Prologue: Smithe
Ten years since the death of Captain Flynn Blackwell
Smithe spat out a mouthful of sand.
I can stand frigid mountains, I can crawl through jungles filled with all manner of poisonous things, but this god’s damned desert may be my end.
Tiny grains of sand rubbed between Smithe’s fingers, drying out his skin, toughening his aged body even further. The old pirate ran his tongue through his mouth, attempting to wash away the sand in his teeth.
The Pirate Council had made it known that Captain Blackwell’s time was running out when they sent that letter.
You have until the death moon rises and falls to see Flynn’s old mission completed, if not, you will be stripped of the title of Pirate King, the letter read.
Soon, a new man would be elected to the role of Pirate King, and every seafaring man in Atlatia knew that Captain Julian Blackwell was far too prideful to withstand being dethroned.
Some whispered that The Pirate Council had sent men out to every corner of the world in search of Julian Blackwell, yet the Pirate King had shown no sign of worry. Julian pushed on stubbornly, with only his fathers last mission in mind.
As the sun set over the dunes of Faithhallow, Smithe grew weary. The donkey beneath him certainly grew weary, too, but the two of them trudged on into the desert’s orange sunset behind the rest of the crew.
“There! On the horizon!” Yelled the young Captain, Julian.
Smithe looked up, he squinted into the orange light, attempting to see through the fog of the sandy horizon. The outline of a tower climbing into the crimson red sky stood far in the distance.
“Ride on men!” The Captain said, trotting forward.
The pirates each gave their donkeys a kick to move forth. Smithe nodded to the blonde Quartermaster, and gave a knowing smile to the Healer; whose braids were speckled with sand.
The crew of The Sea Dragon had been bouncing between cities in the Southern Empire for months, bribing merchants and priests and faeries for information; and now, scouring the desert. The South had been kind to them, given them many a drink, many a jewel. But jewels were not what Captain Blackwell was after, no, the Captain wanted answers.
After failing the mission to no end, Captain Blackwell had drunkenly decided that what the crew needed was a Seer. Rare thing finding a true Seer in the age of men, but Smithe knew better than to argue, for he had spent the past ten years watching Julian search for answers.
As Smithe rode through the dusky desert, he wondered to himself if they would ever find the answers to what was written on that crystal tablet of old.
The pirates had whispered amongst themselves for years.
“Why does he still carry that thing around?”
“Can’t we just sell it for silver?”
“Do you think it might be cursed?”
Once again, Smithe knew better. He was old enough to remember the day that Captain Flynn Blackwell had fished the amethyst tablet out of the sea on the shores of Tarride and showed it to his wife and their little boy with delight.
Smithe was certainly old enough to remember the day that Flynn Blackwell had been killed by the royal guard of Rivermoor, and the days after that spent comforting and feeding little Julian, newfound Captain of the Sea Dragon. Ever since then, the boy Captain kept the tablet close.
Smithe wiped his brow of sweat and sand, he looked up to the pale tower in the middle of the desert.
The famed Lonai, order of the Seers of the South. It was just as ethereal as the tales had said it would be; an ivory stone tower climbing high into the clouds, engraved with swirls and forms that looked like sand on the wind itself. A faerietale come to life.
Captain Blackwell swung himself off his donkey, and told his men to share some of their water with the creatures. Smithe dismounted with less grace, sipped warm water, shared some with his mount, and waddled over towards the front of the crew.
“I wonder what his plan is now?” Bellamy, the ship’s Healer said as he brushed sand from his trousers.
Smithe shrugged in silence.
Lawrence, the ship’s Quartermaster, shook sand from his shirt and laughed, “I figure it’ll be the same as always, Bells. Act alone now, tell us later,” Lawrence winked.
Smithe shook his head, “The Cap’n has his ways, but he got us to the Lonai. Many men could only dream of such marvels.”
Julian commanded the crew to wait outside. He said that if he took too long, Lawrence should be the one to come look for him, and then, the young Captain unsheathed his sword.
Many men considered Julian Blackwell to possess unwavering bravery, but when Smithe saw him pause before the towering Lonai, he felt the Captain’s uncertainty. What might lay beyond the doors to the pale Seer’s tower, no man alive knew.
