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"Father, could you tell me the story again?"
"I shall, but first, I have a question."
"Yes?"
"Have you ever truly believed in the truth of these stories?"
"Well, Father, I have doubted it in the past. However the more you tell me these stories and the more detailed they get overtime, the more they become impossible to doubt."
"Good. As a man telling a story one believes is shrouded in lies becomes a myth." The Father continued, "However, in my case, I wish for you to keep it as a myth, and nothing more. Instead of a lie shrouded in lies, make a lie shrouded in truth."
"To begin, remember this was how I met your mother..."14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdjSEy1rpmI
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The year, 1668. Imagine, if you will, awakening to a blunderbuss and a flintlock shoved down your gullet.14Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU2xLvi8Aex
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"Where is your father?!" The man screamed into the boy's ear. the boy, attempting to speak through the Blunderbuss and flintlock gags and throws up all over the barrels.
"God damnit!" The man says, pulling the two weapons out of the kids throat. "Where. Is your Father?!" He asks again.
"I don't know!" The kid yells, wiping off the throw up from his lips. The man sat there, both weapons still drawn. He wore a dark red robe with an oddly shaped black embroidered on the shoulders, along with black boots with the same shape in a red tint. Not just that, but under the robe was a near black shade of blue, and on his head he had two thin red sticks above his ears, both about the length of the ear.
"Your father has some talking to do." The man says, holstering his blunderbuss, looking away but keeping his flintlock drawn. "If you don't have any information for me, go and get. Scram. I have no interest in threatening an infant. Not further anyway."
"I am 5!"
"An infant." The man hastily responds.
The kid makes a hasty getaway through the door and makes a bolt for his fathers study in the nearby tavern. "Father! There was a man at home!" The kid yells, running up the stairs. The father swings the outer door open, as both of them hear a loud crash and the sound of wood being put under pressure.
"Now I am here. Making my rounds." The man said on the railing of the staircase, sitting in a perch pose.
"You followed him here!" The Father shouts. "You used a child!"
"No harm was done Sir Dan. Maybe a muzzle down one's throat, but no true harm." The father immediately turned and reached for his side pistol. "No can do." The man said as he pulls out a pistol from his right holster, and fires a shot, knocking the pistol out of the father's hand.
"This is underhanded-"
"Isn't that the whole business Sir Dan?" The man says, leaping from the fence, reaching for the father's face. "If that was the whole business, we would stand for nothing but a false sense of pride." The father says.
"Still one for wise quotes Sir? You quite disappointed me, leaving for a child. Maybe a clean bullet to his brain would change your horrible pride and dignity." The man says as he reaches for his 4th holster, and on good authority, one could assume it be a pistol or flintlock.
"No!" The father yells as he stands in front of the boy. Then the man fully reaches for the gun and pulls out a gun handle, and throws it over to the father.
"Now don't make me use the blunderbuss, as that you know wont stop at your body." The man says. "Tell me. Why leave us for your son, damaging your health for a simple kid?"
"It is simple. He was to be born and if I stayed with you all, you take my son and turn him into a killing machine, needing murder in order to sustain himself just like me and so many others. I agree with all beliefs except the one that contracts next of kin to follow in the father's example."
"Come with me and leave the kid. Then we may leave him be." The man says.
"You will leave him be."
"We may."
"Say you will or I go nowhere."
"We may, and I will make you go somewhere.
The man reaches for his blunderbuss and, over the shoulder, points it at the father and the boy.
"Leave the boy and come with me or you both die. It is your choice sir, and that choice has a clear answer."
"You will leave him be."
They sat there at a standstill for a minute. "You know I can't do that." The man says.
"You will leave him be." The father says once more. "If I bring you back, I have to give them all the details of your daily tasks since I started watching you at the beginning of the day. I, unlike you, follow orders."
"Unless..." The man contemplates.
"Unless?" The father asks.
"If I brought you back dead, they may only ask how you died. Then I could simply say I shot you in the brain outside your study. Bringing your son into the picture would have no purpose for me to disclose and it wouldn't break my rules." The man says, leaning against the fence. "Give up Sir Dan."
"You promise me you wont disclose my son."
"I promise."
"You will leave him be."
"I will."
The father stands straight up and grabs the blunderbuss and shoves it against his forehead. "Go son. Please."
The boy, still frozen in fear, finally takes a grasp on the situation.
"Father. Please!"
"Go. Now. Please my son. Please Claud. Go."
Claud nods his head as he bolts down the stairs and down the road until he hears a gunshot ring through his ears as everyone starts to scatter and run from the inn.
"It's Dan! It's him, in front of his study, no mistaking it. Yet, one not knowing it's his study could easily make the mistake for the lack of head."
