The night was calm, deceptively so. A pale crescent moon hung over Isla Solida, washing the quiet harbor in silver light. Crickets hummed in the grass, and the whisper of the waves matched Argento's heartbeat.
This was the night.
For weeks, he and Veyra had studied every detail—guard rotations, tides, the working vessels versus the abandoned. One ship stood out: The Hound's Wake, a mid-sized sloop once owned by a merchant family, now abandoned by the Kingdom. Its paint was chipped, sails shredded, mast tilting slightly—a forgotten ship, useless to the Navy but perfect for them.
"Geheheheh… uglier than I thought," Argento whispered from the shadows of stacked crates, metallic fingers glinting faintly.
Veyra crouched beside him, eyes sharp, grin like a fox. "Ugly, sure," she whispered back, "but she'll be beautiful once we're done. Besides, ugly ships draw less attention."
"Geheheheh… fair point," Argento smirked, scanning the docks. Two guards leaned on rifles, half-asleep. Lanterns flickered near the warehouse, but most of the harbor slumbered. The smell of salt and tar filled the air.
They moved like shadows. Sand shifted softly beneath bare feet; boards creaked under measured weight. Veyra darted ahead first, slipping between barrels and nets, reaching the mooring lines with feline grace. Argento followed, fingertips flattening into tiny liquid hooks that clung silently to the wood.
At the edge of the pier, crouched behind a rusted winch, they surveyed their path.
"Two guards," Veyra whispered. "Shift change in five. You take the one on the left?"
Argento grinned, eyes glinting. "Geheheheh… I'll take both."
Before she could protest, he moved. Silver flickered along his arm as he melted into shadow. The first guard barely turned before a metallic whisper coiled around his mouth, yanking him backward silently. The second gasped—then Veyra's small fist drove into his neck with precise force.
Both men dropped without a sound.
Argento caught one gently, reshaping his hands into shimmering cuffs that bound them to a piling—firm, secure, and harmless. "We're not killers," he murmured. "Just thieves tonight."
Veyra smirked. "Thieves with style."
They climbed aboard The Hound's Wake. The deck creaked, the smell of tar and wood strong. Up close, the ship was worse: frayed ropes, cracked rudder, sails like tattered parchment.
"Perfect," Veyra said, sprinting toward the rigging. "Let's make her fly!"
Argento checked lines and knots. "We need to loosen the anchor…"
"Already on it!" she called, muscles working as the chain rattled, clunking against the dock. Argento winced but pushed the hull with metallic strength. The ship slid free, drifting into open water.
Silver plates hardened on his hands, shifting smoothly as he pressed against the wood, giving the sloop a final push. Behind them, a lantern flickered to life on the dock.
"Uh oh," Veyra muttered.
"Geheheheh… don't worry," Argento said. Crouched near the stern, his silver hands melted into liquid, slipping into the water like serpents. A flick of his wrist churned the wake, subtle propulsion enough to glide them farther from the pier.
Within minutes, Isla Solida shrank behind them.
Veyra stood at the bow, hair whipping in the cool wind, grin wide. "We did it! We actually did it!"
Argento leaned against the mast, tasting salt and metal in the air. For the first time in two years, nothing held them down. The world stretched endlessly ahead, dangerous and theirs.
The stars reflected across the waves like molten silver.
"So… what do we name her, Captain?" Veyra asked, reverent.
Argento looked to the horizon, the wind tugging at his hair, silver sheen along his hands glinting. "Geheheheh… born from the night, carried by thieves, gliding like quicksilver… The Mercurio."
"The Mercurio," Veyra repeated softly, a smile spreading. "I like it."
Side by side, they rode the waves toward open water. Isla Solida faded into shadow behind them.
Argento raised his metallic hand, catching starlight. "This is it, Vice-Captain. The beginning."
"Where to, Captain?!" Veyra shouted, eyes sparkling. "CICICICICI! The whole sea's ours!"
"Where to, huh?" Argento repeated, grinning wildly, the wind whipping his laughter across the waves. "Gehehehehe! Anywhere the sun touches! The world's wide open, Vice-Captain!!"
Veyra hopped onto a barrel, cupping her hands like a trumpet to the sea. "Somewhere fun! Treasure, fights, food! Maybe even a tavern that lets kids drink juice out of ale mugs!"
Argento laughed, a low, rolling sound. "Gehehehe! You're already thinking like a pirate! But first…" He tapped his chin dramatically, eyes narrowing toward the horizon. "Supplies, information, rumors about the world beyond this kingdom. A small port town—quiet, unnoticed—should do."
He unrolled the map on the deck, parchment creasing under his fingers. Veyra leaned over, tracing islands with small, excited fingers.
"Look, Captain!" she exclaimed. "This one here… and that one there! Which first? CICICICICI!"
Argento studied the scattered dots, notes scribbled in corners. One island caught his attention: off the usual trade routes, shaded green, with a tiny harbor. "Here," he said, tapping it with a silver-tipped hand. "Small, not heavily traveled. Safe to dock. Supplies… maybe information."
Veyra bounced on her heels. "Supplies… or treasure?"
Argento's grin widened, teeth glinting. "Both, hopefully. But first, a quiet start. We get our bearings… then…" He chuckled low, dangerous, full of promise, "…we make our first move as the Mercurial Pirates."
"Then let's go there first, Captain! CICICICICI! Lead the way!"