Julian used his free hand, and reached into his satchel. He fiddled around as the rest of the crew watched on. Since Smithe had known the boy forever, he knew Julian was running his fingers over the engravings on the amethyst tablet. He always did so when he needed comfort.
Smithe looked Julian in his deep brown eyes, framed by dark hair glowing in the orange light of the sunset. Julian caught the old pirate’s eye, and gave him a slight smile and a wink; before turning around and pushing open the bellowing stone doors of the Lonai. Within seconds, Captain Julian Blackwell had disappeared into the darkness of the famed desert tower, and all that was left to do was wait.
The crew waited in silence, passing around a pipe of greenleaf to quell their minds as they worried for their Captain. Finally, under a dusky purple sky, Julian exited the tower; a look of confusion and frustration cloaked his features.
Cries of relief from the crew sprang out.
“He did it!” Young Lonnie cried.
“What happened?” asked Lawrence.
Bellamy approached Julian, “Did you find the Seers?”
“By the gods,” Margrund exclaimed, “he’s done it!”
The crew crowded around their Captain. Julian sighed, then stalked over to Elchin, the ship’s white bearded cartographer, and whispered something in his ear. The old mapmaker silently fished out a scroll from his bag, passing it to the Captain.
Julian unravelled the large scroll of parchment, staring at the map with pensive eyes, “It would seem the Seers believe we are in the wrong corner of the world.”
A few groans came from the crew, but Julian just looked back down to the map. He ran a finger from the bottom corner of the parchment to the middle of the map a few times, “I will admit, I had it all wrong.” The Captain mumbled.
He flipped the parchment around. It was a sun bleached map of the entirety of Atlatia, all twelve Isles, painted in coloured ink.
“We must get ourselves back to Faithhallow immediately,” Julian placed his finger over the market port city on the southern tip of the Isle, “Then, we sail.” He moved his finger onto the turquoise of the Southern Sea, dragging it up to the pale blue Sea of Kings.
“For the sake of the holy nine Cap’n,” Smithe said, “what did they tell you in there?”
Julian paused with his finger on the centralmost Isle of Atlatia, Lunadira, the crescent shaped island in the centre of the world. “It matters not what they told me, Smithey old friend,” said Captain Blackwell, a devious smile crept across his face, “We are going to the Moon Isle.”
Chapter 1: Julian
A proper pirate does as their Captain says they should.
-Journals of Captain Flynn Blackwell
Julian Blackwell and the crew of the Sea Dragon reached Faithhallow at dawn, worn thin by sand and sweat, and the certain knowledge that the Pirate Council was not far behind.
Julian cared not, for whatever business the Council had with him could never be as valuable as his mission. His fathers mission, the amethyst tablet of old that sat in Julian’s satchel waiting for its secrets to be unravelled.
A green sparkle beetle whizzed by. The glittering bug buzzed forth, into the city of ancient secrets and spice. Julian watched the beetle as it danced into the crowded city, which somehow, was already bustling with life at dawn. Julian remembered his father had once told him that in the South, people rise as the sun does.
The sun is holy in the South, where the old gods are still respected, his father had said.
Julian hopped down from the donkey upon which he sat, “Dust yourselves off,” Julian turned to face his crew, “We make for Ruby cross port.”
As the sun rose, a pale pink light cloaked the streets, and Julian led his crew into the legendary city of Faithhallow. The pirates wove through streets of sandstone buildings with crumbled edges and faded paint. Faithhallow was a city older than most, and walking these aged streets, one could certainly tell.
The scent of the spice market filled Julian’s nose before he saw it. He nearly sneezed on the tiny flakes of red pepper powder floating in the air.
The market stalls crowded the road, rich coloured cloths draped over each stall to protect its goods. Men and women stood behind their stalls, each peddling a different manner of spiced food or fine tea or spice bag.
“I think we’ve made it to Epescia,” Lawrence said, coughing on the grains of pepper hanging in the air.
Julian nodded, “You’re talking like a local, Laurie.”
Bellamy inhaled deeply, “Gods, do you smell the peppered rice? What a divine place.”
“I don’t like peppered rice much meself,” Margrund huffed.
“You should count yourself lucky to eat any rice at all,” said Smithe.
Julian laughed under his breath.
After riding through the desert from dusk until dawn, Julian hardly had the strength to deny his men some food and steer them along to the docks with empty stomachs.
