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"Tsk tsk..." The man grinned, holding up his arms and revealing the huge amounts of explosions strapped to his chest. A man without fear. "I'm afraid your fleet will have a hard time finding my ship... It's already half-way towards it's next stop... Isla Muerte... where I believe that cargo freighter was headed... And by the way... My modifications are fully legal. I've been signed-off on by the Queen herself, and I wasn't offering prostitutes to you, Admiral. I was offering simply a transaction of a few servants to do the housework." The man stood from his place and began towards the door. "Trying to stop me wouldn't be wise... I've already fastened enough nitroglycerin to your flagships to blow a hole the size of this city in their hulls."
 
     
 
"My good sir, were you born this stupid or did you have to work at it?" Edgar said, Marines coming out the door pointing shotguns at Seritan. "The Queen herself would never deign extend such niceties to a backstabbing, money loving, whore such as yourself. I have been in Her Majesty's service for over three decades and I have never once seen anything remotely close to what you have said. Your intelligence gathering is faulty, and you have the audacity to assume my fleet is not secure. Go ahead, blow us all up, sign your crew's death warrant. If we die here, they will have to face the full fury of Her Majesty's Navy. Either way, you lose."
     
The man casually pulled from his shirt a letter, sealed with Her Majesty's Signet Ring, and delivered it to the Admiral. "I believe you're mistaken once again, Admiral. In any event, if you should choose to pursue me..." He continued towards the door. "...you'll find that a court-marshalling will be in order, and you and your entire fleet will be sentenced to death by Crow's Nest. ((For those who don't know, it's when they lock you in a cage and let the crows eat you alive.)) I have orders from Her Majesty, for which I've worked for my entire life in secret, doing the things she couldn't have her mark on for her, to take over your task and bring the cargo ship to Isla Muerte, now." He smiled, rolling up a sleeve to reveal his tattoo, the Mark of Importance. "Now then, Admiral, you are hereby ordered to stand down, by Her Majesty's mark, letters of importance, and the crew of the Dread Crow. Hand over your escort papers so I can be on my way."
 
     
 
Edgar looked at the seal, the opened the letter. He sighed. "Sir I'm afraid you are quite mistaken." He said, passing the letter around. "You see gentlemen, these papers are forgeries. The seal has at least three discrepancies, the signature is pointing the wrong way and you still haven't adressed my biggest question. From who do you get your information? Not only that but you assume I can be swayed by empty threats, and if I may add, empty threats that can easily be construed as an act of war against the crown."

"Bloody tosser." An officer said shaking his head at Sheritan. "Soiling the mark of importaince like that. . . My pa would have taken you out back in the woodshed and given you a good flogging."
     
By the time the men had finished passing the papers around, the man was gone, and two officers had been killed, a knife-wound at each man's throat. The papers were indeed real letters of mark, even though the seal was not of the Queen's. They were written by a group who works alongside the Crown, but has more hidden authority. The group was only known as "Nightscale." There are legends that a member of Nightscale has the authority to destroy anything and everything in their path, regardless of laws and regulations, to achieve their goal. This particular letter gave Sertian all the authority needed to make sure that the Cargo ship "La Gren Tamar", the ship the fleet had been escorting, was brought to Isla Muerte. In fact, it was his ship that fired on the destroyer and crippled it so they would land in Ferriton and meet with him. Sly devil. It all made sense now.
 
     
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