Powder Burn,” Frostbite began, yet before he could continue, Bonnet’s eyes snapped to him.

“That’s captain Powder Burn,” she cut in with both voice and tone.

“Apologies,” he said with a fake smile, “nonetheless, he owes you quite the sum in money if my ears hear right. I happen to be capable of granting such a sum...for small services rendered.”

“Four thousand bits are hardly worthy of ‘small services,’” she gave a quick downwards glance at him, “Whatever the case, I don’t rent myself out to the likes of you. The local brothel, however…” she trailed off with a knowing smile.

Despite his training, Frostbite gave her a disgusted look, “I’m a married stallion,” he snapped, “to even think such a thing!”

Bonnet shrugged, “Wouldn’t be the first time,” she replied casually, “but you’ve sparked my interest enough, what do you want?”

“Captain Powder Burn, dead or alive,” Frostbite replied, cutting right to the point.

Bonnet’s creamy eyes studied Frostbite for the longest time. They ran across his surface, inspecting his dispassionate look. They darted above and beyond him, across the room about them before resettling back on the captain, laying there for a time.

She took another sip from her mug.

“He’s clean,” she began in a contemplative voice, “so are the three of his companions that came with him, both before and after,” Frostbite showed no sign of his surprise at her knowledge that the others were with him, “He doesn’t favor the swill served here and he’s got plenty of money to bribe a bartender for whatever reason. Then he approaches the deadliest mare in the room with nothing more than his coat, cock, and horn, and offers that mare a large sum of bits for the head of one of her notorious colleagues. So I ask myself,” she took another sip from her mug, the wild tilt of her head showing that it was nearing empty, “‘who is this colt?’”

“Does it matter?” Frostbite inquired, not willing to blow his cover so soon.

“Only if you want to keep this conversation going,” she replied simply.

Frostbite himself was quiet for a time, before extending a hoof for shaking. He smiled grimly, “Captain Frostbite of the Crown’s Judgement.”

His offered hoof was ignored as Bonnet appeared to take mental note of his name, running it through a list in her head. As it clicked, her eyes darted wide, body growing tense. Her eyes darted once around the room. Frostbite opened his mouth to console her and she, in another flash of movement, had one of her blades pressed against his throat.

“Equestrian Royal Navy,” Bonnet stated, a tinge of worry in her voice, “The fuck you know how to find me!?” she demanded with a low growl.

“A little seapony told me,” Frostbite replied, keeping his face an emotionless mask as he quickly brought a series of spells to the forefront of his mind, not charging them up just yet so as not to alert her with the glow of his horn, ‘should she try anything...’ he mentally trailed off, “As to what I want, I have already told you. I have no current quarrel with you, Ms. Bonnet—”

“That’s captain Bonnet,” Bonnet snarled in a deadly voice.

“Captain Bonnet,” Frostbite amended, “I have no quarrel with you, I simply seek to capture captain Powder Burn and deliver payment for services rendered,” he gave her a reassuring smile, “No more, no less.”

A mysterious face washed over her, contemplating and calculating. A sudden smile sprouted across her honeyed lips, though it was devoid of any form of mirth.

“Right,” she replied with her grim grin, “And is it before or after I give you that information that you try to take me as well? I’ve played this game before, captain Frostbite.”

A frown felled his smile as he opened his mouth to reassure her. She pressed her blade deeper into him as she spoke up first.

“‘Oh, but whatever do you mean, captain Bonnet?’” she said in a gruff imitation of him before switching back to her own, cold voice, “I know the oaths you foals take,” a disgusted sneer crossed her face, “It’s all lollipops and sunshine until you’ve got what you want and then I’ll be joining captain Powder Burn in your brig.”

“So the answer is no?” Frostbite asked, selecting a spell to use should things go sour, ‘It can not be said that I did not try,’ he thought.

“Seeing as you only brought half the number I brought, I’d wager it would do you good to get the fuck out of here and never let me catch sight of your ship,” Bonnet suggested, a drop of blood was sprung from the confines of Frostbite’s hide, running down the steel blade of her weapon.

“Ah, but what I lack in numbers I make up for in skill,” he gestured behind him with his eyes, uncertain what she would do if he were to move his head, “My guards are sober, smart, and skilled. Can you say so much for your own, captain Bonnet?”

Bonnet’s unfriendly smile turned into a sour frown, “You have no quarrel with me,” she sneered back, quoting him.

“Not so long as you cooperate, I do not,” he agreed, “But fail to provide aid…” he trailed off, letting the threat hang in the air.

“I don’t like being threatened,” Bonnet growled back.

Frostbite gave her a thin smile, jerking his eyes down to the needle-blade pressed into the soft flesh beneath his jaw, “I would hate for this to come to blows, captain Bonnet,” he said, “But I will do whatever, whatever,” he repeated, leaning an inch forwards as his face hardened, “It takes to bring that gelding bastard to justice.”

Bonnet grew quiet once more, the calculating look returning to her creamy eyes. They suddenly softened and she gave a light, knowing giggle, taking a finishing swig from her mug with her free hoof.

“And here I thought you Guards were all emotionless geldings. I know that look. You want vengeance,” she observed, “That, or you should’ve gotten a mark in acting.”

“Quite a few others have called it that,” Frostbite agreed, “And I am not lying.”

“We’ll see,” she said. Hesitating only for a moment longer, Bonnet finally withdrew her blade, though it remained clutched in the short-range telekinetic magic of her hoof, “Whatever it takes?” she asked. Frostbite nodded, “Tell me your story, then. You want vengeance? Why?”

“He killed my brother-in-law,” Frostbite stated simply.

“How?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Frostbite replied, voice set with a tinge of a growl, “But I know it was by his hooves that he died, a survivor reported as much.”

“A survivor?” Bonnet inquired, looking suddenly skeptical, “We are talking about captain Powder Burn here, correct?”

“He was in the crow’s nest when the ship exploded,” Frostbite reported simply.

Bonnet gave a quick shrug, “Well I guess we all make mistakes sometimes.”

“Mistakes!?” Frostbite demanded, “How does letting a prisoner live count as a mistake!?”

“Oh, well, I dunno,” she snapped back, “Maybe because not all of us like leaving prisoners alive. Captain Powder Burn certainly doesn’t,” her spout of anger faded with a quick smile, one that sent a few light butterflies through Frostbite’s stomach, “but, back on track: he killed your brother-in-law so you want his head? This isn’t some bullshit quest for justice? You’re not going to try and make this a two-for-one pirate special?”

Frostbite held his tongue for a time.

‘Is it?’ he wondered as he gazed back into the pirate’s eyes, ‘Justice would see both of these pirates hang for their crimes...’

‘Whatever it takes...’ he had said.

Justice would demand he incapacitate this mare and drag her back to Equestria for a deeper interrogation. Justice would demand they find out the location of Outcast Island and see it wiped clean off the map.

And yet he had no such intentions...yet.

“I would rather have the two of you brought back,” Frostbite admitted, “but if it takes a pirate to catch a pirate…” he trailed off, “I do not expect you to take me to Outcast Island and I do not expect you to put your own assets in harms way. All I expect is that, at the end of the day, I bring back captain Powder Burn. Whether whole or in pieces, I do not care.”

“And in return I get my four thousand bits?” Bonnet inquired.

“That you will,” Frostbite promised.

“Double cross me and I’ll geld you and make you chase your bits to the bottom of the sea with a cannonball as a guide,” she promised, offering a hoof, “That aside, you have a deal, Mr. Frostbite.”

“Captain Frostbite,” he countered, and shook.

Author's Note

Captain Vanilla Bonnet written by Warren Peace.

08 - Just Foreplay

A mass of ponies stood aboard the creaking deck of the Sacrilegious Saint, all eyes affixed on Captain Powder Burn. Among the sea of faces, Powder Burn spotted a vast array of expressions. There was fear and curiosity and admiration, all things that made him grin. Yet, few and far between as they were, occasional flashes of unhappiness and even poorly-concealed anger, faces that turned his gaze sour.

“Now I know you lot haven’t yet spent all the time drinking and whoring about Outcast Isle,” he put a hoof to his chest, “I myself could do with a few more nights getting my sheath polished if I’m being honest.

“But,” he procured the message from his hammerspace, holding it aloft like a gilded trophy. Once he’d finished with whatever Guard had set out to hunt him, he knew he’d be holding his severed head up in a very similar manner, “it has come to my attention that some low-lifed navy pig’s decided that he’s good enough to take us on! To take us down in the name of justice!” he snarled and spat, “Of civility!”

His wandering eyes caught three faces in the crowd, ghostly as they looked up at him. A mare and two foals. He blinked and they were gone.

“He thinks that he’s got guts and nuts enough to take on the best fucking batch of pirates this era’s ever seen!” he proclaimed, “the best fucking pirates on the best fucking ship under the best fucking captain since Sun Maven himself!

“And I promise you that once we’ve bagged this bastard, once we’ve taught this gelding scoundrel a lesson in who the fuck we are, that we’ll take time to bathe in our glory with all the whores and drinks you could ever dream up!