Morgannon’s mercy, Julian thought, I hardly have the strength to deny myself some of this delicious Southern market food.
Julian bought every crewman a stick of fried, spiced dough balls that were drizzled with some strange spicy honey.
When the crew had eaten, Julian led them forth into the crowds. Ruby Cross port was near, and he couldn’t afford to waste another moment. Not as he had wasted the past ten years.
The crew of The Sea Dragon wove through the bustling streets of Faithhallow, each square more loud and full of music than the next. They passed a square of dancers with jingling bells on their clothing, a square of drummers playing strong rhythmic music while the peasants watched on. They arrived at a square where a troupe of players acted out stories, and the people of Faithhallow watched on in amazement.
“Have a drink, men,” Julian said, “We shall soon reach port.”
The pirates sipped water from their flasks in the square of players.
In the center of the square, three women wearing faerie costumes danced together to the music of a drum. Behind them, were nine others, men and women dressed in strange fashions. A woman wore only pink fabric, a crown of hearts upon her head. One man wore golden jewels all over him, and a crown of sunrays sat on his head of curly black hair. Another with a blue sash and a trident.
These people are dressed as the gods, Julian realized.
One of the dancing faerie women spoke, “In the days of old, faeries ruled the earth, sirens ruled the seas, and the gods ruled the cosmos, ” Her hair was long and black, her skin olive and freckled. The woman wore a violet dress, and her fabric faerie wings swayed as she moved. “When the gods created man, they feared the havoc their creation could wreak, so the gods left the earth.”
The nine people dressed as the gods retreated into the crowd, disappearing. Julian could hardly pull his eyes away from the performance.
The women in faerie costumes continued to dance, the beat of the drums got faster.
“When the gods left the earth, men grew in greed and wrath,” she said, “and as time passed, men began to revolt against the faeries that ruled. The men claimed a false god, and took the faeries magic crystals for themselves.” The woman in the faerie costume revealed a stone painted in shiny silver and blue paint.
Then, a man dressed in ordinary battle gear tore the stone from her hand.
A child in the crowd yelled out, “The stones of the gods!”
The three women dancing as faeries halted to a pause, the dark haired one in the center knelt, “Fae fought man for decades, until men pushed us out of the center of the world, only to govern the South,” the woman looked at the crowd with eyes full of wonder, her gaze halted on Julian, and she met his eyes, “And though those men stole the land of the fae, the waters of the sirens, and the stones of the gods; there was one thing they could not steal.”
“What was it!” Yelled a drunken man in the crowd.
The woman in her faerie costume smiled, “True power. Not given by crowns or armies, but true magic, given by the gods.”
The drum music stopped. The three women in faerie costumes rose to a chorus of applause from the audience.
Julian cheered too, as did his entire crew.
Lawrence clapped Julian on the shoulder, “Quite a treat getting to watch the players before we return to sea,” he said.
“I’ve always loved watching the players,” Bellamy added as he took a swig of water.
“A treat indeed,” said Julian. He shoved his flask back into his satchel, his hand brushed over his fathers old amethyst tablet.
“Let us not waste time. Come on.”
As Julian turned to leave the square, the dark haired woman in the faerie costume appeared.
“How did you enjoy our story?” The woman asked, batting her dark eyelashes up at Julian.
Julian nodded, “It was wonderful. I quite enjoy stories of the days of old. You are very talented.”
The woman looked Julian up and down, “How long are you in Faithhallow?” She looked into his eyes, “I have other talents I could share with you, if you’d be inclined.”
Julian gave a smile, “Actually, we were just on our way out of port. Unfortunately, I was not born a luckier man.” Julian winked, gesturing to the crewmen behind him, and then to the bustling docks of Ruby Cross port in the distance.
The woman’s smile fell, “Oh, I see. Perhaps I could get your name at the very least?”
“Come on Cap’n, give the lovely lady yer name!” Smithe hollered from behind.
Julian knew he had no time for women, no time for romance, no time for sex; and he certainly had no time for pondering his lack of those three things. But he could at least be courteous and give the woman his name.
“I’m Julian.”
The woman smiled, “A northern name,” she batted her eyelashes once more, “Do you have a last name, Julian?”
Julian wasn’t particularly in the business of sharing his identity, not after that threat of a letter from the Pirate Council and the rumours that the Council now scoured Atlatia in search of him. But what harm could this woman do, for after all she was only a theatre player from Faithhallow.
