The flagship of the Black Sugar cut smoothly through waters that were, to Pirate Cookie’s endless frustration, entirely too calm. The sea near the Crème Republic’s borders was notoriously well-patrolled, leaving a distinct lack of targets or overall fun.

Pirate Cookie leaned heavily against the gilded rail of the quarterdeck. His golden peg leg tapped irritatingly against the wood, and his hook hand swished idly, catching the sun.

"This is not how the Sea Overlord should spend his afternoons," he grumbled, taking a long, deep swig from a heavy pewter flask he kept tucked into his coat. "Almost wish we could go back to pillagin'."