Where Loyalties Lie

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Black Sands burned and the fire danced in Drake’s eyes. It wasn’t the first town he’d seen disappear in the way of smoke and ash, and by the time his plan was complete it sure as all the Hells wouldn’t be the last.

The flames eagerly consumed everything they touched, racing from the dark, sandy beach to the nearby encroaching jungle. Great plumes of black smoke billowed up into the sky, where they blotted out the twinkling stars.

It was a grim day for the pirates of the isles, but a glorious night for Captain Drake Morrass. The rest of his crew were witnessing the deaths of hundreds and the extermination of one of the few safe havens left for scoundrels like themselves. Drake was witnessing the birth of an empire. His empire.

A single dinghy crewed by eleven men rowed back to the Fortune. Ashore, the Werry Meather, Black Sands’ largest building and only tavern, collapsed in upon itself. Even from out in the bay, all of the crew heard the crack as the final supporting beam gave way. There was a long moment’s silence from the crew; every one of them had been drunk and worse than drunk in that tavern. Drake would miss the place and no mistake, but there were plenty of places to buy grog and he wasn’t about to shed a tear over the loss of one. Besides, it was taking every ounce of control he had not to grin at his good fortune.

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