After several more days of sailing, the lookout in the crosstrees shouted "Land Ho!" as Nustar Island came into view.


    Merrick raised his spyglass and peered at the various ships coming and going from the island. Flags from all across Lyrea flew in these waters. Kyranian, Imperial, and Azonian flags were among the most common flags Merrick spotted. He also saw an Elven flag, which was very rare. Many were merchant vessels, or passenger ships on one of the trade routes. Rarely, there were naval ships patrolling the area, but since Nustar Island was not owned by any one nation, no navy had complete jurisdiction here. Still, pirates were not welcome.


    "Ah, Nustar Island. A haven of trade and treachery. Time to play the part of humble merchants, lads. Hide those pirate colors and bring out the finest fake goods we have!" Merrick said. He was leaning casually against the helm, a wide grin across his face. The anticipation of making port, getting supplies, and visiting the local tavern was almost too much.


    "Aye, Captain. We don’t want to draw any unwanted attention. Best keep our blades hidden but ready. Gilb, take us in slow and steady." Roger replied, adjusting his coat.


    "Aye, Roger. Setting a course for the merchant docks. We’ll blend in like a fish in a school." Gilb replied as he kept course.


    "Colors changed, Captain. No one’ll be the wiser." said Ken Wittershanks, as he folded the black flag with the skull and crossbones and tucked it away into a sack. The new flag flying was that of the Kingdom of Azon.


    "Excellent! Remember, lads, we’re traders of the finest silks and spices. Act the part—look respectable, or at least as respectable as you can manage. Roger, keep an eye out for any familiar faces who might spoil our little charade." Merrick winked as he addressed the crew. There weren''t many folks out there that would openly out them as Black Squids, but they did exist. All they needed was one day to resupply. As long as the authorities could be kept in the dark for one night, they would be fine.


    "We’ll keep our heads down, but stay alert. Nustar’s a hub for all sorts, and not all of ''em friendly." Roger nodded sternly.


    "What’s our story, Captain? Should any of these traders get curious?" asked Ampthos. He was polishing a deck rail.


    "Ah, let’s see… We’re humble merchants from Bayreach, come to trade fine silks and rare spices. We’ve had a long, peaceful voyage with not a hint of trouble. Got it?" The crew nodded in acknowledgement to Merrick''s proposed guise.


    "Keep your wits about you, men. This place might not welcome pirates, but it’s still filled with dangers. No drunken brawls or loose tongues." Roger said, as the ship neared the port. He was eyeing the busy docks, monitoring for potential threats.


    "Indeed, Roger. We’ll be the very picture of decorum. Now, let’s dock this fine vessel and see what fortunes await. And remember, lads, a smile and a silver tongue can work wonders. Sometimes more than a cutlass!" Merrick laughed.


    The ship coasted slowly into port, and Gilb expertly aligned her with the dock.


    "Ready to drop anchor!" He said.


    "Drop anchor and lower the gangplank! And let’s make this the most profitable and uneventful port visit we’ve ever had. Smooth sailing and sweet talking! We depart before first light." Merrick said with a flourish. The gangplank hit the dock with a wooden clack, and the pirates set foot on dry land for the first time in nearly a year.


    Merrick sauntered down the street, not a care in the world. He swayed, as if drunk, from the months spent on the open sea. He looked very clumsy. He had to raise his arms up to balance sometimes, which gave him a very distinct walk compared to the other folks around him.


    "Ah, the pub. Perfect." He said, as he rushed into a dirty looking dock bar. The interior was thick and hazy with smoke, and smelled of sweat and low tide. Merrick stumbled over to the bar.


    Rum, if you will, my good man!" Merrick requested of the tender. He slapped a few Azonian copper coins on the counter. The rum came quickly, and Merrick took several swigs from the brown bottle. As he turned around, a hard slap struck his cheek, and his whole head turned. He shook his head, and blinked several times. He touched the tender red cheek.


    "What in the blazes?!" He said as he turned to face his assaulter. It was a pretty woman. His heart sank.


    "You''ve a lot of nerve coming back round here, Derrek!" She shrieked at him. No one seemed to care however. Merrick tried to motion for her to quiet down.


    "Tethys, my dear... So good to see you." Merrick said in an exaggerated tone. He was, most certainly, not, happy to see her.


    "You''re a rat bastard Derrek! You belong at the bottom of the sea!" Tethys said, and then she picked up his bottle of rum, took a swig, and then splashed the rest all over Merrick''s coat. She turned sharply on her heels, and huffed out of the pub. Merrick sat there, empty bottle in hand, dripping rum. He blinked a few times, shrugged, then turned and ordered a new rum.


    Roger stalked the streets of the Port. He was trailed by several of the crew. All men he thought to be loyal to him over Merrick. The group turned down a deserted alleyway. Looking to ensure there were no prying eyes or listening ears, Roger opened up the conversation.


