Black Sands burned and the fire danced in Drake’s eyes. It wasn’t the first town he’d seen disappear in the way of smoke and ash, and by the time his plan was complete it sure as all the Hells wouldn’t be the last.

The flames eagerly consumed everything they touched, racing from the dark, sandy beach to the nearby encroaching jungle. Great plumes of black smoke billowed up into the sky, where they blotted out the twinkling stars.

It was a grim day for the pirates of the isles, but a glorious night for Captain Drake Morrass. The rest of his crew were witnessing the deaths of hundreds and the extermination of one of the few safe havens left for scoundrels like themselves. Drake was witnessing the birth of an empire. His empire.

A single dinghy crewed by eleven men rowed back to the Fortune. Ashore, the Werry Meather, Black Sands’ largest building and only tavern, collapsed in upon itself. Even from out in the bay, all of the crew heard the crack as the final supporting beam gave way. There was a long moment’s silence from the crew; every one of them had been drunk and worse than drunk in that tavern. Drake would miss the place and no mistake, but there were plenty of places to buy grog and he wasn’t about to shed a tear over the loss of one. Besides, it was taking every ounce of control he had not to grin at his good fortune.

The dinghy bumped against the hull of the Fortune and the silence was broken as pirates leapt to their work, knowing better than to slack. Ropes were lowered and secured, men scrabbled on board, and in a short time the dinghy was no longer in the water but on its way to the deck of Drake’s ship.

A single man approached the foredeck, where Drake stood in a bubble of isolation. Weather-beaten skin, long lank hair, and a gaunt complexion made plain the pirate’s long experience on the sea. He was, if anything, slightly older than Drake, and looked every year of it.

“What’s the news ashore, Princess?” Drake said.

“Town’s on fire,” his first mate replied casually.

“No, you don’t say.” Drake let slip a brief grin, but quickly removed it lest any of his crew noticed. “Any survivors?”

“Not a single one. Seems those bastards wanted ta be, what ya call it, thorough.”

“Did you happen to witness who committed this terrible tragedy?”

Princess nodded; a loose clump of hair flapped in front of his face, and he tucked the errant strands back behind his ears. “Jus’ so happens I took a few of the boys to check on the other side of the island, Cap’n. Would you believe it, there was one of them nice new Sarth navy ships jus’ setting course away from the deed.”

“Good. Make sure the whole crew know about that, Princess. Wouldn’t want anyone missing out on such a vital piece of the puzzle. We’ll set course for Port Sev’relain come first light, and I want the whole crew talking about nothing else.”

“Right y’are, Cap’n.” Princess turned and walked away, leaving Drake alone once again on the foredeck.

He stood there for a while, watching the town burn. “Break out one of the barrels of rum, boys. I want everyone to have a drink for Black Sands. Then I want everyone to have a drink to never letting those bastards do it again.”

His crew cheered, their sombre mood replaced with a rowdier, more vicious temperament better suited to pirates. But his crew were the easy marks. The real test would come in recruiting the other captains.