…talk to the men.

You walk up to the men,

“Where’s Captain Wendigo?”

They look at you confused. Five faces, blotchy, spoiled and unkempt look at your own.

“Tell us what’s happening?”, one of them says. A bulky looking man in yellow silks grabs your arm and looks you in the eyes, “My ship! My merchandise! Is it ok?! Speak up damn it!”

You give back the misinformation you prepared, “It’s the Coronac Navy; they snuck up and attacked the docks.” Satisfying looks of horror greet you from the five men, their eyes widening and their mouths falling agape. “Now tell me where Captain Wendigo is!”

As if your words alone summoned her, the doors at the top of the stairs burst open and the enigmatic Captain Wendy ‘Go’ Washkin steps out. Her long velvet red coat is trimmed with white and gold and a fine looking sword hangs at her side. Her face carries the marks of black eye liner, bright red lipstick, and a very serious expression framed by gold blond hair, cut to the jaw at the front while trailing long behind.

Finally, your target is in sight.

One of the brightly coloured merchants, fat face now adding its own red hue to his already bright dress, screams up at Captain Washkin.

“You promised that we would be safe here! You Promised!” The husky looking man still holding your arm shakes you, yelling as well.

“Tell her girl! Tell us all!” You pull your arm out of his meaty grip and he lets go, looking frightened, as though you had the navy itself up your sleeve. Looking up, there is another man standing next to her. He’s shorter than her by a hand and a half, with big brutal blades at his belt and a garish looking sleeveless coat hanging off his shoulders. You remember what the pirates at the building said; this must be ‘Roland’, or Captain Roland, whose colours are red and yellow both in dress and in crew. You speak up to them both.

“The Coronac Navy is here, there attacking the town! Three galleons! I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

The room goes silent for a second, and several things find themselves happening in that seconds duration.

Firstly, and with little forethought, Captain Roland screams out. “DAMN IT ALL!” Running down the first few stairs with coat billowing. Captain Washkin, with a little more decorum, silently mouths a curse and looks everywhere in the room at once, forming a plan that only she can see. The merchants give each other some very worried looks. And finally, a man wearing red and white comes through the door, sees his captain at the top of the stairs and yell’s,

“Mam! The two crews have started fighting! There’s a riot at the inn!”

Captain Roland, frozen in place halfway down the stairs, is once again the first to act, breaking the silence that hangs heavy in the room.

“Come again?”, he says in a confused voice. The man at the door responds,

“Er, the two crews have started attacking each other, sir. Don’t know why. Its reached the docks so it has!” The door guard left standing behind him look past the new comer into the still room, a confused expression on his face. Slowly, nine pairs of eyes turn towards you.

“He’s lying! He must be working with the Navy!”

Eight pairs of eyes look at the man, including yours; Captain Washkin’s are the ones fixed firmly on you. Her words cut through the air with a razors calm clarity.

“That’s Tony Brittle. He’s been on my crew for seven years and saved my life twice. He’s reliable. I don’t know who she is.”

She says the last part while turning her eyes to Captain Roland, who had turned to look at her. He then turns to look at you, eye’s slowly squinting, before responding.

“No... I don’t know who she is either.”

‘This is bad’, you think to yourself, ‘very bad’. You look around the room, taking in the faces looking at you.

“I’m new.” It’s all you can think of, but you don’t say it to convince anyone, rather to buy you time to think of something else.

The mission is a bust. Maybe it had been from the moment you poisoned the proverbial well. While you target is so tantalisingly close, there is simply no way of running up the stairs, bypassing Roland, killing her before either of them draw a weapon, taking the necklace, and escaping somehow. Similarly, it would take a far more skilled linguist than you to convince anyone you’re innocent. The stairs are blocked; the front door behind you is blocked. To your right is a large open door to a dark room, good for getting lost in, but you can’t see what it contains or if there’s a way out. To your left is a well lit room, containing nothing but furniture and a door leading further into the manor. Easy for everyone to see where they’re going.

You have a half second to decide. Left or Right?