James watched the man for a moment before answering.

He leaned forward, forearms on the table, wearing the kind of half-smile that suggested he’d already worked out how this conversation would end.

More importantly, he looked pleased by it.

"That depends entirely on who’s askin’,"

The smile widened.

"Edward Thatch. Sloop out of Nassau. One of Hornigold’s lot."

He shrugged.

"For now."

The name fit too neatly to ignore.

The realization came quietly, another piece of information clicking into place.

He was sitting across from a man whose future would change the Caribbean.

What that meant for either of them remained unclear.

Unclear problems could wait.

James let the thought sink out of sight.

"Thatch. All right."

Thatch spread his hands. "Heard you came back shorter than you left. That’s the sort of story worth buying a drink for."

"That’s one version of it."

James leaned back slightly. "The version where I sent a French frigate to the bottom is better, but I’m not the one writin’ the report."

Thatch’s focus tightened.

"Fair enough."

He leaned forward again.

"Truth is, your shit reputation isn’t why I came up here."

James already suspected where this was heading.

"It’s your ship."

"The Rose."

Thatch tapped a finger against the tabletop. "I don’t know how your smug ass managed to get hold of a brigantine, but that’s why."

Now they were getting to the real problem.

James rested both elbows on the table.

"What kind of trouble are ye lookin’ for?"

Thatch’s grin sharpened.

There it was again. That hunger James had noticed from the moment the man sat down. Most pirates chased fortunes. Thatch looked ready to start collecting pieces of the world.

"You know about the Spanish losing a treasure fleet off Florida last year?"

"The one the hurricane wrecked?"

Thatch leaned forward. "Imagine spending years digging silver out of mountains, hauling it across an ocean, loading it onto ships, and then handing it all to the weather."

James snorted.

"Spanish efficiency."

Thatch continued, "Eleven ships, enough silver and gold to buy kingdoms sitting on the bottom. The Spanish have been pulling it up ever since."

James’s interest flared immediately.

The 1715 treasure fleet wasn’t some obscure wreck he’d vaguely heard about. Three centuries later people would still be digging coins out of those waters. Entire companies would spend fortunes searching for what the hurricane had left behind.

"They’ve recovered a fair amount already."

Thatch let the silence hang for a moment, enjoying it.

Then he explained, "I’ve got word the Spanish have finally decided to risk moving it. Three days from now they sail for Havana."

That changed things.

James pressed his tongue briefly against his teeth while he considered the timeline.

Three days.

The Rose sat in the harbor in need of repairs. Worse, she carried thirty-nine men when she should have had eighty.

A ship didn’t need to be whole to fight. Fighting shorthanded was another matter.

"Where’d you get the word?"

"From a man paid very well to know things."

Thatch waved the question away.

"And paid well enough to share them."

A dead end.

James moved on.

"What kind of escort are we talkin’ about?"

"Five Guarda Costa sloops."

James barked a short laugh. "So the Spanish found some silver and their first instinct is to surround it with enough timber to start a forest."

Five sloops was enough to make for a challenge.

Guarda Costas weren’t ships of the line, but they weren’t merchantmen either. Fast hulls, decent crews. Built specifically to chase smugglers, pirates, and anyone else the Spanish wanted inconvenienced. One could be handled. Two were dangerous. Five working together could make a very unpleasant afternoon.

Thatch seemed entirely too cheerful about it.

"I considered taking them myself. Then I decided five against one seemed a touch unfair."

He rubbed at his beard thoughtfully. "So I came looking for reinforcements."

James found himself wondering whether Thatch genuinely thought adding the Rose improved their odds or merely made the fight entertaining enough to justify the effort.

Nevertheless, he pictured the battle. The Rose could hold their attention while Thatch worked the flanks. An anvil and a hammer. Five escorts were still enough to kill careless men, but they stopped looking invincible once he began considering how to break them one at a time.

"Terms?"

"Equal halves."

The answer arrived so quickly James suspected Thatch had rehearsed it on the walk upstairs.

"You’ve got the guns. I’ve got the lead. Seems fair."

James huffed a laugh.

"Seems like ye’re tryin’ to make seventy percent sound like fifty."

Thatch placed a hand over his chest as if wounded.

"A cruel accusation."

The chortle ruined the performance.

The reaction felt almost backwards. Most men became more possessive as the treasure grew larger. Thatch seemed interested in the prize chiefly because of the size of the attempt.

"Call it a friendly offer," Thatch shrugged.

"Call it the point where the deal starts soundin’ too good."

James drummed his fingers once against the tabletop.

A convoy carrying that much wealth should have had ambitious men tripping over each other for a chance at it. Yet Thatch had crossed Nassau to pitch the job to a captain who had returned from his last voyage missing ships, crewmen, and portions of his mast. The hunt felt as natural as a shark offering sailing lessons.

"Equal halves is fine."

Thatch nodded immediately.

The man wanted the expedition more than he wanted the negotiation.

James kept that to himself.

He added, "But if your lead is wrong and we find ten sloops instead of five, I want room to renegotiate afterward."

Thatch leaned back and looked toward the ceiling as though giving the matter serious consideration.

The act lasted perhaps a second.

"If my lead is wrong, we’ll both be busy drowning. You can note the complaint then."

James barked a laugh despite himself.

The bastard had an answer for everything.

"Fair. We have a deal."

Then something appeared in front of him.

⚔ [QUEST ISSUED]

The Spanish Have Learned Nothing

Last year a hurricane relieved the Spanish of a considerable quantity of treasure. After months of effort, they have finally gathered part of it together again. In three days they intend to place that treasure back aboard ships and sail away with it. History deserves a second opinion.

Reward : ???

Reward : 50 Fate

The probability of wealth has increased significantly. The probability of an entertaining death has increased by a similar margin. Congratulations on your balanced investment strategy.

James’s eyes flicked across the notification.

Then he looked back at Thatch.

"I need some time. The Rose needs work before she’s fit for a fight."

"Three days is exactly what we’ve got."

Thatch leaned back.

"You either meet me at the harbor ready to move or you don’t."

The condition was simple.

Show up prepared, or miss the opportunity.

"I’ll be there."

Thatch rose from his chair.

He moved the way he’d sat down. Everything carried momentum.

"Good hunting, Calloway."

The grin had returned.

"Try not to lose any more ships before then."

"Much appreciated. Truly."

Thatch headed for the stairs.

A moment later he disappeared below.

The balcony drifted back into its previous rhythm. Noise rolled up from the tavern floor, filling the space the conversation had left behind.

James remained seated.

The quest box lingered at the edge of his vision. The rewards remained exactly where they’d appeared.

He’d received rewards before. Memories. One title with a strange benefit that nudged reality in subtle directions while refusing to explain itself.

The Fate reward felt different.

James looked at the empty air beside the notification.

"What exactly is Fate?"

Below him, the tavern carried on as though nothing at all had happened.