I gaped at Shacklock, and I noticed I wasn’t the only one. Similar expressions were on everyone else’s faces as well, from Azarus to Liora, to hell.

Even Venix looked surprised at those words. Shacklock was Grey’s brother?

The madman snorted at our perplexed expressions. “Oh, not literally ye great sack of numpties. If I were the man’s blood-brother, I woulda had a much easier time of killin’ him.”

The hell did that mean?

A portion of the tension slipped out of the tent. Not all of it, of course. None of us looked to have forgotten the experience of Shacklock’s Mantle and remained wary of the unstable geriatric.

I don’t think I would forget it for the rest of my life.

Bella scowled at him, clenching one hand tight on the goblet of wine one of the officers had left behind. “Then what do ye mean, blaggard?”

“Oh, you should understand better than the rest of these soft un’s, little girl,” Shacklock gestured around the table, before wagging a finger at Bella. “I’m talkin’ about the type of brother you find out on the sea. The man who ya come to rely on, when the fierce winds blow and the sea rises up to swallow ya. He who heaves on the ropes with ya and drinks from the same bottle. That is the brother I speak of.”

Bella’s brow shot up in realization, and she exchanged a look with me. “What?” She said, baffled. “You were a seaman?”

“A…pirate?” I asked slowly.

Shacklock shrugged, leaning back in his throne. “For a time,” He admitted casually, reaching down below him and groping for something. He withdrew a bottle, popped the cork, and took a swig. He made a face. “Gone sour, this has. Bah. Anyways, it weren’t for long, in the grand scheme o’ centuries. But it shaped the rest of me life.”

“I have never heard this before,” Venix said, speaking up for the first time. A frown had crossed his chitinous lips.

“Nor have I,” Liora admitted quietly. “There are no records of you having served as a pirate within the Kingdom, Sir Shacklock.”

“Like I said,” Shacklock said, surprisingly patient. “It were only for, oh, say…a decade? Thereabouts. Settle in for a tale, boys and girls. Consider this both the last will and testament of the Madman, as well as his confession. Cause I ain’t lettin’ ya leave until I’ve said my piece. I’ll kill the lot of ya if ya try and leave.”

My cheek twitched at the casual death threat. It was a good reminder that we were essentially his captives, right now.

“I was a crofter’s boy,” Shacklock started, almost wistfully. “Me mam died in childbirth, one o’ the rare few. I know, I know,” He said, chuckling at the odd expressions on a few of my companion's faces. “It don’t happen often, and it’s only somethin’ that does to those that deny a Status. She was apparently one o’ those loonies. I never knew her, but I did know my pa. Some relatives of mine told me her death made the man cold, and that’s a fact. My younger years were-the hells are ya doin’, boy?”

I had never seen such a baffled expression on the madman’s face before, as he stared over at Renauld. I followed his gaze to see that the Gnoll had pulled out a small diary and an ink-enchanted quill from his pack. The entire time the old monster had been monologuing, my Healer friend had been scribbling quickly away, apparently writing down every word he said. At Shacklock’s interjection, Renauld looked up and shrugged at the attention. “What? I’m going to head back to the Academy sometime. I figure, this is as good as anything to hand in as an extra credit assignment for Professor Altaburry.”

I don’t think I was the only one to stare at Renauld in disbelief. Shacklock, for his part, just scratched his chin for a moment and then shrugged. “Well, I ain’t ever had a problem with Liam, despite being part of That Fucker’s staff. You can continue, boy.”

To my disbelief, Liora scooted her chair closer to Renaulds so she could look over his shoulder as he scribbled at incredible speed. I suppose higher education was the same even in magical fantasy land.

You learned to take notes quickly.

“Anywho,” Shacklock picked back up. “Where was I? My younger years, right. They was rough, and me pa was fond of his drink. The combination meant that I was out the door as soon as I had me Status. Now, the old homestead was further up north, and to us, Hollow Hill was the big city. I didn’t want to go to the big city. For all I knew, I would end up a scribes apprentice or some such nonsense.”

I…couldn’t help but see the irony in that statement. As I recall, Grey had told me that he had been bound to become a scribe’s apprentice himself, before becoming a pirate. It just made the similarities to the two men more stark, even with their enmity. I didn’t say that aloud, though.

I valued my tongue staying inside my mouth.

“I wanted adventure, instead. So I hiked my way towards the coast, and from there, I signed with the first crew that would take me out onto the drink. Turns out, that was under the flag of a piratin’ Captain that went by the sobriquet of Shiverarse.”

