“Forty-nine… fifty!” Amelia finished her last set of push-ups and sat up. It felt so good to move her body! How many years had it been since she’d done a push-up? Or a squat? Was exercise always this enjoyable? Those foolish demons, they thought these thick chains on her hands and legs would restrict her! Ha! Rather, they’d given her ample opportunity for some resistance training!

She was amazed at how her game character’s high base stats and ward translated into such strength and endurance. Amelia could tell the chains on her were heavy, no doubt designed to seriously slow down any movement or escape attempt; however, she found it remarkably easy to move around.

Being this strong after so many years of being weak made her feel giddy. Perhaps she was drunk on power? Either way, her imprisonment did nothing to reduce her enjoyment of this new life.

Her cell was no more than a two-metre-by-two-metre box of iron bars that extended from the floor to the ceiling. It was one of a line of cells that were arranged in the centre of this deck of the ship, but Amelia’s was the only one occupied. Hundreds of cargo crates and barrels lined the walls, with just enough space left for the demons to walk around and between the cells.

And leaning on these very crates were the two demons that had manhandled her so aggressively! They had thrown her hard enough against the bars that she was sure she might have broken something if she had been a normal human being!

But, a normal human being was something she very much wasn’t! She was Amelia Thornheart, the top-ranked dreadmage of the Blacksteel Crusaders! Which player had spent sleepless nights slaughtering thousands of archangels to be the first to finish that collection log? She wasdid!. Which player had the most solo speedrun records for the Abyssal Dungeons? Her!

If anything, the iron bars were the ones in danger of being broken and she would definitely be complaining about her experience to the captain! She should start by giving these two a piece of her mind and—

Ah, what were they saying?

“Sorry, what was that?” Amelia bounced up to the iron bars.

The two male demons were ridiculously muscular. If her current body was accurate to the height she chose in character creation, then these two, who stood more than a head over her, would be about seven feet tall! Their hulking figures were dressed in some kind of military uniform, with one of them having a pair of stripes on each shoulder. Holstered in each of their belts were a sword and a firearm. They were both bald, with deep orange eyes set under a thick brow and above a square jaw. Their skin was marbled with black, grey, and red in a similar way to the camouflage patterns of a modern military uniform from her old world.

Each wore a set of heavy curled horns, similar to those found on a ram.

The demons from the game world didn’t quite look like this. Other than herself and her magic, most of the things she had already experienced seemed to indicate this world was very different from the game she played in the hospital.

“Cap’n gunna make toothpicks of your bones, human,” one of them said to her with a grin consisting of chunky white teeth. “Ain’t that right, Dagon?”

“Right you are, Tomes,” said Dagon, flashing her his own grin. “You ’member the last one she broke? Hung him up from the starboard sail.”

“Used him for target practice we did, didn’t we Dagon?”

Dagon nodded, smirking at her. “Screamed all night he did, didn’t he, Tomes?”

“That awful howling. Kept the entire crew up all night it did, didn’t it, Dagon?”

“Truer words never spoken! Cap’n kept his skull to drink her wine fr—“

“Wait a minute!” Amelia interrupted. “She tortured someone all night? Kept you all awake?”

Dagon spat on the ground, his forehead furrowing in annoyance. “Damn straight, little human, exactly what’s gonna happen to you.”

Amelia wasn’t buying it. She crossed her arms and asked, “The captain made her entire crew, which operates a military ship, go an entire night without sleep!? Huh!?” The demons paused at that and Amelia took that as a sign to push the attack. “Hrmmph! Sounds like someone’s a terrible captain! Or maybe… maybe you’re just trying to scare me with your exaggerated and made-up tales, hmm!?”

Dagon looked stupefied; his mouth opened in response, but nothing came out.

It was Tomes who spoke next, his expression darkening.

“Exaggeration or not, little human, the captain really does torture and hang those that endanger her or her crew, and you…” He punctuated with a finger jab. “Are a threat. If you tell her everything you know, she’ll give you a quick death. Seven hells, if you’re extra cooperative, she might even dump you on an island somewhere. She—”

“Tomes. Dagon,” a cool voice intoned from the shadows.

The captain stepped forward. By head height, she was shorter than the other two, although her horns just about made up the difference. The captain’s eyes were fixed on Amelia, her arm resting on her sheathed sword.

It was easier to see in the dim lighting, but the captain’s skin still emitted a subtle red glow. Amelia might have missed it if it hadn’t been for her heightened perception. Was this aura? If it was, did it function the same way it did in the game?

Amelia raised her chained hands and gave her a little wave.

“Hello,” she whispered.

“Any troubles?” the captain asked her two subordinates.

