Anchorside had stood triumphantly for many generations as the beacon of hope for many on the west coast of Fanswald. It was a port city that supplied food and other critical necessities for many islanders and mainlanders alike. Spearheaded by the committed noble family ‘Leer’ who had helped the people selflessly for generations. Their family had a long history that was now only a distant memory.
Count Victar Leer was far from the shining example of the family's past glory. He, in fact, wasn’t even from Anchorside. He wasn’t even related to the Leer family at all. For what Victar lacked in selflessness, he made up for in manipulation. Victar somehow persuaded the last dying relative of the Leer family to adopt him as an adult and he took the Leer name as his own.
Triumphantly Victar stood on the balcony of his imposing manor. His eyes were set on the stone harbour below with greed. He was a skinny man with white, curly hair that seemed to never quite sit flat, and beady eyes made for scheming. Beside the Count stood a tall marble statue. Its face had a striking resemblance to the Count, yet its features were more chiselled, muscular and handsome. On its base in gold, read the words Victar the Great.
A deluded image of his self-perfect.
“It’s going to be a day to remember,” the Count said to himself under his breath.
It was mid-afternoon, and he was enjoying himself watching the townspeople of Anchorside going about their daily business. They rushed around, clearing up their lunches and collecting their things. It was time to go back to work.
"Little slaves," he muttered with a wicked smile.
Sunlight danced over the vast expanse of ocean as far as the horizon. The usually busy harbour was empty except for one vessel. The Leer’s Pride. A gigantic four-storey ship that his adopted father had commissioned seven years prior. It had originally been a transport ship, meant to ferry wealth and aid to those in need around Fanswald. The re-branded military galley was now ready for a new mission, one much more sinister. The Count's time had finally come.
A grin washed over his face as he mentally ran through every minute detail of the plan. He had been preparing for this day for over a decade. His gaze trailed over the town-centre. There lay the first step of his plan. The empty stockades were about to receive an unwilling occupant. The man who will be executed was also the last thorn in his side.
Edgar Patsy, his accountant, was an innocent and cheerful young man who had crunched all the numbers. Alas, Edgar knew little what was really going on, but he still knew too much. Victar smirked at how he had forced the poor accountant to follow his orders. In secret, the count had forged papers that labelled his poor wife as a traitor and if Edgar didn’t do exactly what Victar wanted, the papers would get published. The blackmail was deliciously devious, and the accountant believed every word.
Victar chuckled at the empty threat.
He would never hurt such a beauty. Edgar didn’t deserve her. He did. She would soon be his and then, so would the rest of this unruly land. With his adoptive father out of the picture, no one could of stop him now.
"Sir?" Jacob, his trusty butler, stood by his side and bowed arm stretched with Victars overpriced robe. "The sheriff has arrested Edgar Patsy and charged him with murder."
"Good." Victar smiled as he donned the clothes. "And no one suspects your involvement?"
The butler shook his head. “No one alive.”
"Good. Ready the guards. It's time to begin."
"Yes, sir!"
The butler turned and disappeared into the manor. Victar waited and watched the busy ants in the harbour below. Minutes passed, then a herald with a long purple sash approached the stockade.
"Greetings, one and all. Edgar Patsy has been found guilty of murder and treason! He was caught red-handed, conspiring with the leader of Bluehill town to capture and enslave the people of Anchorside and thus he has been sentenced to death by method of hanging."
Gasps echoed, accompanied by shouts of protest. A roar of confusion and anger echoed throughout the town square. It was time for Victar to make his triumphant entrance. By the time he had arrived, the entire town had crowded around the stockade.
The Herald held out a hand and hushed the crowd.
"Edgar Patsy has been conspiring with the Mayor of Bluehill town. Because of this threat, martial law is in effect. Conscription into a pre-emptive militia has been approved by the Count."
Victar smiled and climbed the high stage above the townspeople. His personal soldiers grumbled as they helped push his weight upward into the limelight.
"Count!" a woman's voice shouted pleadingly. "My husband. Say it isn’t so."
The beautiful blonde woman fought her way through the crowd to intercept him. Victar looked down at her with an expression he thought kind. He couldn’t help but admire her pretty face and slender waist.
"I'm afraid it is true, my dear. Saw the whole thing myself." He gave out a sigh of sadness. His performance was perfect.