    "Right lads, we''ve a moment away from the ship. Now''s the time to speak our minds. We can''t let Merrick lead us into further peril. Who''s with me?" He said to the three other men.


    "Aye, Roger, ye’ve got me ear. Merrick’s a fine talker, but he’s leadin’ us to the depths. I’ve seen too many cap’ns with stars in their eyes and rocks in their heads. We need a steadier hand on the tiller." "Salty" Jeb Tyndall the cook, from Southland nodded fiercely, and grinned slyly.


    "Aye, Roger. The seas be filled with tales of men undone by their own ambitions. Merrick’s got the look of one bound for such a fate. We need a captain with a sharper mind and a firmer grasp on reality." Tom Rooker, one of the gunners, said gripping his pistol with a sinister smile.


    "Merrick’s charmin'' ways won’t charm us out of Davy Jones’s grip. We need to take control before he gets us all killed." replied Billy McGraw, the quartermaster leaning against a wall, twirling a knife in his fingers.


    "Good. We’re agreed then. Merrick’s lost his way, chasing legends and curses. We’ve got to make our move before he leads us all to ruin." Roger said, looking each man in the eye. He knew these men could be trusted. He had sailed with them since the Tiderunner was "commissioned" by the Squids. Ramseys Singh assigned the whole crew of the Tiderunner to Captain Merrick, but times were changing.


    "How do ye propose we do it, Roger? We can’t just slit his throat in his sleep. The crew’ll need to see that he’s lost their trust, and that you’re the man to lead ''em." Jeb asked.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Aye, Jeb, you’ve got the right of it. We’ll need to show the crew that Merrick’s leading us to our doom. We use his obsession with the Light of the Sea against him. Let him dig his own grave." Roger said, nodding.


    "We start spreading word of his madness. Let the crew see the folly in his eyes, hear the fear in his voice. When the time’s ripe, we strike." Tom''s voice dripped with venom. It was clear to Roger that this particular pirate was very upset with Merrick.


    "Aye, but what about them still loyal to Merrick? They won’t take kindly to mutiny, even if it’s for their own good." Jeb proposed. The question was important. They were four, and the crew was over a score of men. They had to convince them mutiny was the right course of action. Otherwise, Merrick would have the lot of the conspirators hanged.


    "We handle them swiftly and decisively. Gilbert’s the key. He’s loyal but practical. If we can turn him, the others will follow. We also need to focus on the Bosun." Roger said. He had already tried to approach Gilb once, but perhaps with the rumors they would spread, the old helmsman would be easier to convince.


    "And if they won’t turn?" asked Billy.


    "Then they’ll join Merrick in the deep. We can’t afford half-measures. It’s our lives at stake." Roger said coldly.


    "When do we move?" Asked Tom.


    "We’ll let Merrick lead us to the Light of the Sea. Once we’ve secured it, that’s when we strike. Be ready, and keep your wits about you. The time for action is close at hand." Roger said.


    "Aye, by the Powers, that''s right. But what of Davy Jones, eh? The cursed sea devil ain''t gonna let us slip by so easy. We need a way to fend him off, or we''re all for the locker." Jeb asked, scratching his chin thoughtfully.


    "Jones''ll come for us, no doubt. What''s yer plan, Roger? We ain''t lookin'' to be part of his ghostly crew." Billy asked.


    "I''ve thought about that these past days. We return to Libertalia. Captain Singh and his fleet are our only hope against Jones’s cursed crew. We use the Light of the Sea as a bargaining chip. We offer it to Singh in exchange for his support." Roger said, leaning closer to Jeb.


    "You think Singh’ll go for that? He’s a hard man to bargain with." Retorted Tom, raising an eyebrow skeptically.


    "Singh''s ambitious. The Light of the Sea could solidify his power, maybe even make him the ruler he wants to be. He won’t pass up the chance to gain control over the seas and weather. And we? We gain his fleet''s might against Jones." Roger said.


    "Now that’s a plan I can get behind. Fight fire with fire, and use Jones’s own weapon against him." Billy grinned.


    "Sounds risky, but no more than followin'' Merrick into the jaws of doom. Alright, Roger, you’ve got my support. We just need to make sure the crew sees the sense in it." Jeb replied, nodding slowly, his sly grin returning.


    "They will, Jeb. Once they see the danger Merrick’s leading us into, they’ll have no choice but to follow me. We take the ship, secure the Light, and bargain with the Black Squids. It’s our only chance." Roger said. "Merrick will be given the Black Spot as soon as we have the Light in our possession."


