The final man off the ship moved silently, deeper and deeper into the town, hardly worthy of a second look.  Ridged steel soles that dug into the wood of the deck on his vessel now clicked loudly on the cobblestone alleys, echoing off the stucco house walls and brick factory edifices.  It was quiet, though, almost lonely in that alleyway, save for the rippling of water flowing down the streetsides, without event he prying eyes of the constable's watchmen to brake the solitude.  He didn't mind, though, as he wasn't looking for the attention.<br/><br/>Strands of his mid-length, light brown hair, tinged at the temples and goatee with the earliest strands of gray, fell over his eyes, and he brushed them back with a long stroke of his fingers, though as he did so, he perked up a bit, angling his ear further down the alley ahead.  Commotion flew towards him, the patter of petite feet scrambling across the same uneven stone, a series of whistles and shouts following.  He thought to duck into one of the side alleys, but knew before the two girls even crested the corner that those calls were not for him.<br/><br/>They burst from another alley, stumbling as they ran, the older of the two nearly crashing into the unsuspecting man, slinking aside just before impact.  His eyes followed them, half startled, half disinterested.  As the smattering of officers followed moments later, he pointed down the street after the girls, who were still in plain sight, emulating the "dutiful citizen" that those officers liked to imagine frequented this part of town.  He remained still until the last of the ruckus disappeared into the night, and he was alone again.<br/><br/>He entered a small, inconspicuous pub, moving up to a shady, forgotten corner of the bar, taking a stool next to another man -- this one wearing a ragged cloak, which barely hid a crisp navy blue admiral's uniform.  The unremarkable man from the ship rolled his eyes at his contact, aggravated by the conspicuousness of this meeting, but suffering it regardless.  It was clear that his contact had something of dire importance for him, just as he did as well.<br/><br/>"The raven caws," the admiral said cryptically as the man from the galleon sat beside him.<br/><br/>"Do you honestly believe I'd sit by you in this dreadful place for enlightening conversation if you<i>didn't</i>have information I needed?" the plainly dressed man responded cuttingly.<br/><br/>Steel eyes glared back into the seaman.<i>"The raven <b>caws</b>."<br/>
</i><br/>"Please recall that I am the one with the gold.  You just have a small piece of information that I could get from any gold-lusting admiral," the plain man growled, his eyes darkening.<br/><br/>"How many admirals do you think would betray one of our captains?" the cloaked man scoffed.  His partner-in-crime seemed unamused, his stone-faced glare boring into the admiral until he lost his patience.  It seemed he was not as invaluable as he thought.<br/><br/><i>"Do not test my patience," </i>the plainly dressed man continued.  "You will be surprised how quickly it runs out."<br/><br/>Cowed for the moment, the admiral gave up his quest for confirmation.  "Where is the gold?" he asked, staring very interestedly into the bottom of his mug.<br/><br/>The ship's captain placed the crumpled paper onto the bar, sliding it over to the admiral with his fingers.  "Buried.  On one of the beaches just outside of town.  This map will take you to it."<br/><br/>"Excellent," the admiral said, reaching for the paper.<br/><br/>The plainly dressed man slammed his palm down on the sheet, glaring at the admiral.<br/><br/>"Of course!" the admiral cried, as if shocked by his lack of manners.  He reached under the cloak, into the breast pocket of his jacket, extracting a fine sheet of parchment, cleanly creased in the middle, with a small amount of ink, bleeding through the fibers.  "This is the man you seek."<br/><br/>The seaman took the parchment, unfolding it as the admiral snapped up the crumpled page, surveying it closely.  "Captain Scarborrough," he read off the page, "And coordinates for his current orders.  Well done."  He pocketed the carefully folded sheet.  "And you're sure he was born at sea?"<br/><br/>"Yes, yes," the admiral soothed.  "He was born on the ship his parents took back from a failed colony in the Americas.  It's why they call him Edward 'Sea Lion' Scarborrough."<br/><br/>"Sea lions are blubberous, noisy things," the seaman responded.<br/><br/>"This one's not," the admiral sneered.  "He's also known, perhaps more aptly, as the 'Lion of the Sea'.  He is mighty, and ruthless, and a formidable hunter.  You would do well to avoid him."<br/><br/>The plainly dressed man snorted, unimpressed.  "We shall see if your lion's roar is worse than his bite," he said, turning and heading for the door.<br/><br/>"How do I know this map is legitimate?" the admiral called back to him as he moved for the exit.<br/><br/>"You don't," he responded, not even looking over his shoulder.  "But if I'm lying, you're more than welcome to send your fleets to come and claim it.  Tell them Captain Vance Harrington sends his regards."<br/><br/>He slipped out of the door, which creaked in protest, slamming shut as the Captain of the Broken Serpent stepped out into the night once again.  With the information he now needed, he could purchase supplies for delivery to the galleon by daybreak, and they'd be off on their voyage.  They had a long journey, and he was sure his boys would have cleaned the town of ale by sunup.  There was no reason to stay a moment longer in this wretched port city.