“But are we gonna stand for this kinda insult!?” he demanded, looking about his assembled crew. He gave a stomp, drawing his dagger with magic and thrusting it skywards, “I say neigh! And you lot!?”

“Neigh!” Slow Match roared, thrusting his smallsword skywards.

“Neigh!” yelled another, and another until a mass of shouts rang out across the water, a mass of weapons thrust skywards. The lookouts aboard the other pirate ships in crescent cove—those that weren’t in drunken slumbers—paid the other ship a glance before returning to drinking, sunbathing, and pleasuring themselves with hoof and horn.

“Then what’re we gonna do!?” Powder Burn cried down to the assembled ponies.

Some of their faces looked confused for a moment, looking about or up at him for the answer. He silently cursed the fact that so many of them were imbeciles.

“Hunt the bastards down and send their ship to the bottom of the sea!” Slow Match roared back.

“Aye!” the assembled crew roared out.

“Then to your stations!” Frostbite called forth, sheathing his weapon as the assembled ponies dispersed, “We’ve got a ship to catch.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“So,” Bonnet began, taking a gulp from her freshened mug as a barmare strutted away from the table, “I want half sometime between now and the morning.”

Frostbite gave her a confused expression and she rolled her eyes.

“Half of the four thousand. I’d love to take you on your word,” she gave him a stomach-fluttering smile, “But the last time I did that...well, I ended up having to kill a pony. Played with him a bit first, of course, one must send a message after all.”

“Two thousand is too much. I will give you a quarter between now and then,” Frostbite countered, “You cannot trust me, but that works both ways. More incentive to fulfill your part of the bargain if you are only getting a quarter of what I am willing to pay...” he considered what she’d said for a moment, “and why the morning?”

“I’m leaving then,” she said simply.

He let a suspicious look cross his features. Bonnet took another gulp of her drink.

“It won’t do for the ponies here to see us leave together,” Bonnet replied, “Word spreads faster than wildfire around here.”

“Then why are we discussing this in such a public place?” Frostbite asked, suddenly wary, “If—”

Bonnet cut him off, “You’re not the first stallion to approach me tonight,” she said, butter eyes flowing over the establishment, “you won’t be the last, no one will be any the wiser.”

“Ah,” Frostbite replied, turning back to her, if reluctantly.

“I’ll leave tomorrow,” she said, “I’d been planning to anyways. In a week I’ll contact you by magic fire with a location to meet up.”

An alarm went off in the back of his head, ‘And that is not suspicious at all...’

“And in this week you will be doing what, exactly?” Frostbite inquired.

“Getting Captain Powder Burn out in the open for you…” she trailed off, “unless you had something in mind?”

“Nothing solid, no,” Frostbite admitted, “So long as you can get him within range of me, I can destroy him.”

“Well then, I’ll get him moving and send you some coordinates to intercept. You can find him, destroy him, take your sweet revenge.”

“And how will I find you afterwards? Unless you are doing this out of the kindness of your heart?”

Bonnet gave a derisive snort of laughter at that, “My heart has no kindness for the likes of you,” she continued, unsmiling and businesslike, “I’ll be within range of sight by the time you begin to engage Captain Powder Burn. Provided you survive, I’ll expect the rest of my pay then,” she paused for a moment, considering as she eyed him over a gulp from her mug, “and we’ll settle on fifteen hundred now, the rest then. Fail to pay the rest and you’ll be in little state to defend yourself against me.”

‘Provided my ship takes sufficient damage,’ Frostbite didn’t say, “Fifteen hundred will do. You’ll have the rest once I have taken Captain Powder Burn.”

Bonnet smiled a pretty smile, pearly teeth flashing, “Well, then, I believe that’s everything?”

“I do believe so,” Frostbite replied, “One week?”

“One week, then you’ll have your letter,” Bonnet replied, lifting her mug to her muzzle, “Now leave, this talk of treachery makes my throat itch.”

Frostbite gave a grunt and stood, leaving the Scarlet Dog and returning to his ship. Broadhead, naked of arms or armor, met him on the darkened deck.

“Things went well,” the lieutenant observed, “the others?”

“Returning in intervals, so as not to arouse suspicion,” Frostbite replied, promptly filling his second in command in on the situation. A few of the others who’d gone with Frostbite had returned by the time he’d finished.

“I smell deceit,” Broadhead said, a small grin crossing his features, “and not just from her. Where do you intend to get the other half of the four thousand bits?”

“From Equestria, once we have Powder Burn properly shackled or hanged,” Frostbite replied, “if I was a betting pony, my money would be on her trying to take us after we defeat Powder Burn,” Frostbite turned his gaze back to the mainland, squinting into the dark, “she thinks we will be weakened by Powder Burn, and a wounded animal is much easier to take. As soon as Powder Burn is ours, we will make our way directly back to Equestria, Bonnet will have to wait for her payment.”

Broadhead gave a nod, “I’ll have the bits brought up, then.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

“That’s her, there,” Slow Match pointed out past his spyglass, “Portside of those two sloops, see her?”

Powder Burn scanned over the docks they were closing on, spotting the Vultures’ Delight bobbing off the shore.

“Aye, I see her.”

“Ugly little carrack,” Slow Match commented, he looked to his captain, “Orders?”

“One shore party, if we can’t find him there we’ll board his ship and see if he’s there,” Powder Burn snapped his spyglass shut, “I’ll pick the colts myself, have a longboat readied.”

“Aye, captain,” Slow Match replied.

Powder Burn chose four others to go with him, two pegasi, an earth pony, and another unicorn. Each was only lightly armed, he was here for one pony and didn’t want undue attention.

They rowed ashore under the dark of night, paying the docking fee and moving into town. It wasn’t hard to find the place where he’d be. Captain Slate Sheet had been most interested in meeting Captain Powder Burn to be rewarded for his letter, and had informed them where he was staying.

The earth pony, a massive creature with a braided beard named Split Grain, brought Slate Sheet from the tavern. He’d clearly had a few too many drinks, as his posture and breath both showed.

“Ah! Captain Powder Burn, my good friend! We meet at last!” Slate Sheet greeted.

“I’d suggest you keep your voice down, friend,” Powder Burn replied, “My name’s not much of a welcome one around here.”

“Aye. Aye!” Slate Sheet realized, looking about, “where’s a good place to talk, then?”

“Come,” Powder Burn led the group into the darkness, a grove of trees away from anything. Soft winds swooshed through the night, rustling branches like a careless peeping tom watching down on the group.

“A mite spooky, but it’ll serve, aye,” Slate Sheet observed once they came to a halt by one of the many trees, “You’re looking quite well, captain Powder Burn, how goes the pirate life?”

The other four stood about the two captains, silent and watching. Powder Burn nodded to Split Grain. In an instant the noose was around Slate Sheet’s neck, flung over a branch and pulled taut by the large earth pony. He hoisted Slate Sheet like a child might lift a doll.

Slate Sheet’s eyes bulged wide, legs kicking wildly as the rope pulled tight about his neck. His hind hooves scuffed at the ground as he was held up, flailing at the rope with his forehooves as he choked.

Powder Burn let him hang for a few seconds before ramming a forehoof into the pony’s gut and giving the order of, “Down.”

Split Grain took a few steps forwards, letting Slate Sheet back down. As he touched down, Slate Sheet collapsed into a gasping, coughing mess, curling up to hold his gut.

“Stand!” Powder Burn ordered.

“Wh—” Slate Sheet’s whimper was interrupted by a cough as he looked up to Powder Burn with watery eyes, “What?”

Powder Burn snarled and gave an upwards jerk of his head to Split Grain. The massive earth pony retreated a few steps, the rope taught in his mouth. Again it grew tight around Slate Sheet’s throat, yanking him gagging to his hind legs.

“There, keep him standing,” Powder Burn ordered before Slate Sheet could be pulled off the ground again.

Slate Sheet grabbed hold of the noose with his forehooves, keeping himself from choking as he was held up on his hind legs.

“Y-you s-said I’d be p-paid for helping you!” Slate Sheet dared to stutter as he eyed the other captain fearfully, “R-release me or...or—”

Stepping forth, Powder Burn drew his dagger and pressed the blade to Slate Sheet’s throat with his magic. Slate Sheet’s defiance immediately puddled about his hind hooves in a sudden gush of urine. Powder Burn gave the other captain a disgusted look at the display.

“P-p-please—” Slate Sheet trembled.

Avoiding the stream, Powder Burn rammed the pommel of his dagger up between Slate Sheet’s hind legs. The quaking pony collapsed with a squeal into the embrace of the noose, strangling once more as he tried to curl up and hold his dripping stallionhood.

“Down,” Powder Burn ordered, letting Slate Sheet collapse into his own puddle.

Again Slate Sheet was left gasping for precious oxygen as he held himself, shaking as he looked up to Powder Burn with wide eyes.

“You will be paid, if you answer truthfully,” Powder Burn snarled, letting the dagger spin in his magic, “You were boarded by an Equestrian vessel. Where were you? Why did they board you?”

“I-I was scavenging a wr-wreck,” Slate Sheet blurted out. He got three hooves under him, the fourth still clutching himself, and began to rise.

