Note: Okay so. I tried to write something small and it blew out and I can't get it to go down. This has never happened to me before.
But here is an... idea of a piece. I don't expect to place. But I did write this for you. So here you are.
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Prolgue
He felt guilty. The weight crushed him like a falling boulder from a great height. All he had done. All he was planning to do. Never before had he felt so. He had loved his life. Had loved the way it called him, caressed him.
Now he longed for her touch. Now he would rip up his Calling Card and present it to her. He was her spoils. All he had and all he could be he lay before her. And yet. He was dirty. Stained so nothing could wipe it off. No tide could smooth his edges. He was what he was. And so he would be. Shattered was his pride before her. A pirate chased after every shiny glint in the sea. Yet now knew what was sunlight against the sea, and what was priceless.
He had found his treasure chest. Her eyes were sapphires, her lips rubies. Her hair priceless mahogany. Her touch was worth more than any gold. Yet here he lay. Broken from deed. A betrayal so deep not even the deepest, darkest sea could bury the shame. But the guilt would be his. Her safety would be guaranteed.
Besides.
Who could really love a pirate?
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Beginnings:
He sighed, looking up and down the empty cells that lined the hull of the ship. Blood crusted door handles, filth marked cots. The smell alone reminded him of battles fought up and down the coast. He had won of course – but a stench was a stench.
He remembered every face that had stared back at him, obscured by the bars. Every hopeless look, every maddened scream. He ran a chicken bone across the bars in thought, the brass ring on his left-hand flickering in the lamp light. He had of course delighted in the merchants screams. The gold ship’s captain’s shriek. He had heard every cry, every bargaining chip. And cashed in as many as he could. He was what he was.
Alrighty, then.
Walking to the end of the corridor he pressed a ring-adorned finger against a blood splattered wooden slat. It easily pressed in, pushing the door wide to reveal a small walk-in wardrobe.
Inside was an array of silver embroidered tunics, navy uniforms, plumed hats… endless ring stashes.
He dressed quickly, taking off his eyepatch and placing it down. He affectionately patted his favorite bandana with his crew’s flag before turning and walking out. Up the stairs towards to the deck. He casually waved at the lookout and kept walking towards his first mate waiting for him by the rowboat.
“What a pretty sight, Captain.” The burly Greek grinned, dipping his head in a mock bow.
“Yes, yes. Let’s be about before the moon climbs the sky.”
“Aye,” Athedius grinned, nodding his farewell to the ship. “Let’s be about.”
-OoO-
The rich wood of the dining table caught the light from the gigantic chandelier above their heads. Goblets of wine adorned the table, each carved with the family name around the rim. Though off his ship, you would never think him out of place. He smiled around a mouthful of veal, nodding his head at his brother beside him. His father sat at the head of the table, admiring his children seated before him. He stood, a fat cat looking at his fat brood.
“My children, thank you for coming to our annual family dinner. Your mother and I love seeing each of your six faces. As you know this night marks Mirah’s fifteenth birthday. At the stroke of midnight, we shall see what her talent shall be!”
Mirah smiled shyly from her place near the top of the table. Before her a white card rested by her wine goblet. It slightly shimmered, as though a pool of invisible water rippled on its surface.
Everyone knew what would happen. At the stroke of midnight, her Calling Card would illuminate and change colour. Green, purple, silver, blue, gold. Green being of average talent, to gold of immense talent. But the words of the card could only be read by the holder of the Calling Card and the clergy.
This had prevented many a war. A king held a king card. A blacksmith held his. Merchants bore children bearing merchant calling cards. As did knights and bakers. Your place in the world was easy to fill as you were given your strengths, weaknesses and calling on your card. Some fulfilled it greater than others, but such was the world.
A small smirk rested then melted away on the captain’s lips. What if, by some chance of fate, his little sister Mirah came across what he had all those years ago. What if she wasn’t to be a merchant like the rest? What if she saw a flash of gold, excited expectation clear on her face as she beheld something much deeper and darker.