…what?

I wasn’t able to keep a small snicker down, and I wasn’t the only one. Azarus looked to be having convulsions, while Renauld had a massive smile on his furry lips. Liora looked away briefly to hide her own small one, while even Venix’s stern countenance had softened a little. Kazuma just had an expression of complete disbelief on his face, as if he couldn’t understand a word that was being said.

Meanwhile, Bella was shaking her head. “Pull the other one, old timer,” She said, clucking her tongue. “Ain’t no way a self-respectin’ Captain would call themselves such a thing. They’d be laughed outta Marrowmist if’n they tried.”

Shacklock wagged a finger at Bella. “Ah, but there’s the thing, gel. Marrowmist, or hells, any of the modern piratin’ ports weren’t a thing yet. It was all much looser back in the day than it is now. But I swear on me life it were true. The lads thought it was supposed to be about how the man would make people shake in fear or some such. Reality was, though, that the crew came to be known as the arse shakers. But the important thing was, I met another boy that had run off to join a crew at the same age as me. That boy’s name was Grey. He didn’t like his full name, at the time.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

So.

That was how they’d met.

Grand Marshall Shacklock almost looked wistful for a moment. “We were fast friends, which shouldn't surprise a soul. Two young lads, signin' up at the same time? Felt like Fate was showin' her hand back in those days. But Shiverarse didn’t last long, as ya could rightfully expect. Just another haypenny captain without the sense the gods gave a rock. Ya know the type, gel.” He said, surprisingly handing the bottle of sour wine over to Bella.

She took a draw from the bottle and made a face at the taste. “Aye, I knew one particular bastard like that by the name of Longslip. Last I’d heard, he ran afoul of the Bluebacks. Had himself a short drop on a long rope.”

I stayed quiet, eyeing the two of them as they chatted almost as if they were old friends. I…didn’t have the experiences to relate, involving the world of piratry.

And I kind of didn’t want them.

“Always gonna be dumb bastards in the world,” Shacklock nodded easily. “Anyways, me and That Fucker signed up with another crew together, when he was gone. And then another, when he was gone. And on and on it went. Those were turbulent days, I’ll tell ya. Herztal wasn’t really a thing yet, and the Succession Wars were mighty fractious. Gods, it were ridiculous. Even the outlaws were tryin’ to get in on things, tryin’ to crown themselves a ‘Pirate King’. In the end, that…well, that ended up bein’ the problem.” He leaned forward, his eyes slipping away from Bella to rest on me once more.

A decidedly unkind smile crossed his lips.

“Your precious Greycton got in on the action,” Shacklock said, in a suddenly nasty tone. “Had himself more ambition than sense, back in the day. He were barely scratchin’ the hundred mark, and already thought he were fit to be King o’ the Pirates. Whitegull, he were callin’ himself, a name that survived even till these days. Man wasn’t even a properly schooled Mage yet, and I wasn’t a Cultivator. I’d trailed behind in the levels, ‘cause ya see…I’d found me own ambition beyond piratin’. A wife…and children.”

I began to get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The room was silent, as well, with some of us barely breathing. Venix looked to be still as stone, while even Renauld’s scratching had stopped for a moment.

Shacklock stood up from his throne to lean, palms first, on the massive table he’d bragged about. The shadow he cast over us from the sconce behind him loomed large over all of us. “Funny that we’re here in Kawamara, even technically. It all went down in the riverlands, y’see. I’d hung up me hat and cutlass in favor of the plow, takin’ after me crofter pa. Got tempted by a wondrous lady by the name of Noriko. That Fucker even let me, his first mate, go easily with his blessin’s. I got her with child afore long, and we lived a blissful few years on a small patch up on the northern part of the mainland. One day, we had a little boy we named-” He suddenly stopped, and an almost lost expression crossed his face for a moment. It was as if the man no longer knew where we were, or even who he was. It passed, though, and his face hardened once more. “Ha. Don’t even remember anymore. Age robbed me of even that. But that ain’t the point. Point is, is that they were both slaughtered. By pirates, flyin’ the flag of the white gull.”

I closed my eyes, unwilling to meet the growing fury in Shacklock’s. Even though age had stolen some of the details from Shacklock, the hatred that infused every cell of his body had never faded.

I heard Bella set her bottle down on the table and flicked my eyes over to her. “How?” She wondered, calm in the face of the storm. “She on the sea in some way?”

