High-Sea Headaches

Well I can't speak for anyone else, but I continue to impress myself with these tricks of the tongue--what alliteration in that title there! I truly ought to invest more in poetry.
 
Today... I faced dishonor in defense of the Draconian Imperial Republic. Setting out to Del'Orta with Myuko and Orlando (and Bastet and Baltos), we were confronted by a sinking vessel on our way into a winding set of waterways to the hidden city. Now, I'd seen this trick before--the pirates send out a struggling vessel as bait (or, seemingly struggling), and when you move to the rescue, they seize upon you and surround you. And so we left the ship to sink.
 
Being a servant of the state entails making many difficult decisions. Ultimately, I couldn't risk being drawn into a dangerous trap, and we'd already lost enough time after Orlando was shot. We dropped some crates behind us which would float well enough for survivors--if the wreck was honest--to float upon if need be.
 
Perhaps the Great Spirits did not smile upon my indifference, though, because we were soon after set upon by crafty pirates flying a swallow flag. This... this is where the true tactical embarrassment begins. Upon my insistence, Orlando threw up an illusion of a false, matching flag upon our mast. Such was my previous experience with pirates that I expected they'd see the friendly flag and pass us by; but the ragtag organization of these glorified water gangs is such were there is pathetic few enough of them to have a full account of all their boats and crew at a glance. And so they remained unconvinced.
 
The spirits of vengeance and honor tempted me to strike back. So close was I to demanding a duel of these pirates, to challenge their disgusting captain face-to-face and striking him down for this dishonor.
 
But I have a duty to my state. And that duty requires sacrifice. So I sacrificed gold, trinkets, rations, to these scaleless mongrels. I even gave them my rash'tam, knowing for certain it would return to me once they were out of sight. I truly handed my dignity to them. And yet, as we left, they shot our boat full of holes anyway.
 
It is my solemnest vow that, when I muster the forces needed, I am scouring the Del'Ortan seas for the swallow flag and burning every last rickety ship.
 
We reached Del'Orta unmolested after that. The city is a clangor of disharmony, every other building resonating with the desires of divided interests. The filth of these pirates claims no kindred spirits of mine. After seeing Myuko off--gods guide his journey--Orlando marched us to where his debt was owed. The crew was gone--someone named Tusk?--and only their petty magister remained, but that man, strangely enough, was able to point me in the direction of my contact, Mai Lin... the brig of the infamous Flynn crew. As I push further along my mission, I find nothing but confusion and ill spirit. I cannot help but be wary of the echoes of Hikari's injury and Amiri's disappearance--failure is never happenstance.
 
And then there's the matter of the magician. His presence is...mostly a boon here to be sure (spats with ferry masters notwithstanding). But my business with Mai Lin is a matter of state secret--and it cannot be anything more. And how am I to get Mai Lin out of the Flynn's dungeons? Troubling times ahead.
 
May the Great Spirits watch me through the gleam of my sword, guard me in the plates of my armor, guide me in the words of the strangers I've yet to make familiar, and bless me in the light of sun and moon. I am but a transient pilgrim walking the tracks of this past and future world, my blood the blood of my lord and my father and my people.