Shipwrecked in Saltmarsh

     “Boys!  Stop it!” Fianna demands.  “Next one to attacks someone without me knowing why will be hexed so as their eyes bleed and their testicles explode...  daily!”

      Turning to the guard, hands on her hips and brow furrowed, Fianna shouts: “You are supposed to arrest him.  Not kill him.  Do you not know the difference?”

"He's a smuggler!" shouts Farley, almost in a whine. He holds his hands up to protect himself from Dain.

Quote from Kaemgen >>

     “Boys!  Stop it!” Fianna demands.  “Next one to attacks someone without me knowing why will be hexed so as their eyes bleed and their testicles explode...  daily!”

      Turning to the guard, hands on her hips and brow furrowed, Fianna shouts: “You are supposed to arrest him.  Not kill him.  Do you not know the difference?”

 Molo begins writing down that threat for later use...

     "Yes," Fianna agrees.  "Yes he is."  

     "He's a smuggler.  Your partner is a drunk.  You're incompetent.  Yet the world continues to be flat and reside upon the back of an annoyed tortoise. What's your point?" Fianna asks, her voice trying to be calming and soothing as she attempts to simmer down the tension.  "Arrest him.  Bring him back to town.  Hold a trial.  At least for show.  Townfolk love that kind of thing, makes them think there is justice yet satisfies their voyeuristic and bloodthirsty tendencies too."

     "Molo?  Molo!  Put that quill down and go tie up the smuggler's hands.  I'll make sure Farley here keeps his sword in his pants..."

Molo hurriedly finishes and goes to tie the smuggler’s hands.

Dain simmers and glares at the guard but at least stops whacking him.   "Butts helped me escape the clutches of Sanbalet and the hobgoblins.  I dunno what part he played in the gang, but I suspect he's not the sharpest tool in the smithing set.  Let him face a fair trial like the girl says."  Even if the townsfolk will probably tie him up and hang him.  At least I'll feel like I've given him a chance.

"I think it's time we got out of here and plodded back to town..."

"Look," says Butts, calming down somewhat. "I'm an honest trader. I buy an' sell stuff. My partners got a little ambitious, tryin' t' branch a little into slave tradin' and such. And that made me a lil' uncomfortable, y'know. So I did what I did. But I'm no smuggler, neither!" He holds up his hand in pledge. "Praise King... the King!"

"...Care for another?" he asks Molo, his eyes directing to the tapped cask. "I could use one, too!"

"But 'yknow, I don' think a whole trial thing is necessary here. Not with this lot." He glances at Farley. "Maybe we can come t' another arrangement?"

"What have you to offer?" Dain questioned before anyone else had time to respond.

"Well..." He looks around. "We have these very fine double...  double mangey silks. Worth at least seventy gold a roll if they're worth a copper. And this delicious brandy - care fer some? We do owe some of this in trade to another dealer we're expectin' but I'm sure we – I – could spare a cask or two." he lowers his voice. "Didja... Didja kill ...all of 'em?" He raises his voice and peers over your shoulders again nervously. 

     "Kill is such a strong word...  I prefer vigorously arrested," Fianna mutters. 

     "But wait... Is the guard and the smuggler...  teaming up now?  Weren't you going alls tabby just a second ago??"

“Who were these people? The hobs? Thieves of smuggled stuff?” 

Molo’s teeth clack together a few times in thought and confusion.

"Oh them?" spouts Butts. "Muscle. Nasty pieces of work, them goblins. Sanbalet liked to have some toughs around."

Farley sulks quietly and rubs his sore head.

"Which trader are you expecting, and when?" asks Dain directly.

"Could be part of a bigger smuggling ring?" he wonders out loud.

"Uh, one of our dealers," replies Butts. "He'll be here next week. He's pickin' up the silk. I ain't no smuggler, but I can't vouch fer him. Not somebody ye' wanna cross. The silk's his, but if y'd like a roll or two to smooth over this 'arrest' business, I'll find a way to make it work."

The ocean continues to boom outside the sea cave. Butts helps himself to a mugful of brandy and chatters nervously. Farley continues to sulk quietly and nurse his lumps. Butter is presumably still sleeping under his cart in the cold drizzle.

     "I'm going back to town to find Fireborn," Fianna announces.  "You can all come, or you can all stay.  But this is a mess that should be handed over to town guards."  

     Fianna takes a moment to give Farley the side eye.  "Trustworthy town guards. If you're all coming, let's keep someone between Farley and Butts.  If you're all staying, the same but also keep an eye on the goods..."

     Fianna then stalks off through the caves and back up into and through the house to the cart...

"Look here," says Butts nervously to the others. "Let's work out an arrangement here. Please. If you leave me with th' Guard, those goons are gonna kill me before ye' even leave the Tower. Take th' silk, take the brandy, take it all. But just leave me be. I'd rather face Snake Eyes' wrath than th' blasted Guard! I can work fer ye', hey? I have skills!" The sweat begins to pour again.

     "I am not a jailer or a judge," Fianna says as she walks off.  "Sometimes one must face up to what they have done..."

Dain shrugs and moves to follow Fianna 

Molo approaches and whispers. “What sort of skills?”