Powder Burn knocked his forehoof out from under him and pinned him to the ground, pressing his face close to the other pony’s, “No, you get to stay down, tell me from down there. What wreck?”

“S-some merchant vessel!” Slate Sheet whimpered, staying down like an obedient dog, “Th-the Majestic Pride! The one y-you sunk recently! I was scavenging a-and he came out of nowhere and said he was b-boarding my ship, th-that he had questions!”

“And you let him board you,” Powder Burn stated.

“He came out of nowhere!” Slate Sheet screeched, “I swear it! I-I tried to tell him off, but he threatened to attack if I didn’t let him aboard! I would...would’ve run but he was on me faster than I could’ve raised sail and anchor!”

“So you’re a shit captain with a shit crew on a shit ship,” Powder Burn growled, turning to Split Grain, “Up,” he said.

“No! Plea—” Slate Sheet choked as he was hoisted up again, kicking and thrashing, belly damp with his own fear.

“Down.”

“Please! Not again! Anything! I’ll tell you anything!” Slate Sheet sobbed and choked out, laying obediently in his puddle.

“So he boarded you, then what?” Powder Burn ordered.

“I-I led him to a side room where I had two of my colts waiting with bludgeons!” Slate Sheet blubbered as fast as he could, “I thought he was gonna search me and I was gonna knock him out and force them off!”

Powder Burn frowned, “And how the fuck was that supposed to work?”

“I don’t kno-o-o-o-w!” Slate Sheet wailed, “I don’t know, I don’t know, I panicked, it was my best option at the time!”

Powder Burn shook his head, snorting, “and after you fucked that up?”

“He nearly killed me with my own pistol! He thought you’d sent me to kill him! When I told him it wasn’t you, he wanted to know where he could find you!”

“And what did you say?” Powder Burn’s eyes narrowed, his dagger stopping with its point towards Slate Sheet.

“I-I said I thought you might be in Prance,” Slate Sheet replied, eyes darting between the dagger and its wielder, “in-in les Stables-d'Olonne.”

“And why there?” Powder Burn’s voice was ice, in spite of his burning eyes.

“I-I-it-it’s a p-pirate p-p-port,” Slate Sheet stumbled like a half-wit over his words. Powder Burn just stared fire down at him, “he had a pistol to my head!” Slate Sheet shrieked, “He said he’d shoot me if I lied to him!”

“A pistol to your head?” Powder Burn asked. His horn flared as he pulled a pistol from one of his pirates, pressing it right between Slate Sheet’s eyes, “He threatened to shoot you? Like this?”

Slate Sheet’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. His bladder managed another wave of urine, the warm liquid spilling out from beneath his prone form.

“He threatened to shoot you, did he?” Powder Burn continued, “threatened?” Powder Burn gave a short, sour laugh, “Colt, I will fucking shoot you if you give a Navy fuck an honest answer.”

“Please…” Slate Sheet whimpered.

*Boom* roared the pistol as Powder Burn raised it just enough.

Slate Sheet screamed, clutching his one-and-a-half ears. Blood ran quickly down the left side of his head, a good half of his ear torn off by the shot. He continued to cry out as Powder Burn passed the pistol back to its owner, then turned to Split Grain.

“Up, up, up,” he ordered. And Split Grain made it so.

His half ear was ignored as Slate Sheet was lifted above the ground once more, thrashing and kicking the air in a futile effort to escape. His forehooves scrambled against the rope, but found no purchase or knots to untie and free him.

His tongue lolled out, lapping at the air in an obscene attempt to breathe as he spat and gagged against the rope. His eyeballs rolled wildly, seeming likely to pop out of his skull as they bulged outwards.

The kicking slowed, his scrabbling hooves taking longer to claw at the noose. He wet himself again, just a trickle of terror that dripped down one leg that was suddenly only able to clench as he neared the end of his life.

“And down,” Powder Burn ordered.

Slate Sheet hit the ground like a stringless puppet, a long wheeze snaking down his throat and into his lungs. He coughed suddenly, then gasped in another wheeze.

Powder Burn nodded to Split Grain, who dropped the rope, and stepped up to Slate Sheet’s limp form. The limp pony didn’t have enough strength to even flinch as Powder Burn’s breath blew hotly into his good ear.

“Your payment is your life, keep it,” he whispered. Slate Sheet’s eyes rolled towards him, sides rising and falling as he wheezed in more air, “but the next time you help a Navy fuck...this was just foreplay, my little pony, remember that.”

And with that he strode away, his lackeys in tow.

09 - A Dish Best Served Cold

Waves crashed up upon the shore, worrying at the waiting longboat filled with sour-faced pirates of Vanilla Bonnet’s crew. Dawn’s sun hid behind a mountain to the East, casting the world in a bluish quasi-darkness.

In the sand stood Bonnet herself, flanked by two of her own. Frostbite and Broadhead stood before her with two others, a crate between the two parties.

“You will find it all there, rest assured, Captain Bonnet,” Frostbite gestured to the crate, “I will not be offended, should you wish to count—”

“I’ll count it,” Bonnet cut in, giving a jerk of her head to her two earth ponies, who hefted and carried the crate to Bonnet’s waiting longboat, “aboard my own vessel,” she smiled, “and if it just so happens that there aren’t fifteen hundred bits in there…”

Frostbite gave an annoyed snort, “I am a stallion of my word.”

“Of course you are,” Bonnet smiled, not unkindly, “You’ll have word from me by the end of the week. Until then, farewell.”

And with that she was gone, flitting to her longboat as it was cast off, oars paddling against the occasional wave towards the waiting Blackjack.

“Come, back to the ship,” Frostbite ordered, his unarmored Guards following.

“Orders?” Broadhead inquired. Even outside his armor he was a good hoof taller than his captain, his coat coarse and silver with a mane of copper.

“Take aboard what supplies we need and have us off at dusk. I will not wait here, if that is what she expects,” Frostbite ordered.

“We aren’t going to follow her?” Broadhead said more than he asked.

“No, that might spook her into breaking her bargain. We will head where the winds take us until she replies. Then we head in for the kill.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

Powder Burn sat brooding over his whetstone and dagger when the letter came by magic fire, popping into existence and dropping to the floor before him.

He scowled as he opened it, the elegant hoof-writing looking familiar. When he glanced at the bottom to discover the sender he gave a low growl.

Sincerely,

Captain Vanilla Bonnet

Reading over the letter did nothing to lighten the scowl he wore as he strode out and gave the command to change course.

“The nag wishes to meet us off some old isle,” he growled to Slow Match when asked, hoofing over the letter, “she makes no mention of any Navy ship.”

“You think it’s about that gold we owe her?” Slow Match asked as he read it over.

“More than likely, stupid cunt,” Powder Burn snarled, “It’s on our way to Prance, should be but a quick stop to tell her to fuck off about that debt.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

It only took three days for the message from Bonnet to arrive.

“That was quick,” Boardhead commented as he read it, “Do you think it’s a trap?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Frostbite replied, “She will want the rest of her payment I am sure. We will approach this island with caution,” he stabbed a hoof down on the charts before him, “it is high enough to hide a ship if you get the right angle, though the waters about it are filled with reefs, making approach difficult.”

“Good traits for a trap, I’d think,” Broadhead commented, “get us in where we can’t maneuver without hitting the reefs and strike us with cannon fire.”

Frostbite nodded, “Though a trap for who?” he looked up across the chart room’s table, “if she has gotten Powder Burn into the jaws of this trap, perhaps he is prey for us and not vice versa.”

“Scouts would be a good idea, find out if Powder Burn is indeed there. Approach from an angle that he can’t see us from until it’s too late,” Broadhead planned, getting a nod from Frostbite.

“His cannons have more range than our spells, but if he is stuck amidst a maze of reefs he will be a sitting duck. How long to reach this island from here?” Frostbite asked, looking about for measuring tools.

“No more than two days, I’d say, to get in range where we can deploy scouts,” Broadhead said, eyeing the map keenly.

Frostbite nodded after a few quick measurements, looking up to Broadhead with a smile, “let us serve out this cold dish and bring Powder Burn to justice, then.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Broadhead saluted.

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

Pushing hard, the Crown’s Judgement made it in just under two days, the island a mere speck on the horizon. The scouts returned with good news, sweeping so low over the water that they practically touched it.

“He’s there alright,” one of the scouts reported, “big old galleon with anchors dropped. He’s got tents set up on the beach, enough that I’d wager only a skeleton crew’s left aboard.”

“And any sign of Bonnet?” Frostbite inquired.

The scout shook his head, “No, captain. Unless she’s sunk, we’re the only two ships for the horizon around.”

“She’d said she’d be near,” Broadhead observed, “though she also said she’d give us word in a week.”

“We will keep an eye out,” Frostbite said, “but so far it would seem she has Powder Burn maneuvered into a perfect spot to kill,” he considered for a moment, then spoke, “at dusk we strike. Move in quickly and take him as the sun sets, before they can load cannons we will be aboard and in control. If Powder Burn is not aboard, we will strike the beach and move to the island.”

“To be safe, I can have a force field up as we move to attack his ship. Any cannons he can get off will do nothing as we advance.”

