All three were striking. They had no bells or garlands to be seen, but the way they stood together—shoulder-to-shoulder—was as though they were different parts of a single body.

A spark ignited in the eyes of the middle-aged one with butter-toned hair and a beard to match. Zane found himself drawing forward, stalking them like an ashworm in the snow.

As villagers rushed by, Zane kept his gaze on the trio, certain they were about to do something, though he could not guess what. But when the middle-aged man’s warm, sunflower eyes dropped to Zane’s ice-cold ones, Zane halted. The man smiled, and Zane felt a touch of fury warm his blood.

Was that a taunt?

Zane realized he stood before them now, just an arm’s reach away. “Here to defend the village?” he guessed, eyeing the staffs they carried. A twinkle found the silver-nickel eyes of the boy on the man’s right, and a slit of striking, white teeth showed when he smiled.

“Ragnashuck, pirate. I’d think you’d know a takeover when you saw one,” the boy said, daring Zane to do something about it.

But the middle-aged man cast the boy a look. “Manners, Nicholas. We’re not here to make enemies.” The man’s voice was calm; like an easy breeze on the snowseas.

The boy on the right flashed his devilish grin again. “Aren’t we?” he taunted, silvery eyes glimmering at Zane.

Zane looked at the folk one by one until his stare fell back on the aged one in the middle. “Move your merry scotchers,” he said with demeaning articulation. “Or you’ll be tangled up in those wood hooks and pretty black clothes when I’m done with you.”

All three blinked.

Suddenly, the silver-eyed boy threw his head back and released a mad laugh. Zane tilted his head like a crow, deciding he would tackle that one first.

The middle-aged man sighed and looked to the sky where the birds circled overhead.

“No need to get hissy, pirate. We’re only here to play,” the silver-eyed boy wiped a bead of moisture from his lash.

“Alright,” the middle-aged man said. “Nicholas. Posineon. Clear the street’s edges. I’ll sweep the middle.”

All at once, the black-cloaked trio moved. Zane’s eyes darted between them as he drew his cutlass, trying to decide which one to tackle as they all brushed past, sketching their staffs over the snow and gliding like melting butter on a fire-roasted fish.

Frustration boiled Zane’s blood as the three snuck up on bellowing Kelidestone crewmen who snatched what they could. The silver-eyed boy and his companion blocked blades with skill and tossed the pirates into the snow like flimsy branches needing to be cleared away.