"But Edgar was with me all night," she cried. "He couldn’t have done it."
Victar blanched and thought quickly. "It ah. Happened this morning."
"He was at work." She stated flatly.
Victar shook his head. "He deceived both of us, Sandra. I hope in time we will both be able to live with this atrocious betrayal. Together maybe?"
Her expression remained sceptical.
Why didn’t she trust him? Victar wondered. It matters little. You’ll be mine soon.
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A wicked smile curved his fleshy lips. A warm feeling of delight flooded his heart as he felt all his planning finally pay off.
Victar Leer walked the few remaining steps and stood in the centre of his stage. Edgar Patsy knelt bound and gagged, ready for his end.
This was it.
"Edgar no!" Sandra screamed.
The enormous crowd leaned closer. Many of the faces looked horrified. One, however, did not in the slightest. Victar cared little, as he didn’t recognise him at all.
Ignoring the man, Victar continued his speech.
"We will soon rid ourselves of the evil that is Bluehill town. They have spread their damn poverty throughout this great nation of ours. We will take the town from the vile Fredreek and punish all those who would enslave our people!" he announced in triumphantly. Victar closed his eyes and waited for the people to cheer.
"That makes no sense!" A voice shouted from within the crowd. It came from the peculiar stranger.
Victar froze in place. This wasn’t part of the plan. He scanned the crowd, quickly spotting the man from before. He was wearing a large-brimmed hat topped with a white feather.
A pirate? Victar wondered. The stranger was handsome, blonde, and obviously arrogant.
"Who is that?" he asked his butler, who had hurried to his side.
Jacob shook his head in confusion. "No. No idea, sire. He seems to be a pirate."
"I can see that!" Leer spat back.
Murmurs echoed throughout the crowd.
"I thought you just said we should sneak through the crowd?" a woman's voice spoke indignantly.
The pirate turned to face some more people behind him and waved off their concerns.
"I got this Melly."
"You, there!" All heads turned as Victar pointed towards the pirate. "Who are you to question, the Count of Anchorside?"
The man turned back and smiled cheerfully. He looked delighted at the question and skipped his way through the parting crowd. Hopping lightly up onto the stockades, he spun and gave the onlookers a flirtatious bow. The man was clearly born for the spotlight.
"Why thank ye' sir!" he spoke flippantly. "You just claimed that Fredreek from Bluehill Town wants to attack and enslave these people here?"
Victar stared at the intruder. "Yes, I do. We have evidence that Fredreek himself sent a messenger this very morning to this man here." He pointed at Edgar. "We found the message on this murderer that Fredreek will attack us soon."
The bound and gagged accountant shook his head violently.
"Edgar!" screamed Sandra.
The pirate laughed. "HA! Fat chance bucko."
Victar gave the man a look that could kill. "How dare you address me so flippantly, you scoundrel? Who are you!"
The stranger took off his absurdly enormous hat and bowed deeply. "I’m Clemiticus the Splendiferous. At your service." Clem looked at the crowd. "Firstly, Fredreek is dead. And yes, it was an accident. Secondly, there's no way the prisoner has killed anyone. Just look at the man. He’s still only level one. Thirdly, your name is flashing red, so you're probably a hostile NPC. A bad guy, if you will."
A blue light flashed above, and the crowd flinched. "You’re correct master." A blue fairy sang. "This man’s a hostile NPC. A new side quest has been activated. Defeat the evil Count and save the people of Anchorside from his evil plot."
Victar sputtered with incredulity. "Evil? Plot?"
The crowd stared at the Count. The look of confusion throughout the crowd turned to outrage.
"But he's a pirate. Why would you listen to?" Victar stumbled. "How? Guards! Kill the damn pirate!"
A roar of protest reverberated from every corner of the town square as the crowd surged forward. Soldiers drew their swords free and moved to defend the Count.
"Edgar!" Sandra called out.
"Clemiticus! Ya dumbass!" Melly shouted.
"Guards kill! Pirate bad!" Victar spluttered.
A few of Victar’s soldiers ignored the angry crowd and surrounded the pirate, pointing their blades at their flamboyant target. Clemiticus nodded casually and fumbled with his belt. He drew his pistol and pointed it at the Count’s head.
