Avrok knew Kells. He had never spoken to one—had never even been on the same battlefield as one—but as a twice-docked dreg of House Kings, oh, how he knew Kells. Kells were stronger, faster, smarter. In other words: They had better resources. Ate better, slept safer, lived longer. They were like Guardians in that way. Avrok had had enough of both. He stopped bringing all his salvage to his Captain. They didn't notice. And if they did, it's not like they could have cut his Ether rations any more without killing him. Nothing left to lose. He built his ship piece by piece in a gully far away from prying eyes. When the Awoken Prince arrived, he knew a distraction when he saw one. While the Kell mocked his newest prisoner, Avrok made his escape. He flew his ship to the Tangled Shore. Starving and weak, he stood before the one they called the Spider. Offered his ship as a sign of his good will. Spider rubbed his chin, an alien gesture. "What is it called, your ship?" Avrok lifted his chin, looked Spider directly in the eyes. "Death to Kells." Spider hired him on the spot.