“Make it so, Lieutenant,” Frostbite nodded, “then rest up. I fear we will not be getting any sleep tonight!”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

The sun would aid them at their backs as the Crown’s Judgement slashed through the water towards the backside of the isle, a jut of rock drowned in palm trees and sand. The sails billowed, full and as taut as could be so they wouldn’t snap about and make noise.

A large group of ponies massed on the deck, spear-wielders and mages alike, prepared with an assortment of spells waiting at the ready.

They slowed just enough to begin maneuvering through the reefs about the island, coming around to make their final approach. No doubt the pirates would be drinking themselves to sleep, lighting up bonfires on the shore that would do nothing but blind them until it was too late.

Then the Sacrilegious Saint came into view. She was a modified galleon, sharper of prow and swifter with three great masts sprouting naked of sails from the deck. They had caught her with her pants down indeed.

“Shall we call for their surrender?” Broadhead asked.

Frostbite shook his head, “No, up with the force field, casters fire at will when we get in range.”

Faster than he’d thought, the enemy ship began to turn towards them using her anchor chains. One chain grew loose as the other went taut, turning the large ship around to show its broadside to them.

But even if she were able to load up any cannons, nothing short of a full barrage would be able to break up the shimmering wall of magic before them. The beach to their broadside was suddenly full of pirates, caught with their pants down as they’d prepared for sleep.

The trap was sprung.

Tents fell across the beach in something close to unison, revealing the black iron and wooden cradles of what looked like a full broadside of cannons. In an instant they roared to life, a rapid fire *BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.*

The shots flew across the water, many hitting water, far more hitting their mark with the smash and crunch of impact.

“Guns on the beach!” somepony cried out, too late.

Two shots pummeled into the upper deck, blasting great clouds of splinters into the Guards. Some of the closer ones went down, crying out. In the sudden chaos, the force field flickered as those holding it up were forced to redouble their efforts as their comrades went down.

“What on earth!?” Broadhead yelled.

“Status report! Keep that force field up!” Frostbite called over the cries, “get the injured below and—”

Then the Sacrilegious Saint herself opened up with another blast of broadside fire, more accurate than the shots on the beach had been. The first few shots ricocheted off the force field, but the next ones smashed right through it and tore into the Crown’s Judgement.

Frostbite threw up a shield of ice in front of him, many others doing the same with fire and frost spells alike. Others ate splinters and chunks of pulverized wood that smashed through their personal shields and knocked them off their hooves.

“They’re shooting at us from two sides!” one pony screamed.

“What do we do!?”

“Fire!”

“We’re not in range!”

“Full ahead!” Frostbite yelled above the din, gritting his teeth. Had Bonnet betrayed him? Had Powder Burn known he was coming, gleaned the information somehow? “helm! Correct course! Put us between them and the shore!” A series of ‘Aye aye, captain’s went up, “They are reloading, get our injured below and get that field back up! Casters, open fire!” Even if they weren’t in range, dropping spells on the pirate’s heads would hopefully suppress them and keep their heads down, “Give me a status report on our ship! Damage to hull!?” An upwards glance told him that none of the shots had hit the masts, though the sails had a few newfound holes.

The air between the ships and the shore filled with magic, most of the shots falling short. The more seriously wounded were dragged below, Frostbite was thankful none of their wounds appeared mortal. The Crown’s Judgement turned hard to one side, coming up towards the rear of the Sacrilegious Saint. Even if the other ship did turn, the cannons on the shore wouldn’t be able to hit him there.

Many of the magical shots began to strike the other ship as she drew nearer and nearer. Another blast of cannons roared from the beach, but Frostbite had expected it and a full force field to their starboard side deflected the ones that would have otherwise hit.

“Field forwards!” Frostbite called, though the next volley from the pirate’s ship went wide, she was unable to turn fast enough to keep up with Frostbite’s approach, “Prepare to board!” he called. With as many ponies as he had on shore, Frostbite doubted the pirate would be able to fend off so great an attack to his weakened ship, he smiled, tasting victory in the air.

Pirate heads appeared over the aftcastle of the pirate’s vessel, lobbing explosives, spells, and shots from rifles and pistols. The force field held against them as Frostbite’s own ponies fired back tenfold what they received in spells. The heads quickly ducked back.

“Get ramps and board!” Frostbite cried out, the first to charge across and onto the now deserted aftcastle of the Sacrilegious Saint.

As his hooves touched down an inferno blasted up around Frostbite, roiling walls of flame boxing him in. Cries of surprise came from his own ship, none of the others making it aboard. He immediately cast a frosty cloak around himself, the chill acting like a shield against the heat of the flames. He squinted as he charged back the way he’d come, he needed to get more of his own aboard.

But as he reached it, a ball of flame leapt from the wall, smashing across his face and puttering out against his frost cloak. He blinked, stumbling back a few steps as he tried to get his eyes to adjust.

“Royal Guard!” a gruff voice snarled from behind him, “You’re the one with balls enough to challenge me!”

Frostbite pivoted where he stood, a feral snarl etched across his face as he met the eyes of the pony he’d sworn vengeance upon.

“Powder Burn,” Frostbite spat.

“Aye, and you’re Frost—” Powder Burn was cut off as Frostbite hurled a trio of glistening ice spikes at the pirate’s face. A wall of fire leapt from the deck, cold water splashing across Powder Burn’s face. He roared a challenge, charging as he launched a stream of fire at Frostbite, stabbing forth with his knife.

Frostbite knocked the jab aside with an armored hoof, draining the heat from the air around his front so that the firesteam choked and sputtered before him, unable to harm him. He leapt and rolled to one side, letting Powder Burn charge past as he fired a series of icy blasts at the pirate, using the cold he’d drained from the air as fuel.

The attacks melted as they pelted Powder Burn’s face, forcing him only to blink cool water from his eyes as he thrust forth his dagger again. The weapon danced around Frostbite’s hoof as he tried to knock it away, jabbing at his belly and ricocheting off Frostbite’s blue forcefield.

Frostbite lunged forwards, smashing a hoof into Powder Burn’s face as the dagger tried to follow him. The weapon clattered to the deck as Frostbite fired a stream of frigid air and frozen particles at Powder Burn’s face. He kicked the weapon away as he kept up the cold attack, forcing Powder Burn back as he conjured up a few more icy spikes.

Lunging to the side, Powder Burn checked Frostbite with another snarl, knocking the Guard back as his shield flared up brightly. Frostbite rolled with the attack, flinging his icy weapons at Powder Burn as he hopped back to his hooves. The icy weapons stuck true, biting into Powder Burn’s hide and drawing blood before his own heat cloak melted them.

Growling, Powder Burn forced another eruption of flame from his horn as he dug two small grenades from his hammerspace. Frostbite began to counter the firestream as Powder Burn launched the twin black orbs directly into the stream. They detonated in unison right in front of Frostbite before he could knock them away.

Frostbite’s shield, finally overcharged, shattered like glass as his ears were filled with a steady, nauseating whine. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, scrambling back. Powder Burn whirled about, bucking out with his hind hooves at Frostbite’s face.

Frostbite reared up, grabbing the bucking hooves and wrenching Powder Burn off balance before stumbling back himself.

“You’re better than that last one!” Powder Burn snarled with a grin, horn glowing at the ready, “He hardly lasted half this long!”

Frostbite hesitated, still recovering from the explosives. A line of blood trickled down from one ear as he selected and charged his own spell.

“Let’s see if you’ve got double the guts he had!” the pirate snarled.

Only Frostbite’s peripherals and reflexes saved him from the dagger that flew in from his side. He dropped one side, letting the weapon clang off his armor as he fired an icy blast that caught the pirate on the horn.

powder Burn gasped, surprised by the attack. His magic faltered, the dagger dropped as he stumbled back a few steps, holding a hoof to his head. The pirate’s magic flared, and Frostbite felt his icy creation melting. He fed it more magical energy, grabbing the dagger in a hoof.

Powder Burn faltered, the wall of flame about him dropping enough to see what was going on elsewhere on the deck. He ignored it, all his rage-fueled magic directed at keeping Powder Burn’s horn on ice.

He put every last ounce of willpower into his attack, fueling it with his rage. His rage at the trap he’d fallen into and that for the death of his brother-in-law at the hands of this pirate. The ice hissed as he began to approach, horn down and dagger in hoof. Rage blinded him to all else but the pirate as he closed in, the other struggling to melt the ice around his horn. But for every extra ounce of heat the pirate made, Frostbite countered with a pound of cold.

He brought the dagger to his mouth, the leather grip foul against his tongue as he advanced, pouring more and more magic into the attack until it felt as if his horn would explode.

“Enough!” the word cut through everything as Powder Burn seemed to literally explode, a blast of heat throwing Frostbite away. He hit the deck with a thud, dagger clattering away. But he threw himself up, running on his fury, right into a stream of white-hot flame.

Frostbite barely had enough time to throw a frost shield up around himself, protecting him from most of the heat. Surprise killed the rage inside of him, the sudden nagging tiredness of magical fatigue making itself known.

‘He could not have just brushed that off like he did!’ Frostbite thought, squinting against the blaze berating him as he leapt to one side. But the deafening whoosh of flames followed, the heat growing and growing in spite of his frost shield.