Julian smiled, “My name is Julian Bla—”
“Blackwell.” A familiar, deep, voice said.
I’ll be damned, Julian thought.
As Julian turned around, his eyes met the gaze of Jack Goldeneye. The partial gaze, that is. Jack Goldeneye was a pirate of the council, a gangly Southern man with thick black curls, a beard to match, and a missing eye that had been replaced with a softened chunk of goldstone. Behind Jack, stood the crew of The Firebird, the notoriously lethal and loyal pirates that followed wherever Jack went.
Julian realized the girl from the players troupe had disappeared like sand on the wind. He smiled nervously, making quick eye contact with Lawrence, Bellamy and Smithe. Julian gave them a look that said, we must leave this place at once.
“Jack,” Julian said, “My oh my, how long has it been?”
Jack Goldeneye spat on the ground before Julian and his crew, “No false pleasantries today, Blackwell. You’ve evaded my letter.”
Julian’s heartbeat increased. He had certainly avoided the letter from the Pirate Council demanding that his fathers old mission be completed by the rise and fall of the Death Moon, but he wasn’t about to admit it.
Julian shrugged, “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking abou—”
Jack Goldeneye unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Julian’s neck, “Do not insult me Blackwell. For when the time comes to replace you as Pirate King, I’ll be first in line.”
Julian put a finger on Jack Goldeneye’s sword, pushing it away from his face.
“Oh Jack,” Julian grinned, “Lets not delude ourselves into thinking the rest of the council would vote for you.”
Jack Goldeneye looked at Julian with one furious dark eye, the other rolled and twitched with its gold rock in place of an eyeball.
“Enough.” said Jack Goldeneye, his voice grisled and dark. Jack turned to his crewmen, a group of stocky men carrying exotic weapons, “Let us eradicate Captain Blackwell and his men from the city of Faithhallow.”
Julian gestured to his crew to run. And they did.
Julian Blackwell and the crew of the Sea Dragon ran from Jack Goldeneye and the crew of the Firebird, rushing and jumping through the streets of Faithhallow.
Julian pushed through crowds of merchants and street women and the goats that followed their shepherds. He looked back to make sure the crew followed, and just as they were meant to, every pirate on his crew had followed, running for their lives as quickly as legs allowed.
Lawrence tripped over a barrel, and Bellamy helped him up.
“Come on!” Yelled Smithe.
The pirates pushed their way onto the docks of Ruby Cross port, with Jack Goldeneye close behind.
“You can’t run for long, Blackwell!” Jack yelled in the distance.
“This way!” Julian cried, leading his men towards their ship. He had never been happier to see The Sea Dragon in his life. Julian hopped over the rail, onto his ship.
“Come aboard and rig your sails, quickly!” Julian yelled through panting breaths.
The pirates began to hop aboard. Julian counted.
We have Lawrence, Bellamy, Smithe, Margrund, James, Marlon, Helmon, young Lonnie, Howell, Elchin and Merfun and Chent. The rest of the crew began to board and rushed to their posts. Julian ran up the stairs of the main deck onto the upper deck, and positioned himself at the helm.
He spotted Jack Goldeneye and his crew boarding The Firebird.
“Captain,” Lawrence yelled from the main deck, “It would seem that Goldeneye plans to chase us out of Faithhallow by sea.”
Julian smiled, placing his hands on the ship’s wheel, “If it is a sea chase that Jack wishes for, a sea chase he shall have.”
As the men of The Sea Dragon rigged their sails, the wind began pushing their ship out of port, and further out into the bright turquoise waters of the salty Southern Sea.
BANG!
Julian looked up to see a smoking hole in the sail above him. He looked to the starboard side of his ship, and saw the red and yellow sails of The Firebird blazing along beside the plum and amber sails of The Sea Dragon.
“You can outrun me, Pirate King,” Jack Goldeneye yelled, “Perhaps you can outsail me too,” Jack raised his pistol, “But even the gods know you’ll never outshoot me.”
Jack fired another bullet at the Sea Dragon. This time it left a small dent in the ship’s bow.
Julian looked to the main deck, “Margrund!” He yelled, “Man the cannons!”
The red bearded master at arms complied, and rushed belowdeck to attend to the cannons.
