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# Waverider Expedition - Srel Colony

The price of murder

The Waverider lay anchored off the coast of the Srel colony, her sails slack in the heavy air. The jungle rose behind the shore like a green wall, steaming in the noon sun. The crew rowed in under the crack of insects and distant drums, the oars cutting through red-tinted water thick with mud.

They had expected trade, maybe even diplomacy. What they found instead was silence.

The village was gone.

Huts lay blackened, half-sunk in ash. The air stank of smoke and blood. Chickens lay split open in the dust beside the bodies of men, women, and children. Flies hung thick in the air.

And then came the laughter.

Down by the riverbank, the Sreli were celebrating. Pale-skinned, sharp-faced, their blue and white banners flapping as they danced among the corpses. They had painted themselves with the blood of the slain, streaks across their cheeks like blessings. One man was sawing off a hand with a dull knife. Another tossed a child's doll into the fire and laughed when it burned.

Venera's hand went to her sword. "By the gods..." she whispered.

Captain Virellus stepped forward. "Stop this!" His voice carried across the clearing, sharp as a blade. "These were people, not enemies."

The Sreli commander turned. His face was young, sunburned, eyes alight with something that wasn't madness ... conviction. "They were trespassers," he said proudly. "This land is ours now. The gods gave it to us. All that crawls upon it is ours to take or to kill. We are the chosen, and the chosen do not ask permission."

Kethra spat in the dirt. "Chosen by what? Greed?"

The man smiled thinly. "By destiny."

Before Virellus could answer, a sound cut through the clearing, a sob. Small, choked. From beneath a collapsed hut stumbled a boy, no older than five, his skin streaked with soot and tears. The Sreli turned as one, grinning.

"Another one!" one shouted. "Catch him!"

The boy ran. The Sreli charged after him, their laughter shrill.

"Stop!" Virellus shouted, but they didn't.

Gato moved first. He was gone before the others drew breath, a blur between the huts. The first Sreli dropped with a knife in his throat, the second with an arrow in the spine. Then the rest of the crew moved - Venera and Eira side by side, Ulfar roaring like thunder, Kethra's blades flashing silver. The clearing erupted in chaos.

The Sreli were disciplined, but they hadn't expected resistance. Their zeal met steel. Within minutes, the fight turned. A few of the Sreli fell, the rest broke, shouting curses as they fled toward the jungle.

"We'll return!" one of them screamed. "You'll burn with the rest when our kingdom comes!"

Then they were gone, their words carried off by the wind.

Selene ran to the boy, checking for wounds. From the edge of the forest, others emerged, villagers, smoke-streaked, bleeding, but alive. They gathered around her, clutching one another, speaking in hurried tones. One of the elders stepped forward, his hands trembling.

"You saved us," he said. "We will take the boy and flee inland, to a village deep in the jungle. They will shelter us."

Virellus nodded. "Go quickly. Don't come back."

The survivors bowed low before disappearing into the green.

For a long time, no one spoke. The smell of blood and ash hung heavy in the heat.

Virellus looked back toward the coast, where the Srel town could be seen in the distance. "Get back to the ship," he said. His voice was quiet, cold. "We're done here."

As the crew climbed aboard, the captain turned to Gato. "Sneak into the harbor," he said. "Burn it. Burn their stores, their ships, their gods. Burn everything that means anything to these murdering bastards."

Gato nodded once. "Looking forward to it, captain."

He vanished into the night, silent as smoke.

By the time dawn touched the sea, the Waverider was ready to sail. From the distance came a dull orange glow and the faint roar of flames. Gato climbed over the rail, soaked, grinning faintly, the scent of smoke thick on his skin.

Solonex stepped forward, hand outstretched to shake his. Then he stopped, pulled him into a rough embrace instead. "Good work," he said.

Gato nodded against his shoulder. "They won't build again soon."

The ship turned. Behind her, the Srel town burned, its flames licking the morning sky. The smell of smoke carried far, mingling with salt and silence, and the pillar of smoke could be seen for a long time. The Waverider turned her prow seaward.

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