He stumbled away, trying to find some piece of cover. His butt hit the railing, and he considered hopping away into the water. Had he jumped without hesitation, he would have made it.

The knife drove up into his gut like a fiery punch, forcing a cry from his lips. His magic faltered, but a burning hot hoof was all that hit him as his frost shield faltered. He hit the deck, stunned, and the knife pulled free, a fast gush of blood following it out.

“Fucking scum!” Powder Burn roared.

Frostbite looked up, startling at the sight. Powder Burn’s body wavered in waves of heat, eyes blazing white and mane waving madly like some demonic black fire from hell itself. The heat scorched Frostbite from a mere yard away, the charred remains of the pirate’s clothes drifting off him in a trail of ash.

‘He rage shifted!’ Frostbite thought, alarmed and in pain with the stab in his gut. Emotions tied into spellcasting, and if powerful enough they could cause a pony to have tremendously more powerful abilities. If a pony grew so upset that their rage blotted out all else, as Frostbite had nearly done, they could ‘rage shift’ and, if for only a short time, become like gods.

“Die!” Powder Burn screamed, hell itself descending down on Frostbite. In an instant he was shredded apart on a molecular level...and with a pop of teleportation magic, he was reassembled on the deck of the Crown’s Judgement. A great red pool began to stain the deck beneath him. He rolled onto his side, pressing his hooves to the wound as he grit his teeth against the pain.

“Captain!” Broadhead was above him, “We’re taking on water, we need to retreat!”

Frostbite coughed, and blood splattered the cool deck beneath him. After the inferno he’d just faced, the warm wood was like ice to his coat.

“Medic!” Broadhead roared, “Captain’s been stabbed!”

“No! He rage shifted! Once he snaps out of it he will be in no condition to fight!” Frostbite declared as a medic rushed to him with bandages in hoof, “Turn us around! We attack again!” Yet nopony moved, “That was an order! Lieutenant Broadhead—”

“Captain, you’re in no fit shape to command this vessel,” Broadhead said as the medical pony wrapped him in bandages, “Until such a time as you’ve healed, I’m taking command of the Crown’s Judgement.”

“Damnit, Lieutenant! We can finish this now!” Frostbite snarled, “I nearly had him as it was, if we get more of our own on board—”

“We won’t have a ship to return to!” Broadhead snapped back, “We’re sinking! We need all hooves at the pumps and medical stations or else we’re going to lose the Judgement! I’m not letting you emulate your brother-in-law! There are greater things at stake here than vengeance and until those things are taken care of—”

“Sails!” came a cry from above.

Frostbite’s first instinct was to look back the way they’d come, but the Sacrilegious Saint sat where she was, sails furled up against their yardarms. Longboats were being readied at the shore, no doubt she would follow soon.

“Northeast of us,” Broadhead clarified, looking through his spyglass. Frostbite tried to get to his hooves, but the medic pressed him back down.

“Sir, please stay down! We’re getting you a stretcher to take you back to your room for further treatment.”

“Two masts, brigantine rigging,” Broadhead said, turning back to Frostbite with a concerned look, “Captain Bonnet, no doubt.”

“I do not doubt she had something to do with this,” Frostbite growled. A stretcher was finally brought out by two ponies and he was loaded on, unhappily, “keep us away from her, with force if needed.”

“We can’t outrun her,” Broadhead said, following as he was carted away to his room, “too many injured or at the pumps. We’ll be able to keep ahead of her, but I’d wager she can overtake us if she wants to.”

“Do everything you can to stop her, if she so much as shows us her broadside...”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that,” Broadhead replied, “get some rest, captain.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

Frostbite got little rest. Pain made him squirm about once his adrenaline faded, leaving him feeling badly sunburnt and with a sharp pain in his gut. The medic had soothed him as much as possible, but using magic for a wound to internal organs was no easy task, he would have to let the injury heal on its own.

He was nearly asleep when another knock came from his door.

“Enter,” he growled, the medic had only left a minute ago…

“Captain Frostbite,” Vanilla Bonnet greeted as she strode in, two ponies at her sides. All that stayed his wrath was the fact that the ponies flanking her were his own Guards, “I’ve been told you took a wound.”

“She came aboard via longboat, and requested permission to speak with you—” said one of the Guards.

“Alone,” Bonnet cut in, “and don’t worry, my ship is out of range of your own, I’ve no interest in finishing what Captain Powder Burn started.”

“Then what do you want?” Frostbite demanded.

“A word,” she glanced to his Guards, “alone.”

“You’ve stripped her of weapons?” Frostbite asked the Guards.

“And my armor, as you can clearly see,” Bonnet spoke up for them, grinning at him in bed. The Guards nodded in unison when Frostbite looked to them.

“Fine, leave us, wait outside the door,” Frostbite said, waving them off, ‘there’s nothing she can do that won’t end with her in chains.’

“I recall you said you were a married stallion, yet here I find myself stripped naked by your lackies and you in bed awaiting me,” Bonnet grinned a sultry grin when the Guards had left.

‘She’s comely enough...’ a part of his mind said, but he locked that part of his mind away, “If all you came here for was mockery—”

“Not mockery, money,” Bonnet cut curtly in, trotting about the room with a bored look, “the rest of my four thousand?”

“You’ll get it when I get Powder Burn,” Frostbite replied, forcing himself to sit up, the pain in his gut making him grimace.

“Captain Powder Burn,” she corrected as she poked at a bookshelf, “and, as I recall, my part of the bargain was to get you to said captain. It’s hardly my fault if you can’t handle him.”

“He was waiting for us!” Frostbite snapped, letting the accusation hang silently in the air.

“So he’s paranoid,” Bonnet scoffed, growing tired of the books and heading to a window. Black night poured in through it, the sea glowing with the reflections of the stars, “perhaps whoever told you where to find me was in league with Captain Powder Burn,” she shrugged as she cast him a look over her shoulders, “Who knows? You owe me.”

“I don’t have it,” Frostbite gritted his teeth, “and even if I did—”

“Oh, I know,” Bonnet threw open the window, “your second in command told me that much.”

“Then why—” Frostbite began, frowning.

She was on him in an instant, a flash of feathers moving faster than he could have yelled out. Her forehooves pressed into his throat, silencing his cry as one of her hinds rammed down hard between his legs. He choked, tasting bile as the pain nearly put him under. His horn ignited on instinct, but a hoof to the head fizzled it out.

His covers were drawn around him, stuffed into his mouth to quiet his cries. Then suddenly he was falling, the night air cool even through the blankets. He never touched the water, head impacting against wood, and then darkness.

Author's Note

Whew, one more chapter left after this one. Finally I can get this finished and get back to working on stuff people don’t hate so much. Yay!

10 - Tying up Loose Ends

When Captain Frostbite awoke it was with a sharp pain in his skull, his gut, and his groin. He wasn’t sure if it was a second horn or a lump on his head, but from the pain alone he assumed it was the latter.

He peered around in confusion, dizzy, and with a roiling feeling in his gut as if he might lose the contents of his stomach at a wrong move. Heavy chains rattled as he tried to get his hooves under him, independent of the chains they didn’t seem to want to cooperate.

The stench of manure and urine and rot filled his nostrils, gagging him. All around boards creaked and groaned, the rolling deck beneath him feeling natural to his sea legs.

‘Where—’ he began to wonder, but thinking hurt his head.

After a time he noticed the bars before him, mostly rust with specks of metal peeking through. He tried to crawl towards them, but the chains rattled at him and brought him back down. Stars danced before him as he slumped back to the floor and he curled up into a ball and wished the pain away for what seemed to be half an eternity.

He came back from a half-consciousness to the feeling of something gnawing at his belly. He opened his eyes to spy a long and black shape wiggling its way from his stomach. He jerked in surprise, and the rat rushed away with a squeak.

Something was wrong, he knew suddenly, he shouldn’t be here. He tugged at his manacled limbs, but the chains just laughed mercilessly back at him. Moving made him dizzy, so he lay on his side, grimacing at the chains as he cast an...he cast...cast! What was wrong with his horn!? An icy ring greeted him as he reached up to prod it, something preventing him from casting his magic.

A trickle of warmth flowed across his belly and at first he thought he’d wet himself, but it was the stench of copper, not ammonia, that greeted his nostrils. A glance confirmed it, the wound in his belly...his belly...when had he been stabbed? Who had—

“Medic! Captain’s been stabbed!” Broadhead yelled in his ear, making him flinch and jerk about.

“Lieutenant?” he asked, “Lieutenant!” he called out, stumbling to his hooves.

“Captain! We’re taking on water, we need to retreat!”

“From what!?” Frostbite yelled back, his head throbbing, “Who gave that order! What? Who!”

He flinched as the teleportation spell threw him in front of the angry god of hell, his mane whipping above him like a livid, black inferno.

“Die!” the god screamed down at him, “Fucking scum!” as he struck him and pulled the blade—

“Powder Burn!” Frostbite gasped, reeling back as if struck, “He...but...what...I...”

“Two masts, brigantine rigging,” that had been Broadhead, “We can’t outrun her...get some rest, captain.”