“No, Cap’n!” they both exclaimed in unison.

“Just recounting to our little spy here ‘bout that cutthroat that snuck on board last moon,” Dagon explained. “Don’t think she quite realises what situation she’s in. Want me to smack her around a bit?”

The captain didn’t reply immediately and kept her eyes locked with Amelia’s. What was she thinking? She did seem a little… calmer. Maybe she’d had second thoughts about her employment!?

“Tomes. A word.”

“Yes, Cap’n!”

Tomes stood up and followed the captain away down the line of cells while keeping an eye on Amelia.

Despite her feeling of delightful drunkenness at having a new body, Amelia realised that not once, from the moment she was thrown into this cell, and even now with Tomes and the captain walking away, and even now with Dagon watching her…

Did any of them ever remove a hand from one of their weapons.

Serena walked Tomes to the end of the cells, as far away from the human as she could be while still keeping her in sight.

“How did it go?” she asked in hushed tones.

Tomes took out a pair of neat spectacles and slid them up his nose, responding in an equally low voice. “Something's not right here, Captain. I’ve been at war long enough to know how humans react to us, and I know what a frightened human looks like, and Captain, she ain’t frightened. She might have twigged me and Dagon are playing dumb.”

“Anathor and I think she might be a Speaker.”

“Captain!” Tomes blurted out, starting to move back, pulling out his firearm, only stopping when Serena grabbed his arm.

“Wait!” she hissed. Tomes was one of the smartest soldiers she had ever had the privilege of commanding, but he always had a blind spot in rationality regarding his sworn battle-brother, Dagon. “She hasn’t done anything yet, right?”

Tomes didn’t look back at her; instead, he focused on the human in the cell. “Not yet. Captain, if she can Speak then those chains and bars aren’t going to stop her.” Tomes's eyes widened as he faced her, his face going white. “Seven hells, Captain! The munitions!”

Below this deck was the munitions hold, where several thousand four-inch shells lay sitting, patiently waiting to greet the Republic with their fiery tidings. They were sailing heavy in anticipation of the upcoming bombardment, but this preparation was a double-edged sword, and an unknown human Speaker added an element of risk Serena never thought she would deal with on the Vengeance.

Honestly, what was the ship doing, allowing that human on board?

“I have Anathor directing the crew. We’re moving them as we speak. The deck armour is strong, Tomes. Besides, she’s indicated she’s from a healing branch. If she only knows the First-Word from one of those, we'll be fine.”

If Serena had to Speak, her martial Word would dominate the human’s healing one.

Tomes was silent for a moment. “Anathor told you she could cast a defensive spell, right?”

“Yes. A ward-spell. She probably cloaked it so…”

“So we can’t just shoot her in the head when she's distracted?”

“Afraid not, and believe me, Tomes, if she’s a danger I’ll do what needs to be done to protect this crew, but…” She trailed off, causing Tomes to look at her with a quizzical expression. “…Remember, the ship spoke to Anathor; it doesn’t consider her a threat.”

“Is he sure he understood the ship correctly? It’s not exactly speaking modern Imperial to us, is it?”

“He seems confident.”

“Well then, the ship hasn’t done us dirty yet, has it?” Tomes removed his spectacles, cleaning them with a bit of cloth before putting them away. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “We about to get friendly with a human Speaker then, Captain?”

Serena felt herself grimace. “I’d rather not, although I have a gut feeling.”

“A gut feeling?”

“That she might be... alright.”

Serena’s instincts—honed by years of war and enhanced by her divine communion—hadn’t failed her yet. Beyond that, a mad idea was growing in her mind. For some reason, the more she thought about it, the more it grew. If, and it was a big if—if the human wasn’t a threat, and if she really was a healer…

It would be an unbelievable boon to her crew, propelling their combat efficiency skywards.

Tomes shook his head. “Korvus will never accept that. He’ll try to kill her.”

“Anathor is keeping Korvus distracted. I don’t want him knowing of her existence until the battle ends.” Korvus was almost certainly going to be a problem. If she weren’t a Speaker herself, then controlling her best stormtrooper would be impossible.

“How are we approaching this? We got a plan to find out if she’s a Speaker or not?”

“I, not we. You and Dagon will go help move the rest of the munitions. If things go bad, you won’t be able to help in a fight between Speakers. As for the method…” Serena’s hand went to her pocket, her fingers delicately touching the small box she’d collected from her quarters. “I’ll just ask her,” she said with a tone of finality.

“If she says no?”

“I’ll stab her proportionally to how smug she’s being. Find out if she’s really a healer.”

“If she says yes?”

“Might just stab her anyway.”