Chapter Sixteen

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Seaver's office at the admiralty was a touch more imposing than the local fort. The only thing missing, Kent thought, was a portrait of the man himself hanging behind his desk.

Seaver hadn't looked up from whatever correspondence he was writing. His bent head low, the light coming in through the French doors highlighted the white-grey of his hair.

On the walls were plastered various commendations and medals, mixed with assorted knick knacks Seaver had collected over the years, including a pipe carved from ebony and tipped with ivory, a bejeweled letter box with accompanying letter opener with engraved handle and a selection of fine brandy kept locked in an exquisitely carved chest.

Kent perused all this idly while his superior finished his business. Seaver had fine taste, it seemed.

His eyes snagged on one of the many maps and sea charts covering the walls. They had been drawn with great care and were updated by Seaver himself every month. One of them was a bit odd, though.

Rather than depicting the ocean, it showed an image of the Dead Sea. Scattered across it were various words and symbols, but no other helpful tools for navigation. Kent furrowed his brow in puzzlement.

"Captain Kent," Seaver finally greeted him, stowing the letter he'd been writing on the desk for the ink to dry. "Your report."

Kent stopped fiddling with one of the brass buttons on his coat and stood straighter. "We are still on the trail of the pirate captain Dark Byrne," he rattled, "Keeping an eye on all of his known associates, of course."

"And the chart?"

"We believe he may be in possession of two pieces now."

Seaver's eyes flickerd with interest, then returned to their usual sullenness. "Continue."

Kent chewed his tongue. "We have been protecting the Amelia, as you've instructed." He paused. "We came upon the wreckage of the Polly Anne last week. We found no survivors, sir."

"So I have heard," Seaver sighed. "Keep guarding the Amelia, I fear she will become a target."

"Sir, with all due respect, no one expected the Polly to be taken either, yet Grimm sunk her. Furthermore, I believe there are still two—"
"That's enough, Kent. Grimm is dead." Seaver cut him off with an impatient expression. "You have your orders."

Kent nodded stiffly, leaving the way he had come. Seaver's apathy irked him, but it wasn't his decision.

The Polly Anne was the fourth seemingly innocuous merchant vessel Grimm had claimed in the past few months. Yet Seaver seemed not to care every time a new report was made. Kent had even requested permission to guard the Polly Anne, fearing a pattern. Seaver had redirected his attentions.

As he approached the exit, another man stepped inside, temporarily blocking Kent's path while they moved around one another. The man, rather unassuming looking aside from the scars across his face, stepped into Seaver's office and closed the door.

Kent frowned as he stepped out of the admiralty and into the sunny street. He turned left, deciding to take the long way back to clear his head.

The wreckage of the merchant ship had been horrific. Grimm's work was easily recognized once seen twice. It only added to Kent's suspicions that Grimm wasn't truly dead. At first, he'd thought the false Grimm, Duncan O'Brien, was responsible for the attacks. But for at least half of the reported attacks, Kent had it on good authority that O'Brien had been elsewhere, far away.

Kent cut right, wishing that he knew more about all these pirate mysteries. He could track down Dark again, but he doubted the pirate would tell him anything he wanted to know.

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