A knock echoed through the walls of his mind, making him jump, looking around warily. This wasn’t his ship, that much he knew, but if not his…

“Captain Frostbite. I’ve been told you took a wound.”

He pressed a hoof to his belly, the pain of it feeling like a weight trying to pull his guts out. Powder Burn had put the knife in him, but he’d escaped…

“Oh, I know. Your second in command told me that much,” and she was atop him, her weight pressing down into him as she’d reached down with a hind leg to stroke his arousal...but pain exploded up between his legs and...and...he knew nothing else.

“She...captured me?” Frostbite wondered aloud, then, “she captured me!”

He glared around. Through his haze and a sprinkling of stars he saw a brig, the dark shapes of rats scurrying about, a few large cells, one of them holding him, one empty, and another one with a pile of bones. It was nearly pitch black, a lonely lantern with but a dot of blue flame.

He glanced down at himself, spying a spot of blood dripping from a portion of his stitches that had come undone. He tried to grab at the loose ends with his magic before he remembered the nullifying ring around his horn.

A rusty hinge shrieked like a banshee, and light rushed in to blind him. He jerked away and covered his eyes with a hoof squinting at the sounds of approaching hooves. He squinted out over his forelimb as a series of hoofsteps halted before his cell. Four ponies, and he knew two of them.

“I told you he’d wake up,” Vanilla Bonnet said, “probably just a concussion.”

Powder Burn growled, a series of keys jangling on a loop held in his crimson magic.

“You betrayed me,” Frostbite growled at her, “I would have paid you.”

“With what?” Bonnet inquired, nothing about her smiling today, “you didn’t have four thousand bits.”

“We would have gotten it to you after he had been dealt with.”

Bonnet shrugged, “Tell me this: how insulted would you feel if I came to you offering to pay off some debt if you brought me one of your colleagues?” Frostbite said nothing, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“It’s not the same,” Frostbite snapped.

“It’s not?” Bonnet looked surprised, turning to Powder Burn, “is that true?”

Powder Burn growled out something unintelligible, not looking at the other pirate.

“Probably better I didn’t understand that anyways,” Bonnet gave a wing-shrug, turning back to Frostbite.

“Enough,” Powder Burn grumbled, finding his key and jabbing it into the lock, “Up.”

Frostbite frowned, but it only took a second for him to realize Powder Burn had been talking to the ponies behind him. His world spun and exploded with stars as the chains went taut, hoisting him up to dangle above the ground by his forelimbs.

Nails screeched over chalkboard as the door to his own cell opened. Bonnet flinched, ears flattening against her head as she sent a glare at Powder Burn.

“Do you deliberately not maintain this place?” Bonnet asked, “It smells rank, everything’s rusted to hell, it’s almost as if you never use this...oh, wait, of course you never use your brig.”

“Shut-up,” Powder Burn growled at the quip, approaching Frostbite and give him a good look, grinning viley, “You may go,” he ordered, and his own pirates left. He gave Bonnet a curdling look, but she made no move to leave.

“If you expect me—” Frostbite began.

Powder Burn silenced him with a punch to the gut that made him want to fold up, but the chains laughed at his agony.

“I expect you to die, slowly,” Powder Burn grumbled, “like the rest of your fucking civilization.”

“What did...” Frostbite gave a groan, wishing he could fold up and hold his aching gut, “Civilization ever do to you?”

“What’d civilization do to me?” Powder Burn asked with a chuckle, shaking his head with the laugh. He followed up with another jab to Frostbite’s gut, the Royal Guard grunting in pain, “I don’t drink,” Powder Burn began, dusting off his hoof on his shirt, “Drink lowers inhibitions and lowered inhibitions make you do crazy things,” Frostbite watched Powder Burn though star-splattered eyes, thankful that the beating had seemed to cease...for now.

“Makes you do crazy fucking things,” Powder Burn spat at the Guard, face taking on a darker edge, eyes blazing with fire that seemed to cook Frostbite’s very soul, “Makes you more courageous in most cases, for…” Powder Burn paused, struggling with something for a second, “for better or for worse.

“Now, what do you do with this newfound courage, hm?” Powder Burn asked, eyes not leaving Frostbite as he began to slowly circle the Guard, “Maybe it finally pushes you over the edge! Lets you push…yourself over the edge.”

Silence filled the room as Powder Burn grew still, behind Frostbite where the hanging pony couldn’t see him. Frostbite grew tense, was this where the killing blow finally came?

“I had a wife once. We had a...a nice little cottage in Stalliongrad,” Powder Burn chuckled, resuming his slow circle, “Bet you didn’t know that, did you? I’m from Stalliongrad, born and raised, but that’s getting side-tracked. My wife and I and our...our,” Powder Burn threw his eyes to the far wall, away from Frostbite, “two kids.”

Powder Burn grew quiet once more, continuing to watch the wall until he was in another of Frostbite’s blind spots, his sides shuddering with something far from laughter.

“They slandered her name, fucking locals. Slandered her name with unjust words! Whore! Adulterer! Fornicator! She wasn’t!” he yelled the last two words with something akin to a choked sob, “But they called her that anyways, fucking pigs!”

Stars exploded across Frostbite’s vision as Powder Burn struck him in the back of his head, the Guard’s eyes swirling about in blurred dizziness. Powder Burn began to come around again, furious eyes now damp and set on the floor.

“She couldn’t take it...she took to drinking, bringing us back to where we began, the two of us and this conversation. It only made things…worse. She became constantly drunken and angry, she scared the kids and I. They asked about her, you know? Why was...was mommy acting this way?” he choked back another sob with a sniffle, wiping his wet nose, “I had to quit my job at the docks to stay home and keep her from hurting anyone, hurting herself...I...I never thought she was actually capable of…doing it, but...

“But I had to leave sometime, buy food with our dwindling coins, firewood for the harshening winter,” he grew silent and still once more, almost outside of Frostbite’s peripherals, “And that’s when she did it,” his body was wracked by another fit of shuddering, “Our cottage, our beautiful little cottage, had this perfect view of the northern seas off the edge of a...cliff.

“She took both of them and waited for me to return. I knew it then, saw it in her eyes, saw the fear in the eyes of our kids,” Powder Burn turned and stood right in front of Frostbite, his body shaking, “She jumped...with them,” a hate filled snarl split Powder Burn’s features, his body quivering with pure rage as the room suddenly rose a few degrees. His breath came out raggedly as that hellish, soul-tearing fire burned in his eyes, “She fucking jumped with them!!” Powder Burn all but screamed into Frostbite’s face, spit splattering the Guard’s wincing features.

The two remained there for a time. The rage slowly dwindled from Powder Burn’s face, the room losing its heightened temperatures.

“Civilization,” Powder Burn sounded out, stoic and calm again except for his bloodshot eyes, “the root being civil, to call it such a thing. It sickens me.

“I killed every. Last. Fucker in that town, burned them to the ground in their homes with their screaming wives and their screaming children. And I will continue to do so until there is no more civilization.”

“But enough of that, now we get to move on to the three G’s,” Powder Burn let a mirthless smile crease his features as he drew his knife. Despite himself, Frostbite gave a gulp of fright, “They are, in order: Gelding, Gouging, and Gutting,” Frostbite grabbed Frostbite’s hanging balls with a hoof, pulling them taught to a wince from the suddenly weary Guard, “Geld you, gouge your eyes out, and gut you like the fucking animal that you and your fucking kind are,” Powder Burn growled, bringing his knife to the base of Frostbite’s…

“Give him to me,” Bonnet said suddenly, halting Powder Burn, “and I’ll consider your debt repaid.”

“What?” Powder Burn asked, turning, Frostbite looking at her too.

“C’mon, what’d I say, numbnuts? Turn him over to me, as is,” she glanced to Frostbite’s threatened anatomy, “and I’ll consider the money you owe me repaid in full.”

“Huh,” Powder Burn replied, not releasing Frostbite’s packaging, “And what’s the catch?”

“The catch?” Bonnet inquired, mock-taken aback, “Well, the catch is that if you do any more damage and-or don’t give him to me, you’ll still owe me a considerable sum in gold. Your choice, Captain, simple as that. I gave him to you as a gift, I believe I have every right to take back this gift. You getting your debt repaid is just the cherry on top.”

Powder Burn threw a calculating look to Frostbite, eyeing him for a moment, “And why?” Powder Burn finally asked, releasing Frostbite’s family jewels—to which the pony gave a silent sigh of relief—and turning to Bonnet, “You decide to sic him on me for real and I’ll carve up your precious little cunt and feed it to—”

“Oh, please,” Bonnet interrupted with a roll of her eyes, “I’d hardly need him to get rid of you, assuming that I wanted to in the first place. You’re not going to pay me back anytime soon and I’d wager I could get a decent bit of ransom money for his sorry self. Maybe not as much as you owe me, but it’s a start. Deal or no deal?”

Powder Burn looked over the beaten and battered Guard with hate and scorn, but finally turned to Bonnet, “Deal,” he said, sheathing his knife and making his way out of the room, “Our debt is repaid, Captain Bonnet. I assume you can find your way out.”