"Wait, wait!" Victar commanded.
Clemiticus ignored the Count’s plea and fired. Point blank.
"Clemiticus has missed," the blue fairy announced. The bullet sailed harmlessly overhead and bounced off a random stone wall.
"Clemiticus has learned firearms level beginner."
"Clemiticus has learned the ability ricochet."
"Seriously?" Clemiticus complained.
"What’s the damn point of a gun if you can't fire the darn thing!" Melly shouted as she attempted to narrow the distance.
Victar blinked. He couldn’t believe his luck. "Ha, ha!" he shouted nervously. "Attack the fool!"
The soldiers laughed and charged, slashing their blades at the pirate's neck. However, neither tip nor edge touched the pirate's body. Clemiticus dodged with the speed and elegance only observed during a drunken sea shanty.
"Whoa," Clemiticus shouted. "What's going on, fairy?"
Fairy laughed. “The soldier's attack has missed because of your high luck statistic.”
"Kill him!" Victar roared as the soldiers repeatedly missed.
“And why didn’t I land a shot before?”
The fairy darted close to Clemiticus, causing the soldiers to back off bewildered.
"Your firearm accuracy is at level one. Which means you have a ninety-five percent chance of missing until you learn the firearms level intermediate."
"Uh, huh?" Clemiticus mumbled.
"And your luck has decreased your chance to be hit while you are in combat. It’s a trait of a swashbuckler when on land."
"Nice!" Clemiticus smiled. "Do I have any special abilities?"
The fairy shrugged. "Search your pockets, maybe?"
The Count and soldiers traded confused looks.
"Um, sure," Clemiticus dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out an old set of mouldy dice.
"Roll them I guess?" the fairy added.
Clemiticus shrugged and rolled the dice, as the soldiers watched stunned.
Bing!
"Clemiticus has cast the bones."
"Clemiticus has gained a temporary Pirate ability."
"Clemiticus has gained Ultimate Ricochet."
"Oh, that sounds fun." Clemiticus chuckled and pointed his pistol once more at the Count.
Victar laughed and crossed his arms. "Going to miss again?"
Clemiticus smiled arrogantly. "Hey, come on. I got to try this out!"
Clemiticus fired.
“Clemiticus has missed the target,” Fairy stated helpfully.
The shot flew past the Count's ear, missing him by a clear margin.
The bullet bounced off a sign, then a pitchfork, then landed squarely on the helmet of a random soldier, knocking him out immediately. The inaccurate projectile whistled as it bounced repeatedly over and over again. The crowd of people all sank to the ground as the bullet sailed harmlessly overhead. The bullet continued three more times before times knocking out one more soldier on its final bounce.
Clemiticus shrugged and fired again and again.
“Clemiticus has missed the target.”
“Clemiticus has missed the target.”
“What the hell Clem?” Melly shouted, while ducking for cover.
The bullets ricocheted over and over again, somehow finding every available bounceable surface. Clemiticus' Luck stat was working overtime as another guard wailed in pain and fell over, followed by another.
Click, click, click.
"Clemiticus has run out of bullets." Fairy sang cheerfully.
Victar opened his eyes and examined himself for cuts or scrapes then let out a bark of laughter as he hadn’t been hit a single time.
"All that racket and not a single shot hit its mark." The Count jeered, then paused. None of his men were standing. They had all been knocked out cold.
None of this made sense. Victar scanned the crowd. The civilians were also unharmed.
Victar panicked and dove off the stage. He had to get away. However, that proved to be his ultimate mistake. As he landed, arms grabbed him. His overpriced robes tore as the enraged civilians held him down.
“I’ve seen this scene somewhere before,” remarked Clemiticus.
"Wait, who are you?" The Count screamed as the crowd ripped at him from every angle. Within seconds, they had torn his robes to shreds.
"Guards?" Victar pleaded. The Count turned to see a slender woman in tight black leather hop up onto the stage. A few of the soldiers had come to their senses and were now facing the leather courtesan warrior.
"Ow!" Leer screamed at the villagers. "Do you know who I am?"
Melly kicked a newly conscious soldier into the crowd, pointedly ignoring the Count's plea for help.
"Can we get going now?" she asked the pirate.
"Clemiticus’ party has defeated the evil Count Leer. All party members have received experience points."