    The group nodded, and they dispersed separately away from the dank alleyway. Roger had a pang of guilt, plotting against Merrick, but he quickly dispelled it. He and Merrick had sailed many voyages, and taken many prizes, but Davy Jones was not something to mess with, and Merrick almost cost the whole crew their lives. Roger nodded to himself, reassuring himself that he was doing the right thing.


    Merrick stumbled out of the pub hours later. He swayed unsteadily on his feet. The empty bottle in his hand clattered to the ground as he shambled off. He wandered aimlessly down the quiet streets. By now, even the drunkest sailors were passed out. Merrick passed several sleeping in heaps of trash or even just face down in the roadside ditches.


    As Merrick walked, he heard someone beckoning to him. A gruff voice, that seemed to chew on the words it spoke, called to him.


    "Captain Merrick Draven!" It called. Merrick wandered over to a large hovel, in between two buildings. Incense hazed the air around the hovel''s entrance. Merrick entered, and saw a medium sized Carcharia, adorned with all manner of dried sea life, sitting on the floor. Hookahs and incense sticks spewed fragrant smoke, making the hovel smell like a driftwood fire. Merrick sat down across from the Carcharian. The shark-folk were always interesting to Merrick.


    "Captain Merrick Draven. The tides have brought you to my doorstep. There are things you must hear." the Carcharian said.


    "Well, well, what do we have here? A mystic with a penchant for pirate tales? I do enjoy a good yarn." Merrick slurred.


    "The waves whisper of your fate, and it is not one of glory but of darkness. You tread a path that leads to the abyss, where Davy Jones awaits your soul." the mystic shark-folk said.


    "Aye, the old sea devil himself. Seems everyone''s got an interest in my affairs these days." Merrick laughed.


    "You are on a path to fail, Captain. Your soul bound to the depths, your fate sealed in the grip of the Mariner. But there is a chance, a sliver of hope to change your stars." the mystic said, leaning closer. His eyes glittered with ancient knowledge.


    "Oh? And what might that be, old sage? A magic potion? A spell?" Merrick asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued despite his drunken state.


    "No potion, no spell. This compass, Captain, is what you seek. It points to what you desire most, but be warned—each use takes a piece of your soul." The Carcharian mystic reached into a chest and produced a weathered old compass, adorned with ornate tentacles and other sea life.


    "A cursed compass, eh? Always loved a bit of cursed treasure. But what’s the catch, Wise One? There’s always a catch." Merrick asked, taking the compass and peering at it curiously.


    "The catch is your very essence, Captain. Each use will draw you closer to the abyss. But with it, you may find the means to defeat Davy Jones, to turn the tides of fate in your favor." the mystic said, nodding solemnly.


    "Defeat Jones, you say? Tempting... very tempting. But why help me? What’s in it for you?" Merrick swayed slightly, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.


    "Davy Jones is a blight upon the seas, a curse that threatens all who sail. He upsets the balance of nature, and the recycling of souls.I wish to see his reign ended, his soul returned to the deep. You are the key, Captain, if you can wield the compass and survive its toll. Those who use the compass, often go mad as their soul fractures. Only those who truly know what it is they want, and what needs to be done to atone for those desires survive its price" The Carcharia sighed with the weight of this ancient sorrow and knowledge.


    "Aye, a fair trade then. A bit of my soul for a shot at glory. What’s a pirate without a bit of risk?" Merrick replied, with a lopsided grin.


    "Take the compass, Captain. Use it wisely. The path ahead is treacherous, and your sanity is the price. But with courage and cunning, you may yet turn the tide." The mystic placed a clawed, webbed, hand on Merrick''s. He looked gravely at the Pirate Captain.


    "Well, here’s to high stakes and higher rewards. May the sea favor the bold, eh?" Merrick said, standing up. He clutched the compass as we swayed unsteadily on his feet.


    "May the sea watch over you, Captain. For you sail towards destiny, and only time will tell if you conquer it or are consumed by it." The mystic said, as Merrick sauntered out of the hovel.


    Merrick stumbled down the street, heading back to the Tiderunner. Daylight would soon be arriving, and he needed to be back before first light. He looked at the compass. It was quite intricate looking. The case was covered in strange symbols, of no language he was familiar with. Tentacles, crabs, fish, and other strange lifeforms encircled the round cover. He thought about opening the compass, but a strange feeling came over him. "My soul? Pieces?" He thought. He flipped it open, and the needle spun wildly around. He took his normal compass out and opened it. When his new compass settled, it did indeed point in a different direction than his regular compass. It was pointing in the direction of the Shark Islands. He snapped the compass shut and stuffed it hastily into his pocket. He didn''t feel any different, but tonight, he would not risk anything in excess.


    He made it back onboard the Tiderunner, along with a few other straggling pirates. He checked with the Bosun, and ensured the resupply went well. Then, he roused the crew, even in his drunken state, to make way. It was time to head to Mao Shar.