Bonnet waited until he was gone before pulling the keys from the door and eyeing over them. All was quiet but for the tinkle of metal as Bonnet went through them.

Frostbite kept his mouth shut, eyeing the mare up and down. Was this true, or just a trick to get his hopes up? Was Powder Burn just waiting behind the door with a pistol, ready to put a bullet in the back of his skull?

“It’s a long way back to Equestria,” Bonnet suddenly said, approaching with a key. Frostbite flinched as she unlocked his manacles, letting him thump to the ground before her, “if you behave yourself I might even let you keep a hammock in my brig.”

“You...are returning me to Equestria?” Frostbite asked guardedly, rubbing his sore hooves. He eyed Bonnet’s armor and weapons, rethinking any ideas of retaliation.

“Ransoming is the correct term,” Bonnet smiled back at him, “maybe I’ll get the rest of my pay from Equestria for your safe return. Now come along and be a good prisoner,” she led him out, his hooves finding it hard to stay under him.

Pirates spat sour looks at them as she paraded him up through the bowels of the Sacrilegious Saint, but Bonnet ignored them all. Up to the deck and over the side they went, Frostbite needing help to get down the line to a waiting longboat.

Dawn had come, Celestia’s sun rising high into the sky. The Sacrilegious Saint and the Blackjack bobbed side by side in the water, a good few ship lengths apart. The island was nowhere to be seen, and nor was the Crown’s Judgement. Bonnet’s pirates eyed him warily as they rowed, their weapons all within easy reach. The only one who seemed at ease with him being Bonnet herself.

“What happened to my ship?” Frostbite asked, uncertain he wanted to know.

“She followed us for a time, but we lost her just before midnight and haven’t seen her since. You can let them know of your good fortune once we get aboard the Blackjack. Perhaps she can act as our neutral ground,” Bonnet explained, frowning as she spotted the blood leaking from his stitches.

He flinched as he wings came towards him, leaning away as best he could, but after some prodding she procured needle and thread of her own, tying up the loose ends.

“I’m not going to rape you,” she chastised, pulling away and getting a few chuckles from her rowing pirates.

“Why?” Frostbite asked suddenly.

Bonnet gave him an odd look, “Um...do you want me to rape you?”

“No, why give me to Powder Burn only to take me back and ransom me?” he asked.

Bonnet shrugged, “I wanted to let him rough you up a bit, the story was a nice touch too, I almost shed a tear,” she snorted, “plus, I needed an excuse to get his debt repaid, he was never going to pay it anyways.

“Besides that, you couldn’t owe me a debt if he’d gelded, gouged, and gutted you, but now you do.”

“I owe you nothing,” Frostbite replied.

“Really? Perhaps I should give you back to Captain Powder Burn, then, shall I?” Bonnet gestured and the boat came to a halt in the water.

Frostbite growled unhappily, rubbing his sore head, “What more than my ransom could you want?”

“A favor,” she said.

“What favor?” Frostbite asked.

Bonnet smiled, “When the time comes, I’ll ask for it,” she turned as the rowers stopped, spying her ship as they threw down a rope, “Now, come along, your ransom awaits.”

01 - A Message in Magic

Author's Note

Note: the stuff pertaining to the dark tag, sex, and gore doesn't pick up until later chapters so don't be put off by the fact that there isn't any yet, it'll be here soon enough!

01 - A Message in Magic

Light brimming with morning’s sunshine fell across a chilly blue unicorn as it shone through a bedroom window. As if on cue with the light, the unicorn awoke, blinking sleepy eyes through his messy three-tone icey mane.

He yawned once, looking about as the sleepiness left his sea-blue eyes.

He pulled the thick bedsheets off of himself, a quiet, sleepy mumble coming from beside him. He paused, smiling down at the sleeping form of a unicorn mare laying beside him. Her coat was a tomato-red color, her mane crimson. A few white dimples dotted her serene, sleeping face.

Slowly and methodically, lest he shift the bed harshly and wake her, he leaned in close and planted a small kiss on her cheek.

That accomplished, he gently slid off the bed, recovering his partner in blankets before a silent set of stretching.

He turned to the window, trotting over as quietly as he could and pushing it open with his magic.

A moderate breeze blew at his face, tossing his mane about. Muffled cries of gulls met his erect ears, the salty smell of the sea greeting his sniffing nostrils.

“Morning already, Frostbite?” a tired voice asked from his back.

“Only for me, Purée, dear,” Frostbite turned around to find his wife, Purée, awake, rubbing mustard eyes filled with sleep. He approached the bed and hopped back in next to her, “You and the little one need not follow my regimen.”

The two shared a kiss and smiles, Frostbite turning bright eyes to her swollen belly.

“And speaking of our little one; how are you feeling?” he asked, giving her belly a gentle rub.

“A little sick,” Purée replied, eyes following his hoof’s soft movements, “I keep getting that craving for one of my mother’s more fancy dishes,” she giggled, eyes turning to his lovingly, “Goddess knows I can’t have any of that, though.”

“Well I find myself craving you every moment I am away,” Frostbite smiled, “so perhaps you can feel better knowing that you are not alone.”

“Oh, you!” Purée exclaimed, smiling happily as she leaned towards him.

The two met in another loving kiss. Their warm lips brushed up against each-other’s as both leaned towards the other. They parted somewhat reluctantly.

“Are you sure you can’t stay and cuddle a while longer?” she asked.

“I cannot, in good conscience, demand that the other colts show up bright and early and not do so myself, dear,” Frostbite said, with a short sigh, moving off the bed once more and trotting over to a closet at the far end of the room.

“Then let them stay in an extra ten minutes,” Purée suggested from the bed as Frostbite pulled the closet open with his magic.

A glimmering set of golden Royal Guard armor greeted Frostbite from the closet’s interior. It was the same in all regards to a normal set besides having a crest the same color as his mane instead of the standard royal blue. He proceeded to lift it towards him with his magic.

“I would love to, dear, but...” Frostbite trailed off, strapping the armor into place. There was a brief, navy blue glimmer as the armor’s magical shielding activated. His armor in place, his coat morphed to a white shade, though his eyes and mane remained as they were.

“But you’re a captain, now, dear,” Purée put in, hopping off the bed herself and making her way over to him. She rightened and tightened a few loose and off-center pieces as she spoke, “Can’t you cut back a little now that you’ve got more authority? I don’t see why the head of his own ship can’t give everyone a bit of a late start.”

Frostbite gave a sigh, “I could...But if I do not hold everyone to their highest standards then they will risk falling far below their worst standards,” he turned and gave her a quick kiss on the lips, “and that is something I cannot have. Ponies do not say I run the tightest ship of the Equestrian Navy’s fleet for nothing.”

“No, I suppose they don’t,” Purée replied with an unhappy sigh of her own. She trotted back to bed, Frostbite helping her up onto it before slipping his helmet on, the final piece of his armor. Purée smiled at him from the bed, “You always look so dashing in your armor, dear.”

“Really?” Frostbite smiled, striking an exaggerated, noble pose.

Purée gave a quick giggle at his display, “Really,” she assured him. Her features turned serious once more, “Do be careful, dear. Try not to do anything foalish.”

“I will keep you close to my heart to remind me,” Frostbite assured her with a smile. His horn lit up, a small picture of the two of them rising from one side of his chestplate before being tucked back away.

“Aww, you,” Purée cooed, leaning forwards for one last kiss. Frostbite obliged, leaning in close. Their lips met in a warm embrace once more as Frostbite lifted a hoof, caressing her mane gently before pulling away.

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

The cobblestone streets of Baltimare were busy as ever with peddlers, merchants, and shoppers alike. They all shouted, bartered, and chatted to the smells of fresh foods and exotic spices from far and wide.

By this time the cries and calls mixed with a dull crash of waves and the salty smell of the sea

“Hot potato! Hot potato! Get ‘em while they’re hot!” one vendor ranted.

“Tabriz rugs for sale! The finest from Saddle Arabia that you shall ever see!” a larger Saddle Arabian called from his stand.

“The finest jewelry you’ll ever lay eyes on! Guarenteed!” another voice cried above the noise.

“Fresh foods!? Exotic ingredients!? I have them all!” another salespony proclaimed.

He continued onwards, the cries of the many merchants fazing him no more than that of the gulls.

Onwards he went, the streets sloping downwards and the sounds and smells of the sea growing as he drew nearer its level. The crashing of waves against the shores and docks, the heavily salted smell of the sea.

Passing a final throng of buildings, the landscape opened up into the great expanse of water filling Horseshoe bay. Nearly two hundred miles across, the bay was habited by many ships of all makes and sizes.

But he had eyes for only one in particular: the Crown’s Judgement.

She was a three-masted square rigger frigate. Built like a clipper, with a sharp prow and elongated hull, she was built with speed in mind. Even from a distance he could spot that she bore no cannon, instead relying on combatative magic casters for battle. Overall it made her a much faster vessel without the weight of any guns, though did hamper her range.

And she was his.

“Captain on deck!” a cry went up as he made his way up the gangplank to the docked vessel. In an instant those on deck, sailors and Guardsponies alike, turned with military precision and saluted their captain.