For he was no merchant.
Of course he told his father he indeed was. He had smiled and weathered the praise about him. He had captained a small merchant ship in name only. But when he beheld the open sea, his true calling sang out of his chest.
Pirate.
A golden pirate to be exact. For what is truly the difference between a sea merchant and a pirate? Both take your gold. Both will pay for information. Both will swindle and lie.
But one perhaps, relishes in the blood covered, piss-soaked gold that sparkled with its own merit.
Keenly he watched his sister, as he had the rest. He remembered his first kill. How his blood sung, the calling card in his pocket vibrating with bloody mirth. His first torture. His first raid across the coast. He easily held as much land as a king, land stretching across the continent like a patchwork quilt.
Mirah’s Calling Card shivered. It glowed. The table grew still. From bottom to top the card changed colour. Like the tide slowly swallowing the beach, everyone watched it change from white to green, to startling silver.
Mirah gingerly picked it up, narrowing her almond shaped eyes to read what only her eyes could see.
“Merchant.” She smiled, the rouge on her lips smudged from eating. The family clapped.
“I hope the market can bear another one of us!” his brother remarked, “speaking of, how goes your travels, Dominic?”
“Yes, do tell Nicky!” His sister added, “you are the only one of us who decided to go by sea than land.”
“Oh,” he said, remembering with fondness the cannons slamming into a galley ship, “it’s been a smashing good time.”
-oOo-
She posed a problem. A big one.
His second mate raised his eyebrows as he watched his captain pace up and down his quarters. Alyria Quartz. Only daughter of the Quartz empire, beloved by half the continent. Family friends of his family.
He continued to prowl up his chambers, mulling over his options.
She had not flown the Quartz flag. A flag that would’ve ensured her safety because no one – not even him – was mad enough to engage the wrath of the Quartz empire.
Yet she hadn’t. And so, he attacked. Killing more than a third of her crew. He had called in his men when he saw the few soldiers with the insignia on their uniforms.
But it was too late. And now here he was, hiding from a woman who knew him by name.
Swearing an oath learnt from the cold islands in the north, he marched over to his map table. Using some charcoal, he drew a scar across his face, then smudged some across his cheeks, dirtying his face. Then he stormed out of his quarters and down into the brig.
In the low light he saw her standing proudly in the cell. She cut quite a figure, watching him with those keen blue eyes. She wore tailored trousers and an emerald green over jacket. Knee high boots kept the muck from her clothes, she had braided her hair and pinned it with emerald pins. Striking. Beautiful. Irritating.
He adopted a slight hunch, cutting his gait.
“Oh, come now. I saw you attack my ship. I know you’re not some pocked old man.” She laughed. “I assume I am alive because either you smell obvious money, or you know who I am.”
“Why didn’t you fly your colours?” He growled, straightening. “No man alive would attack a quartz ship on purpose.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she pulled a napkin out of a pocket and wiped a spot on the bars. She leaned in closer so her cheeks brushed the metal.
She looked up at him, “I’m here to find you, Dominic”
A string of curses burst out of him. She simply waited.
“How did you know I would be here?” He yelled, “That is an incredibly dangerous ruse. If your father –”
“He doesn’t know. Because he is missing. And I need a man straddling the line to find him.”
“How did you find me?”
She pulled out a golden Calling Card out of her pocket, tilting her head, “because my occupation is a complicated one.”
“What is it?”
She bit her lip in thought, before meeting his gaze again. Something flickered in her eyes. Like lighting breaking into the sea. “Foreseer.”
The oath he made was such a forced grunt he almost spat at her. “Get. Off. My. Ship. If I must throw you into a rowboat.”
A smug grin covered her features as she watched him. “You won’t do that.”
“And why not?”
She tapped her Calling Card before shrugging. “A little bird told me.”
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