Two more gunshots fired at the Sea Dragon. One of them missed Lawrence by two inches, lodging itself into a wine barrel. The second grazed one of Bellamy’s braids.
“God’s damned Council,” Bellamy said as he fixed his hair.
“Smithe!” Julian yelled.
Smithe looked up, “Aye, Cap’n.”
Julian held a hand out, “My gun, if you please.”
Smithe reached to his belt, and pulled out Julian’s pistol. He stood sideways and tossed the gun through the air. Julian caught it swiftly, and spun it around in his hand.
He looked to the starboard side of his ship, where Jack Goldeneye and the crew of the Firebird began to approach.
Julian aimed his pistol at the helm of Goldeneye’s ship, he fixed his eyesight on the wheel, right below Jack’s hands.
He shot the bullet straight into the ship’s wheel. It lodged itself right where Julian had hoped it would, knocking The Firebird off course. Jack Goldeneye looked up in disbelief as his ship floated awry in the shallows.
Julian smiled, sheathed his gun at his hip, and returned to steering.
“Outshoot me all you want Goldeneye,” Julian yelled, “You’re outwitted either way.”
“You won’t get away with this Blackwell, the council will have your title and your head!” Jack yelled.
Julian laughed, waving a hand through the air nonchalantly.
“You always were so imaginative.” Julian grinned, “But last I checked, I’m still the Pirate King, and the council will do as I command.”
The Sea Dragon had nearly passed The Firebird, but Jack Goldeneye raised his pistol once more, aiming it at Julian.
“You shan’t be Pirate King for long.” Jack Goldeneye shot at Julian, but missed. The bullet hit the starboard quarter.
Julian shook his head, “I was hoping to leave our squabble here, but you give me no choice.” Julian shrugged, “Margrund!”
A few seconds later, a whizzing cannonball flew into the front of The Firebird, decimating its port bow into smithereens.
The crew of The Sea Dragon cheered as their ship passed the enemies. Julian smiled, satisfied with his victory. Julian could hardly pretend he did not delight in a won battle, especially with the men that were threatening his place as Pirate King.
Soon they will have nothing left to whine about, for I will finally see this mission done, Julian thought.
Soon I will reach Lunadira. Soon I will decipher fathers tablet, and it will all have been worth it. The fighting, the gunshots, the lies.
As Julian sailed into the expanse of the salty Southern sea, he told himself that this was what he must do.
Father willed it, and he was my Captain, and a proper pirate does as their Captain says they should.
Chapter 2: Julian
Two moons later
We have set course for a new frontier, sailing the salty Southern Sea, for what is a man without a great adventure on his horizon?
-Journals of Captain Flynn Blackwell
Scalding water exploded from all sides of the ship, spraying the crew with slimy sea kelp that smelled of brine and rot. Julian knew it would cost him, approaching Lunadira from the East, but the arrogance of a Pirate is a flame not easily snuffed out by logic.
Julian’s cheeks warmed as hot water and tiny shards of rock shot up from every direction. He smiled in the face of the explosions. After all, he had just narrowly escaped the Pirate Council, and spent weeks sailing nearly half the world’s oceans; a few blasts from the sea wouldn’t be his end.
Tiny shards of sea stone hit the sails, crashing onto the deck like hail. Violent bursts of water and heat erupted on either side of The Sea Dragon, beginning and ending in the ocean’s chaotic drumbeat. Julian knew he would live, for this ship had seen him through countless attacks, and storms so deadly they could have been waged by the gods.
The weight of the crystal tablet in his satchel tugged at his shoulder, and Julian glanced down at its purple glow through a tear in the leather. The crash of the sea endured. Julian squinted, steering.
Julian cleared his throat, “All men above deck now!” he yelled.
A flash of blonde hair whizzed by, “More hands starboard, men! All hands on deck!” Lawrence’s voice reeked of exhaustion.
The rest of the crewmembers of the Sea Dragon shuffled to their posts, gulping down what may have been their last sips of brandy if not for the Captains eternal luck.
Julian took a deep breath. He wiped the saltwater from his face, and licked his lips hoping to rid his tongue of the tang of rum.
The sea-torn men scrambled to their posts and viciously adjusted their ropes and sails, in hopes of surviving the wrath of the waters of Lunadira. The explosions persisted. They boomed on the left, then the right, tossing the ship around as if it were a gamepiece.