“As you were!” Frostbite called out with a powerful voice, allowing the small number about on deck to go back to their duties. He approached one of the Guards posted on watch, “How fares the morning, Private?”

“Fine and quiet, sir, as always,” the Guard replied with a glance to his superior, “I saw Lieutenant Broadhead come aboard a couple minutes ago, probably went to go get some grub, Lieutenant Wind Breaker hasn’t come by yet, though.”

“Hm,” Frostbite said with a scowl, eyeing the skies above, “Good report, private, make sure you get in some grub and rest when your relief gets here.”

“Will do, s—”

“I ain’t through with you yet, you gelding bastard!” a harsh cry came from the docks below, drawing the eyes of both ponies downwards.

A helmetless pegasus Guard was on the run from an angry looking pegasus mare with what was likely the Guard’s helmet in hoof. The two zipped down the docks, the ground-bound ponies on it quickly making way for the speeding pair.

“Oi! I’m tellin ya! I said I was sorry, ya damn cow!” the Guard, quickly identified as Wind Breaker to Frostbite via an enchantment in his armor, spat back. He continued a short ways past the gangplank before coming to a halt and turning.

“You said you were gonna pull out, you shit-eating mule!” the mare screeched back, pointing at him with his helmet as she continued to hover in the air, glaring daggers at him, “That was the deal for going in without protection!”

“An I’m sorry, I made a mistake, okay? Happens to the best of us every now an again,” Breaker replied, taking a tentative step forwards, “Now can ya please gimme my helmet back?”

“You better pray that I’m far enough off my cycle, you pig, or you’ll be hearing from me soon enough! Got it!?” she yelled back.

“Okay, okay! Got it, missy, I’m sorry!” Breaker said, “The helmet now, if ya will?”

The mare, still glowing and furious paused where she hovered, glancing at the helmet. Her eyes darted to the water as if she considered tossing the helmet there, but she threw the helmet at the Guard. He gave a yelp, barely catching it before it struck him.

“You ever do that to me again, to anypony I know, and you won’t need to worry about pulling it out,” she growled, “I make myself clear?”

“Aye! Aye!” Breaker replied, slipping the helmet on and stepping up the gangplank as the mare flew off, “Fuckin nag,” he muttered, glowering after her before setting his gaze upwards, “Ain’t my faul…” He froze at the sight of Frostbite staring down at him, “Er-uh...ahoy there, Captain!” he stammered with a forced smile.

“This is the second time you have been late this week, Lieutenant,” Frostbite noted, a touch unhappy as he threw a glance the way the two pegasi had come, “And you are lucky that that is all I can bust you for.”

Breaker sighed, “Sorry, Captain. I’ll go start swabbin the decks.” He resumed his beaten trot to the ship.

“See to it that you do, Lieutenant,” Frostbite nodded sagely as his underling passed, “And do try to make an effort not to slander the name of the Navy or the Guard.”

“Will do, Captain!” Breaker replied, disappearing belowdecks to start on his punishment.

Frostbite gave an annoyed sigh as the pegasus disappeared, “If he were not so damn good at what he does…” he trailed off.

There was a sudden poof of magical light, a flash of heat bursting in front of Frostbite as a sealed letter sent by magical fire appeared before him. Frostbite frowned, taking the letter in his magic and examining the seal. He frowned.

“Admiral Tide sending a letter by magic fire? What, did that courier he loves so dearly call in sick today?” he mused, breaking the seal and reading the contents. His eyes quickly grew wide.

“Private!” Frostbite barked, turning to the Guard he’d first spoken with. The Guard jumped and turned, startled by Frostbite’s sudden change in tone.

“Y-yes, sir?” he stuttered, noting the sudden tenseness in his Captain’s form.

“Find my Lieutenants and have them make ready to sail. I will return shortly,” Frostbite ordered, charging down the gangplank and off back up the dock.

“But...post orders…” the Guard watched as Frostbite charged away before muttering a swear and galloping down belowdecks.

04 - The Foul Depths of the World

A series of short knocks came from Star Light’s door.

Roused from her reading, she magicked her reading glasses over to a table, frowning as she wondered who it might be. She was expecting no guests and...she threw a quick glance to her calendar.

‘Could it be…’ she began to wonder, hopping down from her couch and cantering to the door. She peered quickly through the peephole, spotting white fur, golden armor…

She flung the door open with a smile, “Overch—” she stopped herself short.

While the armor and fur matched the pony she had expected, the eyes and mane didn’t.

“Oh...hey Frosty,” she greeted, dreading what the visit might mean. Her smile melted away, “Um ar-aren’t you normally running...drills at this hour?”

“Yes,” Frostbite said, letting out a quick sigh, “Would you mind if I come in?”

Light drew back, gesturing for him to enter. With a curt nod, he slipped inside, the door closing behind him.

“As welcome as it’d be, I doubt you’re here just to say hi,” Light said, brushing a bit of shiny, silver mane from her face as she hopped back onto her couch. Frostbite, setting his helmet on a short coffee table in the middle of the room, took a seat on a pillowy chair opposite her.

“No, I fear I bring...unhappy news,” he said, frowning in thought as he considered the best choice of words, “Word...just reached us that Lieutenant Overcharge perished at the hooves of Powder Burn.”

Silence filled the room like a tomb. Neither pony spoke, Light’s eyes losing their shine, suddenly losing focus to the world around her. Slowly, ever so slowly, her face contorted into a haven of sorrow, eyes tearing up. A single, shiny droplet dropped from her face, hitting the carpeted floor.

Suddenly, her eyes regained their focus, locking onto Frostbite as tears dripped steadily from them.

“He...How?” Light asked after a brief moment, wiping a torrent of tears from her deep purple eyes, “Are...are they s-sure?”

Frostbite took in a deep breath, trying to get a sudden knot out of his throat, it tortured him to see her like this, “Yes. They searched the wreckage many times over, only one survivor I was told, the pegasus lookout...I forget his name. It was Powder Burn that sank her.”

Light bit back a whimper, “But...I mean...how did Overcharge...” she asked, unable to finish.

Frostbite shook his head, “I do not know.”

“Bullshit!” Light snapped, anger flaring up from nowhere, taking Frostbite by surprise, “How did—”

“I don’t know!” Frostbite snapped back, startling his sister into silence with his own harsh tone, the room’s temperature dropping a few short degrees.

Silence filled the room for another short bout of time. Light’s sorrowful face continued to leak a steady stream of tears, conflicting emotions playing battle across her face. Anger flared up into a vicious snarl, only to be dragged into a hopeless frown, and back and forth again. She wiped her dripping nose.

“You don’t,” Light admitted, a light, if sad, chuckle breaking out of her maw before a choked sob chased it out, “You...you never were much of a liar after dad got you...that-that one time,” she said with a quick, nostalgic, smile, “Hell, I-I hardly did anything bad for a while after that.”

“I...I plan on hunting the pirate down,” Frostbite put in. Light’s ears perked up at the mention, “Admiral Tide was not so happy about the idea.”

“Well fuck him!” Light snapped, anger breaking through once more, “What’s he gonna do to stop you? Sink one of the top-of-the-line ships run by the best Captain in the entire Equestrian Navy? Go over that...that dumb old fart’s head!”

“He asked me politely to reconsider,” Frostbite answered, his face unhappy with her choice of words, “and to get input from you—”

“Well, yeah, then! Go get him! Geld the bastard and bring him back so we can watch him hang!” Light growled, tears of conflicting rage and sorrow dribbling from her eyes.

“—and from Purée,” Frostbite finished pointedly.

Light shut her trap, an annoyed growl rising from her throat as she tore her leaking gaze from her brother, hiding her eyes on the far side of the room as she wiped her nose again, “You...you know what this means to me.”

“It means just as much to me, Star,” Frostbite replied evenly, “Lieutenant Overcharge was a good stallion.”

“Mom and dad would want you to—”

“They are not with us anymore,” Frostbite stated.

Light’s lip trembled, she looked back to Frostbite as sorrow broke through once more, “I-I let him go, Frosty. I let him convince me to go after that pirate bastard, to bait him out, to try to kill him. I should...I should—”

“You did no such thing,” Frostbite asserted, leaning forwards as if to further assert the statement further, “Overcharge was a stubborn colt. Even if you had told him no he would have just gone over your head. You know that.”

“And you haven’t got the stones to go over Tide’s stupid head?” Light snapped back, tears freely flowing down her blue-grey face and coat.

“I have not got the stupidity to rush into things without considering all my other options,” Frostbite replied evenly, “As much as I want to serve judgement, doing it in this manner may not be the best of choices.”

“Same thing,” Light sniffled dismissively, blinking at her tears.

“No, it is not.”

Light sighed, looking away, “Fine, I guess it’s not,” her eyes lit back to Frostbite, “You know, I told him not to go. I...it was stupid going after him...at least like that.”

“I know, you said earlier,” Frostbite replied.

Light nodded, rubbing at her drippy nose again, “I told him he was gonna get himself killed doing this,” she grew quiet for a second, “You know what he said to that?”

Frostbite remained silent.

“What point in there in living...if you don’t have anything you’re willing to die for?”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>