Later, when the party had truly died and the songs had turned to sleepy hums, Gin stepped out onto the outer deck.
Khelt stretched around him in stacked rings of metal and light. Hydrarchy banners still hung from upper rails, but a few had been quietly removed, repurposed as bandages and tarps.
Footsteps thudded behind him.
"Thought we'd be gone already," Jakk said, coming to lean on the rail beside him.
Gin smirked. "I figured I'd let you embarrass yourself a bit longer before waking you up for the grand exit."
"Generous," Jakk said.
They stood for a moment in comfortable silence, watching the waves slap against Khelt's sides.
"You saw it?" Jakk asked eventually.
"The draft?" Gin said. "Yeah. I particularly enjoyed the part where I was described as 'armed and highly erratic.'"
"They're not wrong," Jakk said.
"And 'extreme caution is advised when approaching subject Mirefell due to prior service and unknown upper limits of strain output,'" Gin added. "Look at you. They really believe in your potential."
Jakk didn't laugh this time.
He stared out at the dark water.
"I used to read those notices," he said quietly. "The wanted scrolls. 'Pirate activity.' 'dead or alive' And I'd think, what kind of idiot makes themselves that big a target?"
Gin hummed. "And now you are that idiot."
Jakk's mouth twitched. "Yeah."
He exhaled.
Down on the lower decks, someone started singing again—softer this time. The words were old, something about long tides and longer memories. More voices joined in, rough and off-key and real.
Khelt felt… lighter.
Not fixed. Not safe. But tilted a fraction closer to something livable.
"Once that Auditor docks," Jakk said, "I can't come back. Not without putting them at risk."
"Yeah," Gin said. "That's the ugly part. They're not just giving us up on paper. They have to act like they mean it."
He could already picture it: guards shaking their heads sorrowfully at the bounty posters, telling stories about the "pirates" who nearly brought ruin to their good, loyal Hull.
And then, in quieter corners, telling the other version.
"Good thing the sea's bigger than one Hull," Gin went on. "You'll survive away from your favorite bar."
"Doubtful," the barman said, appearing in the hatchway with a bundled parcel in his hands.
Gin jumped. "God, it's weird to see your lower half."
"I don't live behind that counter you know," the barman said. He held out the bundle. "Dried fish, hardbread, two flasks of actual water. I've seen you drink, booze just isn't for you, Farcast."
Gin took it with a smile. "That's for me to decide, barman."
The barman turned to Jakk.
"And you," he said. "Take these barrels. I'm upgrading your tab from 'pathetic' to 'legendary.'"
Jakk blinked. "I thought you were wiping it."
"I am." The barman's mouth quirked. "But I'm keeping the books, and I charge interest. When you show your face here again, I'll be a wealthy man."
Jakk swallowed.
"You think I'm coming back?" he asked.
"I think the tides don't run in straight lines," the barman said. "And I think you're too stubborn to drown out there."
He hesitated, then added more softly, "You did good, Jakkon. Not just tonight. All the nights before, you kept the hull safe from beasts. That counts too."
Jakk looked like he didn't trust his voice, so he just nodded.
Rell and Tamsin appeared next, both wrapped in jackets against the wind.
"You really going?" Tamsin demanded.
Gin spread his arms. "I hear there are other Hulls in need of bad decisions."
"You could stay," she said stubbornly. "We could hide you in the scrap. Or… Or you could grow a moustache!"
"Tempting," Gin said. "But then all this 'wanted pirate' branding goes to waste."
Rell spoke up.
"You leaving this place," he told Jakk, "isn't allowed to be your penance. If you show up again, it had better be because you want to, not because you think you owe us."
Jakk's throat worked. "That seems to be the theme lately."
"Good," Rell said.
Tamsin lunged forward and hugged Jakk tight. He froze, then bent carefully, arms going around her without squeezing the burns.
"You're not a villain," she muttered into his chest. "They can write whatever they want, but I know."
"Keep knowing," he said roughly. "Loudly. The Hull's going to need your obnoxious honesty."
She punched him in the ribs very gently and stepped back, eyes shiny.
"Bring me something cool from wherever you end up," she ordered.
"Deal." Jakk agreed.
The scarred guard waited at the end of the gangway, a small knot of off-duty security behind her. No batons. No cuffs.
Just eyes.
"Farcast. Mirefell," she said, giving them a nod crisp enough to pass inspection and warm enough to be real. "You have five minutes to clear our perimeter before I start yelling things about 'fleeing suspects' very loudly."
"Make it dramatic," Gin suggested. "Really sell the terror."
"Oh, I intend to," she said. "Try not to look too smug when you hear about the size of your bounties."
"You already know it?" Gin asked.
"Preliminary figures," she said. "Let's just say you're worth considerably more than the boat you came in on."
Gin's eyes lit. "Neat!"
he walked down the gangway toward his battered skiff, Jakk limping at his side. The little boat bobbed impatiently, patched hull and mismatched lines lit by the Hull's spillover glow.
It looked very small against the flooded world.
"Last chance to reconsider," Gin said lightly. "I snore. I make questionable decisions. The accommodations are terrible."
Jakk stepped down into the boat, making it rock.
He looked back up at Khelt—at the rust and light and the cluster of people on the rail watching them go.
Then he looked at the dark horizon.
"No cages," he said. "That was the deal."
Gin's grin softened.
"No cages," he agreed.
He untied the lines with quick, practiced motions. The skiff drifted free, turning its nose toward the open water.
On the upper rail, the first dull flicker of a mist projector lit the air—testing, calibrating. Soon it would show their faces in harsh, official lines. Wanted: Gin Farcast. Jakkon Mirefell. Pirates. Rogue Floodborn. Dangerous. Reward offered.
Gin set one hand on the tiller and the other on the side of the boat, feeling the Hemovore reef hum under his skin.
Jakk sat opposite him, boots braced, Brinefurnace glow a faint ember under his sternum. He looked relieved. He looked… free.