As the Admiral’s word left his mouth, three of the arms he had grafted onto himself extended, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the bones inside unfolded, until they grabbed Diego and started pulling him against the bars. When the guards tried to stop him, he unfolded more arms and, with incredible perception, extended them behind himself to seize the jailors by the throats and hold them aloft.

  At last, the assassin popped free, assisted by his slimy gift, and John turned his attention to Paracelsus, who was quietly watching everything unfold. When those sunken, scary eyes turned to the alchemist, he felt his heart drop, which was amplified tenfold when the admiral started toward him.

  “You look familiar.” He said, using yet another hand to scratch his “chin” for a few moments, before he snapped his fingers in recognition, “I’ve seen your portrait before!”

  “Well, my sister’s a Marine.” He said, an unusual fright in his voice. He was normally not the squeamish type, but he was more than aware that the Admiral must have gone through hell for what happened to his body. To what end, he was unsure, and quite frankly, it was probably for the best he didn’t know.

  “Yes! Yes, it’s coming back!” His voice rose in excitement, “I believe I served with her, back on the… Oh what was it? The Wall! She was just a Captain then, but she had this large portrait of you hung up in her quarters.”

  “Right…” The alchemist tried to hurry the conversation along, even though, had he thought more intentionally, it would probably be best to stall the man in front of him, “I’m sorry… I didn’t catch your name?”

  “Oh, where are my manners?” He reached another arm, uncannily, into the very recess of Paracelsus’ cell, which meant that it reached a final length of nearly ten feet, to shake his hand, “I’m Admiral John Steele. Say, you appear to be in a spot of trouble. Do you need help?”

  “I appreciate the offer, sincerely,” Paracelsus said, apparently politely enough to not set off any alarms, “But no - this was all a big misunderstanding, and I prefer to do things the legal way. But please, if you would be so kind - don’t tell my sister if you should see her again?”

  “Of course, Mr…”

  “Paracelsus.”

  “Mr. Paracelsus.” He gave a small bow, before leaving, “Have a good day.”

  Once he was finally out of earshot, Paracelsus let out a hearty sigh, just happy to have survived whatever creature he had the misfortune of encountering. Intellectually and abstractly, he knew that he shouldn’t judge others on their looks, but viscerally? John Steele was a scary looking man.

  “Oh, shit!” He slapped his forward, when a realization dawned on him, “He took Diego!”

  —

  Rosa took a deep breath, centering her breathing and focusing her mind, as she approached the grandiose doors that blocked her from the boardroom of the Conglomerate. Miguel had stayed home, his inability to lie would be too much of a liability. She held the small, empty vial in her gaze, before discarding it. At this point, she was as prepared as she ever would be.

  “Greetings, ladies and gentlemen of the Board,” She said, stepping through the doorway, “Unfortunately, Federico and Miguel have fallen sick. Rest assured, it’s a small flu, but they didn’t feel well enough to attend this meeting.” In her mind, it was only natural to cover both of her brothers - After all, she had convinced herself this was all for the good of her family.

  Whispers flew around the long, lavish table - worries about if all the Almarés men were coming down with the same sickness as Alejandro. The thoughts were not abated, but temporarily ceased when Rosa struck both her palms on the head on the table.

  “Thank you,” The businesswoman said in a professional tone, “Now, if I may present the first topic of discussion - As you all know, my father, bless his soul, is far too sick to continue his duties as President of the Conglomerate. I propose that we vote to formally oust him from his position.”

  She knew the motion would pass. It was entirely uncontroversial, and were it not for Federico’s insistence on revering their father, it would have happened long ago. Still, businessmen had to present the veneer of a similar reverence, and as such, it was only passed by a margin of nine yeas to three nays.

  “Right, then,” The heiress breathed out stiffly, and snapped her fingers. The effect was instant, but subtle: five of the members, Luis Hernandez, the Victoria’s Captain, Lucia Garcia, the head of the company-owned newspaper, Carlos and Rafael Aguado, co-runners of the Aguado brewing company, and Camila Alfaro, who ran their foodstuffs division, all had their eyes grow glassy and vacant, “Second order of business, I propose a vote on instating myself as the interim President of the Conglomerate, until a suitable candidate is found.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  This was a much more controversial suggestion. Immediately, Adan Torres, who grew tobacco, was alit with disapproval, “You’re barely twenty-five years old, how could you lead with such little experience?”

  “I know it’s unorthodox -” She started.

  “Unorthodox?” Daniel Diaz, who was in charge of the production of arms, asked, “Maybe. But she would just be fulfilling an interim position, I think it’s worth allowing her the chance.”

  After a few more minutes of heated debate, the vote was called, and the five hypnotized members raised their hands, then, being joined by Daniel as well as one other, the motion was narrowly passed seven-to-five.

  “I can express neither my gratitude,” Rosa said with a genuine smile on her face, “Nor my commitment for this decision. Unless anyone else has any other motions to put forth, we can move on to the next part of this meeting.”