The year, 1678, and Claud, 15. 10 years ago when his father died, he was left to fend for himself at home. eventually Claud lost his home shortly after losing his father and was left to tend for the fields to make a living. just as he became 12 he started fishing to sell at local markets, and has been doing this since then for 3 years.
"Fish, freshly caught!"
"Best price in Petit Goâve!"
2 years after his father's death, Petit Goâve became a large place of interest for pirates, and Claud was a common seller and buyer of fish that pirates would bring in.
"Aye Claud! Haven't seen you for a while! How's business?"
"Ah, going well de Graff! How are you?"
"Great! Good to know you're doing well, see you in future years!"
Claud politely waved Laurens de Graff off as Claud stared down at the reales de Graff left him.
"Thank you!" Claud shouted.
The year, 1681. Claud had finally become an adult. He was now 18, yet was still so uneducated on his father. For the past two years, he had been spending a good portion of time trying to find info on his fathers connection with the group that killed him.
"God damnit Father, why make it more difficult for me?" He said digging through his fathers drawer. Just then, Claud got up and nicked the side of the drawer
"Ch, ch ch Aye, god damnit that hurt." Just then, Claud looked up at a drawing his father had made as it fell of the drawer and fell on the floor.
Knock
The sound was odd. It sounded as if the other side of the floor was hollow. Claud grabbed the piece of wood the drawing hit and tore it out of the floorboards before Claud found a box.
"Father... What is this?" Claud reached for the hatch, unlatched the box and slowly lifted it open. Just like the man, it was a few red robes with the same patches on it, and inside the box also was similar style boots, except slightly different in style and shape.
Just then, he found a note.
"Father..."
The note read, "I don't know who'll read this. It could very well be you son. But this note contains all the info you may need if you want power. However, your power you seek may come at the cost of the people you care the most about in life. Now if this is you son, I do not mind if you follow my footsteps. But know that you must never allow your children to be forced into following your footsteps. If they follow you of their own will being, great. However do not let them be forced to by them."
The note continued, "I was part of a group known as the Sicaretro, pronounced "See-Cah-Ret-Troh," and they are a group of people who's entire goal in life is to kill people who threaten the groups authority and power, or their goal is to be put into places of power within government to increase their standing. We are a group of trained assassins and spies with the purpose of giving us power so that we can stop others from abusing it. Think of it as we are the government of government officials. We make sure that the government is not corrupted by corrupting it ourselves with spies to watch on the rest of the government. Sounds confusing, I know. Now, if you wish to join them, head to this location, and if there is nothing there, it is because they packed up the moment they saw you coming. Now good luck, and take my robes with you, but know that they will be suspicious of you on arriving. Now truly, I wish you the best, and know this phrase: I would have hung myself if I was not you. It will come in handy.
The ending came confusing to Claud, but after reading everything and looking at the map, he read something below the map.
"I'd recommend going there prepared with weaponry. If you have nothing, save up money for something.
Now it was once again time for Claud to get back to working constantly now that he'd finally found a point in his investigation, finally a clue.
"Father. Now that I know what group you were part of, I have made my decision. I shall join them, but it's not that simple. I will join them, climb up the ranks, and order an execution on your killer before I destroy the whole group." Claud says as he reaches for a still in pristine shape knife on the desk, and gently taps the bottom of the handle.
"I already have this weapon, but as he says, I'll need more." Shortly after tapping the bottom of the knife, a dart came shooting out the bottom, and then Claud promptly picked up the dart and looked at the tip. "Coated with my homemade poison. Will come in great hand.
The year, 1683. Two years since the discovery of the box, with everything still hidden inside until Claud has the weapons he deems fit. And he is, in fact, in the process of purchasing them now.
"Two flintlocks and a musket."
"A musket? You sure sir? A musket and two flintlocks seems a bit much and an odd pairing, and that's regarding the difficulty of holding those 3, plus the price-"
"I said, two flintlocks and a musket.
"Yes sir."
Claud walked off with an odd setup. He had a musket on his back with both his flintlocks at his hips in holsters. Just prior a month ago, he also bought a pirates cutlass that he wore on his rear, strapped using a belt buckle. He looked odd, but with every weapon he had on him along with his build, he was terrifying. Yet, he didn't even have his outfit on.
Claud during the two years had also done minor modifications to his fathers outfit. the patches on his shoulders were changed and given a pirate's symbol in the middle instead of two weird circle and axe shapes. Claud put them on, and looked down at the boots, which had no visible change in the logo.
"Wish me luck father." Claud said, putting on these red gloves he made that also had strong black leather on the wrist section.
"I shall not just avenge you, but give myself more of a purpose than I have felt in 15 years."
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