Captain Bane's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Captain Bane needed information before he could act. He left the harbor and walked through Deadville's narrow streets until he found what he was looking for—a shop with dusty windows and stacks of old maps inside. The door stood open. Inside, rolled charts covered every surface. He moved through them, his transparent hands hovering over each one. Most showed waters he already knew. Then he spotted it—a detailed chart of the shipping lanes around Deadville. Routes marked in faded ink showed where merchant vessels traveled and where pirate fleets liked to hunt. His enemy would use these same paths. Bane studied the chart, memorizing each route. Now he knew where to watch. Now he could plan. But knowing the routes wasn't enough. He needed to know which ships sailed them now, today. The map showed the past, not the present. Bane left the shop and walked until he spotted a building with a gleaming metal roof. Bronze plaques marked its entrance. The Maritime Customs House. Records would be kept here—logs of every vessel that entered and left the harbor. His transparent form passed through the heavy wooden door. Inside, rows of shelves held leather-bound ledgers. Bane moved between them until he found the current registry. His ghostly finger traced down the pages. Ship names, cargo types, departure dates. Then he saw it—a familiar vessel listed under his enemy's fleet. The log showed it had docked here three weeks ago. Three weeks. The backstabbing cur had been this close while Bane wandered the harbor like a fool. But the registry also showed the ship's planned route and its next scheduled return. Two months from now. Bane stepped back from the ledger. He had time to prepare, time to gather what he needed. When that ship returned to Deadville's harbor, Captain Bane would be waiting. His ship would be his again. Two months meant he needed a way to signal when the moment came. Bane walked back toward the harbor, his mind working through the problem. A ghost couldn't fire cannons or ring bells. But fire—fire could be seen for miles across dark water. He found what he needed near an empty dock. A fire pit sat ringed with weathered wood and nautical carvings. Rope knots decorated the stone base. Someone had built it for sailors to gather around, but now it stood cold and abandoned. Bane circled it slowly. When his ship appeared on the horizon, he could light this pit and send signals across the waves. Other captains would see the flames and know something was happening. Maybe some would help a ghost reclaim what was stolen. Maybe they wouldn't. Either way, Captain Bane had his watching post, his records, and now his signal fire. The first steps were done. Now came the waiting.