  —

  “What?” Federico, having managed to get a moment of privacy to reconvene with Joaquin, asked, with his hand on the bridge of his nose, “You had him? He had him, and then he was taken? And in the process, three guards died?”

  “Se?or,” The head guard and trusted confidante put his hand on Federico’s shoulder comfortingly, “It was a Union Admiral. My men didn’t stand a chance without some serious reinforcements.”

  “And the assassin himself? How did he manage to kill three men?” The heir asked in response.

  “That I have no excuses for,” The guard looked disappointed, primarily in himself, “But at least we got a likeness sketched.”

  The heir snatched the paper rudely, not reserving any time for pleasantries in the midst of his building frustration. As he looked at the composite, his disapproving, but still impassive frown morphed into an angry scowl, it was close enough to the man he thought he saw for maybe two seconds less than a week ago to convince him.

  As he went to go and have a discussion with Paracelsus, he saw the strangest sight - The mysterious stranger was hugging his crewmate through the bars. Not a simple, modest embrace, but full on throwing themselves against the obstruction, and in the case of the fairy, even shedding a few (presumably uncharacteristic) tears.

  “Don’t worry about me, friends.” He said, in a poor attempt to cheer them up, “I’m sure this misunderstanding will be resolved shortly, and we can all get back to selling our tobacco.” As he said the last part, he sent a pointed glare toward Federico that threatened some retaliation.

  “Captain,” Tariq leaned in close, “There’s only a few guards. If we wanted to, I’m sure we could get you out, by force. Also Gru’lya told me to say ‘hello’.”

  “Well, hello to her as well.” The Captain replied, “Don’t worry about busting me out. I swear to you this will resolve peacefully.” He leaned back, and spoke a bit louder to address his crew, “Now - I hate to ask this right as we reunite, but please - Give Federico, Serpacinno, and I some privacy.”

  “Parace,” Lonceré said seriously, a finger outstretched, “You know I owe you far more than I can ever repay.” His friend hesitantly nodded, not truthfully believing it, “I can’t let you keep any more secrets from me.”

  The alchemist cracked a wide, toothy smile - not a grin, for that implied some level of mischief or trickery, but a straight, genuine smile full of warmth and joy. He knew his crew well enough to know that once the momentum had swung in one direction, said momentum may as well have caused a fierce maelstrom, and as an experienced sailor, he knew when to fight the wind, and when to let it carry him.

  So, pre-empting his crew’s protests, he put his hands up in defeat, “Alright, fine. Everyone can stay. Federico, come here please.” The crew made space, and suddenly Paracelsus found himself surrounded by the six, “Alright, first things first. You know you can’t keep me in here, and quite frankly I believe I have proven my innocence as far as can be reasonably expected.”

  “That’s true.” Federico said, his gaze softer, but still angry. Not at Paracelsus, but simply in general surrounded by a cloud of anger, before he finally opened the door to the cell, which was a gesture more than anything real.

  “I appreciate that, truly.” Before saying another word, he quickly glanced at Joaquin not twenty feet away, ready to spring into action, before throwing caution to the wind and delivering a powerful left hook to the heir’s chin, “That is for, in equal parts, the licks you got on me, and for making Gareland cry.”

  “Again, fair.” The heir put his hand up to stop his guard from springing into action, “I know I can’t hold you here. I don’t know if you truly can break your ship out of the marina, but I don’t see a point. You didn’t kill my wife, and now the only lead I had is gone.”

  “That might not be true,” Paracelsus said with a grin, “You see, that Diego fellow spent, to my approximation, about forty minutes in the adjacent cell. The only name he mentioned that whole time was ‘Ramona.’ Not your wife’s name, insofar as I know.”

  Federico struggled, but remembered, albeit vaguely, a businesswoman he’d met by the name of Ramona. There were talks of incorporation at one point, she had a small level of success with metallurgy or something, but the deal fell through at the last moment - something about the offer being too low.

  “Did he say anything else?” The heir asked with the grave seriousness of a commander.

  “Release my ship,” Paracelsus said, “And we’ll talk. Until then, I’m afraid I really won’t be able to divulge anything.” Federico nodded, already intending to do so, which made the Captain happily clap his hands together, “Good, then. One last order of business - Would you be interested in joining my crew?”

  —

  Ramona impatiently tapped her foot. It was already four, nearing sundown, and she was still waiting for Diego to give any update on his assignment. He was normally a competent man, molded by his decades of experience, but now, of all times, when they’d had their most important client he had to flounder.

  “Damn!” She winced, clutching the sides of her nice, silk pelisse, before she reached under it, taking out a small flute, “I hate getting my hands dirty.”

  She played a long, droning note on the flute, and the sediment and sand in the cracks between the cobbles on the ground started to amass. A quick, sharp, peak, and the debris was given form - a hulking goliath, with relatively small legs but large, tree trunk-like arms that lead to a simple, oblique torso which was not quite separated from the thing’s head, which came to three points along its crown. As she walked, the creature did too, lumbering on its forelimbs like a great, sandy gorilla.

  “Come, Aflorocoso,” Ramona said, donning a pair of inconspicuous spectacles, “We have work to do.”