Legends of Runeterra

The truce during the flooding of the dead is a long-standing tradition in Bilgewater.

It's more of an unwritten rule than a strictly enforced custom, but whenever captains attend the funerals of old sea legends, their warring crews can come together without bloodshed.

Sarah found it strange that these tyrannical men and women could actually adhere to this ancient custom. Until just now, she had always regarded it as an antique that had not been broken.

A hand grabbed her right elbow and pulled her fist back.

Raven appeared to her left and pulled her away from Petyr.

"Calm down, Captain," he said. "There, there..."

She was a little tempted to throw another punch, but by the time Raven helped her to her feet, Sarah's anger had faded. Her attitude had been made clear, so she let Raven pull her aside.

"The final journey of descent is about to begin," a voice reeking of alcohol sounded in her ears, "all those gathered here must listen to the oath."

"May peace be upon us," she went on naturally, "and may there be no more wounds in body and soul."

“No knives, no guns, no summoning of snakes, no magic,” Raven added.

"Observe the Truce of the Drowned Souls!" Petyr said the last word and crawled away from her.

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief and turned to see who had pulled her away with Raven.

A thin figure with a hunched back, wearing an expensive sea beast leather coat, a fresh octopus tentacle tie, and a shiny manta ray flat hat on his head, in contrast to his usual ragged appearance.

"Thorne?" she said, gently pulling away from Raven's hand.

"You should call Captain Thorne," he said, blowing a puff of expensive seaweed tobacco onto the deck, just a finger's width away from her polished leather boots.

Sarah laughed. "You? Captain? When did it happen?"

Thorne looked smug, like a loading boy who had just stolen a mango. "I've got a ship, and a loyal crew of sea rats, after you get rid of Crow and Old Blow."

He breathed like a barrel of rotten clams. Thorne could dress in expensive clothes and flaunt his character, but he would never change his nature.

“You can always eat the leftovers under the table, right?” Sarah said. “Okay, get out of the way.”

Thorne stepped aside and said, "Remember this, Sarah Doom, you can't avoid retribution when it comes."

"Okay, okay, got it." Sarah said, and took two steps to Petil Hake.

She stretched out her hand and twitched her fingers nimbly, as if she were flipping a coin.

"Do you want me to give you a hand?" she asked with a smile.

"Do you think that's funny?"

"Isn't it funny," Sarah said, "Look at me laughing."

Petyr looked at her gloved hands, one eye swollen and black, and smiled despite the pain from his broken nose and twisted stomach.

"If I offer my good hand, are you really going to shoot?" he asked.

"I had no such plans, but today isn't over yet."

He took her hand and let Sarah pull him to his feet.

"What are you doing here, Petyr?" she asked.

"Although the pirate secret meeting is over, traditions still need to be observed, right?"

"I've heard that more than once." Sarah glanced at Raven.

She pulled a handkerchief from her coat and handed it to Petyr, who nodded in thanks, wiped the blood from his lips and chin, and handed the handkerchief back.

“Keep it,” she said, looking at his newly decorated hand. “It’s very fine. It doesn’t look like Bilgewater craftsmanship.”

"Indeed," Petyr said. "Well, yes and no. A new apprentice at the Biltbert workshop made it for me. A young man from Zaun named Gysbert."

“It looks expensive.”

“It’s really expensive.”

Sarah looked him up and down: his tailored clothes, his rosy face, his empty scabbard, which should have been big enough for a fine sword. Whatever had happened to Petyr since his hand was broken off, it was clear he had bounced back.

"I've always wondered if it wouldn't be better for you to die in McGregor's slaughterhouse," Sarah said.

"I've often wondered why you spared me," Petyr said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for your mercy, but honestly, I'd be hell-bent on revenge until I die."

Sarah laughed, though she hadn't meant to. "Well said, Petyr, well said. But if you want to be honest, I didn't kill you because that's Gangplank's way, and I always wanted to be better than him."

"So, how's the effect?"

"We have to take it slow," Sarah said, and Raven walked between the two of them, holding three iron cups in one hand and a large bottle of rum in the other.

"Come on," he said, "since the truce is in effect and no one is planning to kill anyone, why don't we try some of Ya Lai's Tibetan wine?"

Sarah handed Petyr a cup and then took one for herself, and Raven poured two fingers of brown goo into each cup.

"Keep your powder sharp," Raven said.

"Someday, everything will change dramatically." Sarah continued, and the three of them clinked their glasses.

Sarah tilted her head back and took a big sip. The strong spicy and sweet taste made her grimace.

"Phew, what rotten wine. Terrible," she said. "Did they really put Yalai's body in the cannon? Not in the barrel?"

"Alai is known for many things—a cruel old bastard, a ruthless captain, a seasoned killer. But he's not so well-known for his food," said Petyr, pouring the remaining wine from his glass onto the deck.

"I didn't even know you knew Ya Lai."

Petyr shook his head vigorously. "I don't know him. I only heard about him from others. But I have been on the Moon Python."

"This guy is mysterious," Thorne interjected, slipping over to Raven and offering him his cup. "A mysterious ordinary man, but why bother? Even if he dies, we're still alive."

Sarah shrugged and nodded to Raven, who poured Thorne half a glass.

"By the way," Thorne went on, "few of the people gathered here were his acquaintances. They also say he never went ashore. He always sent one of the twins ashore. Ah, did you hear how he died?"

"I heard he was stabbed in his sleep. The servants got so many beatings that they rebelled." Captain Blackstone barged in with a cup.

Raven immediately poured her a sip.

"I hope your sentries don't get drunk," she said, taking a sip. "Ah, good wine."

“Is that what you heard?” Sarah said. “I heard the spiny squid on the plate was not fully dead and strangled him.”