The weeks felt like months. His body ached from the constant labor on the ship, his hands calloused from hoisting sails and scrubbing the deck. This was a new obstacle to overcome. Aidan had quickly learned the ways of the pirate crew, adapting to their harsh lifestyle with a quiet resilience. He needed to survive. The salty air filled his lungs, mingling with the scent of gunpowder and rum as he moved about the deck, his every movement sore from the unforgiving sea.
It was not just physical labor that Aidan had to endure, the social dynamics on the ship were just as treacherous as the stormy seas they sailed upon. The other crew members eyed him warily, testing his loyalty and mettle at every turn. And then there was the first mate, a formidable man with a gaze sharp enough to cut deep to his very soul. At least that's how it felt when he looked at Aidan, small and insignificant.
Aidan rubbed his jaw thinking about the particular incident that left him with lasting reminders of the cruelty he faced. He remembered how First Mate Ballast had given him a good beating a few days prior. Aidan decided from here on out to not let his curiosity get the best of him. Foolish bravery got people killed.
Aidan remembered Ballast’s words as he made his way to a small section of the ship where Dr. Xix resided. He slowly opened the raggedy door, and was immediately met by the pungent, earthy aroma of various herbs and concoctions. The air inside was filled with the scent of dried leaves, roots, and flowers, mingling with the sharp tang of medicinal tinctures. The room was dimly lit by a flickering candle casting eerie shadows on the walls. Each wall was lined with jars and vials of strange ingredients.
Dr. Xix sat at a cluttered wooden table, grinding a mixture of herbs with a mortar and pestle. The petite elderly woman looked up, her thin almond-shaped eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and amusement as she took in Aidan’s now less battered form. Her eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, gave her an eternally inquisitive and discerning expression.
Aidan winced as he stepped inside, the strong herbal smells making his head swim. "Can I get more of the concoction from before," he mumbled, rubbing a finger across one of the opened reopened wounds on his face. He felt both embarrassed and relieved to be in her care.
Dr. Xix said nothing, simply beckoning him closer with a graceful hand. She began to examine his bruises with gentle fingers, her touch surprisingly soft for someone so accustomed to rough seas and harsher realities. She moved with an efficiency born of long practice, her silence creating an almost sacred art around the work she did.
As Aidan sat down, she began to prepare a poultice, her hands deftly sorting through various dried plants. The rhythmic sound of her grinding herbs provided a strange sense of comfort. Aidan watched in silence, noting the precision in her movements. Despite her mute nature, Dr. Xix communicated volumes with her gestures and expressions. Her eyes, filled with a mix of wisdom and mystery, held a quiet assurance that calmed his nerves.
When the poultice was ready, Dr. Xix applied it to his wounds with practiced ease. She worked quickly and efficiently, her movements almost hypnotic. Aidan winced slightly at the initial sting, but soon the cooling relief of the herbs began to soothe his battered skin. He glanced up at her, trying to read her expression. Nothing.
"Thank you," he said softly with gratitude.
Dr. Xix nodded once, her lips curving into a faint, enigmatic smile. She gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning back to her work, her silence continuing to speak louder than words ever could. No one knew why she didn't speak, but the crew had come to respect her quiet presence and the undeniable skill she brought to her healing skills.
Over the next few weeks, Aidan grew accustomed to Dr. Xix's strange, eccentric personality, and found himself growing fond of her. She was the closest thing to a friend he had on this cursed ship, and her treatments, however strange, were effective. His bruises began to fade, and his strength slowly returned. Many on the crew called her a crazy quack. At times, he swore he’d heard her laughing to herself as if she’d brewed something devious. With those elixirs, his bruises began to fade, and his strength slowly returned.
One day, as Dr. Xix was tending to a particularly nasty cut on his arm, