The only sober ones are the captain himself, a frail boy with feminine features (presumably also a woman), a man who always looks worried, and the woman serving the men in the tavern. They sit together at a table and look at the captain's sketchbook. “So we would have 5 ships that would join us,” says the captain's gentle voice. He leans back, closes his eyes tightly, and rubs the bridge of his nose. “That makes it 6 against 70.” He sighs. “He’s just too powerful, why are we even trying?”
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