“Aye,” Shacklock growled. “Her pa ran a fishin’ boat. It were how I met her in the first place, back in the docks of Hinaga. She went out with him one day, showin’ off our boy. Only…the Whitegull pirates were lookin’ to expand westward and make a name for themselves in these waters. One of That Fucker’s under Captains was lookin’ to make a name for himself, and no target was too small. And so a tiny little fishin’ boat, carryin’ what I loved most, got put to the blade.” He leaned forward, baring old and yellowed teeth. “And so I made sure that history would forget his name. Ain’t nobody remember him now. And when I was done with him, I went on a tear through That Fucker’s ranks. They was all guilty, as far as I was concerned. Especially That Fucker. It was because of me,” Shacklock thumped his chest, with one skinny fist. “That Greycton’s bid for a seastone crown died. He disappeared into the continent when I was done slaughterin’ his captains, and I never found him. Not till after the Sea Beast was done with its rampage. I was a bounty hunter and a Cultivator by that time, livin’ with nothin’ but hate in me heart, endlessly huntin’ him. Turns out, the man had gone legit, found himself a mentor, and had risen high in the crown’s esteem. He was untouchable by that point. I hated that. So, I made a decision. If I couldn’t take the man’s head easily, I would dedicate my life to ruinin’ all that he touched. I sought power and years so I could rise as high as he could, when he sought ‘em himself. When he joined the Crown’s initiative to found new ‘Martial Orders’, I did the same. Our two were founded in direct opposition to each other. And then, later, when he went on to join the Academy, I aligned my Solstice’s Flame more with the Army, who weren’t too happy the school was stealin’ their recruits.”

The tent was silent, in the wake of Shacklock’s somewhat…unhinged rant. I think we were all just absorbing what he’d said, honestly. All of us were, in one way or another, connected to Grey. In the same manner, we’d all known, technically, that he had also been a pirate for a long time. Tragedy followed in the wake of that life, but I…I had never wanted to think of what had come from Grey’s own stint.

And now the results were almost literally looming over me.

At least, until Shacklock slumped back down into his throne, looking more like a tired, sickly old man than he ever had before. He sighed. “I’ve been the hound nippin’ at his heels all me life, and me only regret is that Core Collapse is stealin’ that from me now. I’d be happy to do this for millennia more.”

Bella had been staring into the fire behind him silently for a while now. Eventually, she stirred. “Where does Cass fit into all o’ this? My understandin’ was that she used to sail with Whitegull.”

Shacklock waved her question away with one skinny hand. “Cassandra the Red was one of his under captains, the only one of them that turned on him in the end. She sailed off into the horizon once his bid started to get more bloody than she cared for. It’s why I never set meself after her head.” He snorted. "Way I understand it, That Fucker himself didn't begrudge her after some time passed."

He stopped talking after that, looking like he had descended into brooding on the past. Surprisingly, it was Kazuma who finally spoke up. The samurai had been silent for quite some time, considering how little relationship he had to all of the events spoken about. “Where do I come into all of this, Grand Marshall?” He spoke, sounding nervous for the first time since I’d met the man. “How did you conceive of your plan to slay Tatsugan permanently, using the Shōmetsu no Kiba?”

A small smile crossed Shacklock’s lips then, and the look he shot the younger man was almost fond. “Ya haven’t guessed yet, boy?” He chuckled. “Now, I mentioned that my wife and boy were killed by Whitegull’s crew, didn’t I? But I also said we’d had children. As in, more than one.”

A bolt of realization stole down my spine, and I don’t think I was the only one in the room. Venix suddenly leaned forward, nearly gaping at the old monster. But Kazuma, for whatever reason, hadn’t connected the dots yet.

Or didn’t want to.

“Y’see, my son was my second born from Noriko. My firstborn,” Shacklock said, almost playfully. “Was a little girl by the name of Higanami. When I left these shores, I left her with her uncle. A good man, who raised her into a fine warrior.”

Kazuma choked on his own spit. “That’s…that’s the name of my clan’s founder…” He breathed.

Slowly, Shacklock stood up from his throne-like chair. There was a sharpness that filled that air that almost hinted as to the possibility of his Mantle, as he nearly glided over to stand behind the chair of the shell-shocked Kazuma. Almost gently, he took the wrapped package off of the samurai’s back and held it in one hand for a moment, looking at it. Eventually, he unwrapped the hilt, exposing it to be intricately crafted of what looked to be obsidian and gold.

He rested one hand on the blade, which I had been told would violently reject those not bound to it.

Nothing happened.

Shacklock turned to face me of all people, and winked.

“Guess that bloodline bond works backwards as well, eh?”