She held up one finger. "First, the gambling dens in the upper district. High-stakes games where fortunes change hands every night. Problem is, most of them are rigged, and even the honest ones require a substantial stake to enter. The house always wins, especially against newcomers who don't know the local tricks."

A second finger joined the first. "Second, the auction houses. They sell everything from exotic animals to naval intelligence to people." Her voice hardened on the last word, her cat-like eyes narrowing dangerously. "If we had something valuable to sell, we could make a fortune. But right now, our pockets are as empty as a Navy officer's promises."

The third finger rose. "Third, direct theft. Target someone who already has what we need and take it. Risky, but potentially the fastest option. Rich merchants, corrupt officials, visiting nobles—they're all walking safes just waiting to be cracked. Some of them practically beg to be robbed with how they flaunt their wealth around this cesspit of a town."

"You seem to know a lot about this place," Alyssa said, suspicion evident in her tone. She leaned forward, platinum blonde hair falling over one shoulder as she studied Raven with those cold, pale green eyes that missed nothing. "Almost too much for someone who claims to be just passing through."

"I've been here before," Raven admitted with a casual shrug that didn't quite match the intensity in her eyes. "Three times. It's where I sold information I stole from Navy offices. Where I fenced valuable items to build up my fund for Lily." Something vulnerable flickered across her face at the mention of her sister before vanishing behind her usual mask of confidence. "This town doesn't forgive mistakes, but it rewards those who know how to play its game."

"So which option do we choose?" Pierre asked, his analytical mind already weighing the risks and rewards of each approach. His fingers drummed lightly against the wooden table, a habit that betrayed his restlessness.

Raven took a long drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The cheap liquor left a burning trail down her throat, but she'd tasted worse. "All of them. We need to split up, cover more ground. Time isn't our friend here, and six million Cori isn't going to materialize out of thin air."

"Split up?" Alyssa repeated, alarm in her voice. Her hand instinctively moved to her hip where her riding crop would normally be, finding only empty air. "In this place? Are you insane? Do you have any idea what happens to people who wander alone in Corsair's Cradle?"

"We don't have time to stay huddled together like lost children," Raven said, her tone leaving no room for argument. Her bicolored hair caught the dim tavern light as she leaned forward. "I can check the docks, see about any high-paying smuggling runs or get word about potential targets worth hitting. The kind of information that doesn't make it to tavern gossip. Information people would rather die than share freely."

"I'll go to the upper district," Alyssa said, surprising them all. She straightened her back, chin lifting with ingrained nobility that no amount of hiding could disguise. "I know how to navigate those sorts of places. My father hosted enough diplomats and businessmen that I can speak their language. They won't see me coming. Rich men never suspect a beautiful woman of anything but seeking their attention."

"What about us?" Leo asked quietly, looking from Pierre to the others. His thin fingers clutched his broom tighter, knuckles whitening with tension. The tavern's rowdy atmosphere clearly made him uncomfortable, a reminder of how recently he'd escaped servitude. His eyes darted nervously around the room, taking in the scarred faces and weapon-laden belts of the patrons.

Pierre considered the boy. Leo was too young for the gambling dens, too inexperienced for theft, and too honest for smuggling. Those large, dark eyes held shadows of past trauma, but also a fierce loyalty that Pierre found himself reluctant to risk. The boy had already suffered enough under one master's thumb.

"You'll stay with me," Pierre decided, his sky-blue eyes scanning the room with casual vigilance, noting every exit, every weapon, every potential threat. "We'll see what we can learn here. Taverns are where stories get told and secrets spill with the ale. Maybe we'll hear something useful, something the others might miss. Plus, you've got a talent for going unnoticed. People say things when they think no one's listening."

Leo's eyes widened slightly at the implied compliment, a hesitant smile touching his lips.

"So we split up during the day, meet back here to share what we've learned, and plan our next move," Raven summarized, already calculating angles and opportunities, her mind racing through possibilities and contingencies. "We've got two weeks before we need to be at Veridia."

"Two weeks to find six million Cori," Alyssa said, disbelief coloring her words. She toyed with the rim of her untouched glass. "In a place where people would kill us for the clothes on our backs. This is madness."

"That's the spirit," Raven said with a sardonic smile that didn't reach her eyes. She pulled her hood up, concealing her distinctive half-red, half-white hair. "I'll start at the docks. Pirates are usually more talkative when the sun's still up and they haven't drunk themselves stupid yet. Amazing what information men will share when they're trying to impress a pretty face." She adjusted her top slightly, ensuring just the right amount of distraction.

She stood, adjusting her clothing to emphasize certain features while hiding others. It was a transformation from navigator to dockside charmer happening before their eyes. Every movement was purposeful, each gesture calculated for maximum effect, a weapon being readied for battle.

Alyssa also rose, straightening her practical but well-made travel cloak. She'd removed her more obvious signs of wealth days ago, but still carried herself with an unmistakable air of nobility that no change of clothing could disguise. It was in the tilt of her head, the perfect posture, the unconscious expectation of deference. Years of being the daughter of Captain Hardy couldn't be erased overnight.

"I'll find out what games are running and what the minimum stakes are," she said, a hint of her old commanding tone returning. "Maybe get a sense of who the major players are. Rich men love to brag about their fortunes, especially to women they think are impressed by such things." A cold smile touched her lips. "Father taught me that much, at least."

Pierre watched as the two women headed in opposite directions. Raven toward the rough-and-tumble docks, her movements casual but alert, eyes constantly scanning for threats; Alyssa toward the deceptively glittering upper district, her back straight as a Naval officer's, chin held high despite their circumstances. Two women from completely different worlds, pursuing the same impossible goal.

"Will they be okay?" Leo asked quietly, his fingers idly tracing a name carved into the tabletop. His concern was palpable, a boy who'd seen too much of the world's cruelty to believe in easy victories. The name beneath his fingertips read "DEAD MAN"—an ominous reminder of Corsair's Cradle's unforgiving nature.

Pierre considered the question as he took another drink of the Cradle Comfort. The burn was less noticeable now, the warmth more pronounced, settling in his chest like a small sun. The cheap liquor tasted of smoke and regret, but it did its job.

"Raven knows what she's doing," Pierre said finally, running a hand through his shock of vivid red hair. "And Alyssa is tougher than she looks. They'll be fine."

He took another sip of his drink, the harsh liquor no longer burning quite so badly. "Underestimating either of them would be a serious mistake—probably the last one anyone would ever make."

He wasn't just saying it to ease Leo's worries. Both women possessed strengths that most would never see coming until it was far too late.

"And us?" he asked softly, glancing around the tavern filled with hardened criminals and desperate souls. "What can we really accomplish just sitting here while they're out there risking themselves?"

Pierre smiled, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. The constant internal battle against Valerio's influence had drained him more than he'd realized. Here, in this chaotic den of thieves and cutthroats, he found a strange sort of peace. No expectations. No rules. Just survival and opportunity. It felt almost like freedom.

"We listen," Pierre said, gesturing to the room around them with a casual sweep of his hand. "We learn. We watch for opportunities others might miss. In places like this, information is as valuable as gold. People talk when they drink, when they celebrate, when they mourn. And when the time comes, we find our way to six million Cori, one way or another."

Leo nodded, his grip on his broom relaxing slightly. The tension in his thin shoulders eased as he settled in beside his captain.

"I trust you, Captain."

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