“Aye men, there will be no rum in the darkness of the briny deep,” said Julian, his face covered in a smile far too relaxed for the condition he found himself in, “Work with your backs and pray that the sea god lets you see another day.”
A chunk of rock flew by Julian as his face was met with water that struck like fire.
“Perhaps the gods are angry with us,” Lawrence said as he unraveled a crumpled map from his pocket, “I believe we are crossing Morgannons Canyon, Captain.”
Julian paused and lazily wiped his brow of seawater, he hadn’t planned for the myths of the moon isle to be true.
Why must the myths always have to come true, Julian thought.
The Sea Dragon and her crew now passed through an area of godlike creation, a canyon deep below full of gigantic sea volcanoes. Julian remembered the story of Morgannons Canyon, the deep sea valley of exploding volcanoes created by the Sea God. Julian scanned the explosions and continued to steer as he watched his men struggle along.
When Julian had strolled into the city of Faithhallow and found the Seers order in the desert, a strange cloaked woman had told him, “Travel to the Great Crescent, for there you may find the eldest of them all. What was once bound in greed, can only be unbound by love. There you will find what you seek.”
It sounded as much like a Seers truth as an herb induced hallucination, though Julian had believed he was right to heed her advice; until the gods forged death volcanoes.
As he steered through the eruptions, Julian pondered the last ten years, wondering if perhaps his father had sent him on a fool’s errand with his last breaths. He ran a finger over the engraved tablet in his satchel. The crystal tablet made of amethyst, covered in its tiny swirled markings; had been found after a storm, a distant fifty years ago. Perhaps it truly was a curse.
The tale of Julian’s fathers discovery was his favourite story as a child. On the rocks of the Isle of Tarride, Captain Flynn Blackwell of the Sea Dragon emerged from historically colossal waves, and stumbled upon a crystal plate of amethyst engraved with ancient markings in the language of the gods. The Captain took it for himself, as any proper pirate would upon finding such a treasure. After the Sea Dragons departure from Tarrides shores, the Captain and his crew only befell foul luck on a handful of occasions. Some said the Captain had been blessed by the tablet. Some called it magic.
It was now a tale known amongst Pirates who were raised by Pirates, though the story did not truly end at this joyous revelation, Julian reminded himself; for Captain Flynn Blackwell’s luck ran out the day he was killed.
Julian realized he was staring at the bloodstained wooden deck below him. An ugly reminder of how the story went. He steered on, and the blasts of Morgannon’s canyon began to grow distant.
“Ahoy, port’s ahead as the crow flies!”
Surely as Lawrence had said, about a mile ahead of the Sea Dragon was the famed, crescent shaped island of Lunadira. Sandy shores and green palms dappled the horizon.
Julian continued to steer ahead into the Aquamarine shallows, every gust of wind that brushed his face echoed his fathers words.
I know you can find its meaning, my boy. Uncover its mysteries, and bring it back to where it belongs.
As Julian steered towards Lunadira’s shores, a giant golden pink fishtail, the size of a shark, splashed in the shallows below. It sparkled so brightly the shine was nearly blinding. Julian smiled, remembering his favourite folktales from childhood. He looked down to his forearm. The once fresh siren tattoo was now faded and green, speckled with sun and hair and scars. As the giant golden pink fish below took to the depths, the voices of merchants and sailors got louder.
The Sea Dragon was approaching port.
Dead Man’s Bay, Seafarers be warned, was painted in red on a wooden sign nailed to the beach, and as they got closer to the docks, Julian understood why. The shallows of the beach were littered with the bones of sailors.
Julian steered towards Dead Mans Bay, the bustling port ahead. The surrounding ships were mostly those of pirates, with tattered flags and battle worn hulls. Smaller skiffs were often in these kinds of ports too, and as always on the Isles of Kings, some royal ships dotted the docks nearest what was clearly the nicer part of town. Merchants unloaded cases of wine and silks onto the docks, while common men traded silver for stock. As they anchored and took in the smells of fresh fish, ale and burning herbs, Julian addressed the crew.
“Aye men, we have reached Lunadira at last!” A resounding cheer came from the crew. “We may now indulge in the lands finest,” Julian gestured to the bustling town of colorful buildings, “the city of Mirrenorre.” The continuous whooping from the Sea Dragons men got louder, and Julian cleared his throat, “This visit will be unusual in nature. Law breaking is not encouraged, and will be met with repercussions.”
