“What is your name, by the way?” Vreil asked their elf captive as they lowered their new submarine through the bloody waters.

“I'm Pier”, the elf replied without looking, his gaze lost among a myriad of buttons, levers, and twinkling screen readings.

What weird magic...

“Strange name. I am Vreil, and these are Milos, Nigel, and Arthur. We might have been happier to meet you under different circumstances, Pier.”

“Pier is a common name among the elves. My last name is Aberleigh, you can call me that. Everyone else does”, the elf half-smiled and tried to make conversation, probably in the hopes that they wouldn't kill him afterward.

“I think I will go with Pier. It’s much easier to remember and I don’t think I will see that many elves in my life.”

Vreil did his best to laugh, but it came out forced. They had just chosen to abandon Fred, even though he’d been kind to them. He felt awful, to say the least. They all did. But he would make the same decision again if he had to. Vreil wasn’t willing to put someone he barely knew over his family’s revenge.

The other three were also decisive people, each in their own way. Since they had made a decision, they would put the matter in the back of their minds until the time was proper.

“Okay, we have reached an acceptable depth. Now someone has to move the membranes”, spoke the elf once the submarine approached the bottom of the sea.

“How do we do that?” asked Nigel, speaking for the first time since entering the submarine.

“All you have to do is move these four levers you see here up and down. I will guide us. Where do you want to go?”

“Inside the pirate base.”

“Inside?” Pier laughed, patting the bronze machine next to him. “This thing can only move underwater. How are we supposed to get in the base?”

“There is an underwater passage, isn’t there?” smirked Vreil, knowingly.

Pier’s smile froze, and his eyes narrowed. “You are not some random kids, are you?”

“We are not paying you to ask questions, Pier. By the way, what weapons does this ship have?”

“I guess my life is a good salary”, he smiled in self-deprecation. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any weapons.”

Vreil stared at Pier. “Then how were you going to help the pirates?”

“By intimidation and transportation. Our ships need to be very light, so they can only carry up to twenty men. This one is bigger, it could take forty. Of course, weapons like catapults are out of the question. The best we can do in battle is stand on top of the submarine and shoot arrows”, he laughed.

So the elven ships were just a distraction, mused Vreil. Then their real goal must have been to attack our flagship.

“So eighty men against our flagship and its entourage ships…” Vreil furrowed his brows. “I don’t see that working well for you.”

The elf shrugged, not wanting to agitate his captors, but they could guess his reply. If the pirates attempted this attack, they must have had confidence in succeeding. Who knows how many of their strongest warriors they sent? How many of the four remaining Swords?

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As they were hurtling through dark waters, equally dark thoughts were in their minds.

For a time, the four of them were silently moving the levers up and down while Pier was steering the ship. The waters were dirty that day so the small glass windows on the sides of the ship didn’t reveal much, but the little that they did show was enough to understand that they were moving. There was another big window at the front but, from the position they were in, only Pier could see through that. Suddenly, the water outside the windows turned pitch black.

“It’s the shadow of the rocks, we just entered the passage. Relax”, said Pier, reading their uneasiness. A little while later, that darkness was replaced by weak light, and Pier told them they could stop rowing. He pulled some levers himself and the ship surfaced, breaking through the water and out into the air.

They stepped out of the traphole at the submarine’s top, taking Pier with them so he couldn’t escape with the ship. They were in a cave, surrounded by damp, glistening rocks, and in front of them lay the entrance of a tunnel from which a small air current could be felt. There were torches burning around the pool of water in which they had surfaced, and they grabbed one for their own use.

They then started walking through the tunnel, following its upward slope and hoping that they wouldn’t walk into a trap.

The ambient humidity formed drops of water on their skin, making them all shiver.

The tunnel ended at a wooden door and, twisting the knob, they saw a long corridor stretching to the left and right. Incidentally, the door’s other side was painted to look like the rocks around it. It would be hard to spot it if they didn’t know exactly where it was.

The sound of battle was clearly audible from the left side of the corridor, so they headed there. A room they passed through was full of destroyed tables and chairs, clear signs that a fight had taken place there. From the glass windows, they could only see rocks and grass, so they assumed they were near the back of the base.

The corridor ended at a tall, wide room with a tall ceiling, and a large window covered the wall, showcasing the central battlefield outside. A chair was placed on top of a small staircase, in a failed attempt to make it look like a throne. Lying on the floor were the bodies of three vice-admirals, all women, and three more bodies, with a sign that read “Sword” on their backs.

The last of the vice-admirals, a muscular man with no left hand, was still fighting a young man in his thirties, a young man who, despite being injured, moved with such grace it seemed impossible. The vice-admiral was only holding out by sheer willpower but he was bleeding from several small wounds, and he was stumbling.

At another entrance of the room, a few injured White House soldiers were holding their breaths, watching their commander’s last struggle. Just as Vreil’s group arrived, the young man broke through his opponent’s defense and pierced his sword through the vice-admiral’s heart.

Eyes filled with disbelief, the second-in-command of the White House collapsed to the floor in front of this man who, still panting, was now wondering whether he should go after Vreil’s group or the soldiers waiting at the other entrance.

Instinctively, Vreil felt that even if the four of them teamed up, they couldn’t be sure they could handle him, even if he was already tired and injured.

“Are you done yet?” came a scared voice from a corner of the room. They didn’t stand out much, but Vreil could now see that there were two people trying to hide in the shadows. The first was a scrawny man with a long, white beard. His clothes were all black and he was wearing an amulet, carved with the image of a sword facing downwards in front of a big eye; the symbol of Madred.

The other man was extremely huge, bigger than the door they had just been through, and was wearing the green cloak of the mountain bandits. The one who had spoken was the man with the Madred amulet.

“Silence.”

The young man who was standing victorious over the vice-admiral didn’t raise his voice, but it was clear that he expected his commands to be absolute. “There are still some bugs around.”

“Can I help this time?” asked the mountain bandit, his voice booming throughout the enclosed room.

“You have your orders, Little John. Protect our good priest. I will handle the rest.”

With those words, the man turned around and looked Vreil right in the eye.

He was dressed in a black sailor’s uniform, holding a black sword from which blood dripped to the ground, both his and of others. His dark hair, currently sweaty yet proud, reached just below his eyes, and his mouth seemed built for the arrogant smirk he sported.

Shocked, Vreil noticed that the man’s right eye was brown, while his left eye was blue. Doubleshocked, he realized that the man knew he was an Arknas too, despite the lens he had taken from Sting.

“Those are Sting’s”, he noted, his voice without any doubt. “So he failed.”

“Who are you?” Vreil asked, ignoring his instinct to turn tail and run. Even the strongest hatred can be clouded by absolute strength, if temporarily.

“I am Edward Teach”, he smiled, pearly white teeth contrasting his medium-length, black hair. “But you can call me Black Beard.”