The cheering turned into a silent confusion.
An echo of argumentative retorts came from the crew,
“That’s not fair!” whined Lonnie, the crew’s youngest.
Margrund grumbled, “Does he seriously expect us to pay for things?”
Julian laughed to himself, then stepped forward. Silence fell.
“Men, we are here on a mission. The mission. I shall see no antics until that mission is complete. If we can finally pull this off we’ll take two weeks vacation in Straida Saluna.”
Some crewmembers began nodding slowly.
“We will pay for everything with silver, and we will be kind to barmaids, merchants, courtesans, and innkeeps,” said Julian. Many “Aye’s” were heard from the crew. “Now that we have understood each other,” he gestured to the city before them, “let us go fill our bellies as I scout the mission. Welcome to Lunadira.”
The pirates all dispersed to tend to their effects. Julian watched as Bellamy, the ship’s healer, ruffled Lawrence’s blond hair and kissed his cheek.
At least some of my crew is happy, he thought.
While the men collected their belongings and filed onto the docks, Smithe, the Sea Dragons oldest crewmember, began lecturing the Captain.
“Ya know, boy, Flynn wouldn’t want ya to waste your days. Gods be with ya, don’t overdo it young Blackwell.”
Julian adjusted his hat, “Smithey, you remember a few years back, in the Sea Lord’s tavern, when everyone took the vote?”
The old man nodded, exposing the bald patch on his head of grays, “Course I remember, Cap’n.”
Julian tossed Smithe a gold coin, which he caught, “Those pirates didn’t vote for a man who breaks the code, did they?”
Smithe silently shook his head.
“I won’t have my promises to my Captain be forgotten in vain so I might waste my life stumbling from tavern to brothel,” Julian said.
The old pirate laughed, “You’re the Captain, lad. You’re the Pirate King, for Morgannon’s sake.”
Julian gave a wry smile, “Come on Smithey, you know if I don’t see it done, the Pirate Council will dethrone me. Hell, they’ve already sent doves and letters to threaten it. I can’t have any more of that.”
Smithe shrugged, “Would it be so bad, just being known as Julian Blackwell, a man free of titles, a man free to sail wherever he may wish?”
Julian nodded, “Yes, Smithey. It would be so bad.”
Smithe shook his head, “Stubborn and prideful, like your father.” Smithe sheathed a dagger at his side, “You could at least try to do something for yourself while we’re here,” Smithe gestured to the colourful, sprawling town of Mirrenorre, “Perhaps commission a new sword. I hear Lunadiran metalsmiths are quite impressive.” Smithe winked, picked up his guns, and waddled off the ship’s deck onto the docks of Mirrenorre.
Perhaps a new sword was just what Julian needed. He needed something to dedicate himself to that wasn’t this god’s damned tablet, and a shiny new sword would work just fine.
As he stepped off the docks of Dead Mans Bay and into the cobbled and colourful City of Mirrenorre, Julian felt a shred of hope that this city, this island might finally be the one to rid him of that cursed tablet of old; and finally bring honor to his father. Perhaps Julian could finally redeem himself. Perhaps he could be truly worthy of being called the Pirate King.
Lawrence and Bellamy led the crew onto a stone road with their arms around one another. The road was surrounded by a square of pastel stone buildings, lopsided and crooked in their nature, and dappled with rusty roofs. Julian walked beside the pirate lovers.
Lawrence nudged Julian in the side, “With all due respect— Captain, what is the plan?”
Julian paused for a moment, “Keep open ears about anything related to the old gods and their forgotten language. Anything ancient. Texts, maps,” he whispered, “We might seek the royal archives.”
Lawrence nodded and mumbled something to himself.
The townspeople eyed the pirate crew as they passed, assessing which type of trouble they might be. The people of Mirrenorre were dressed in robes of jewel tones, all manner of hats and boots, frilled lace skirts and leather corsets paired with hats like those worn by pirates.
An odd ton.
Lawrence looked at Julian with a sly grin, acknowledging the oddity of the place. Julian knew that look, the quartermaster was about to do something utterly stupid.
Lawrence held out his arm to halt the path of the crew, and cocked his head to the curious onlookers, “The Pirate King has arrived in Lunadira.”
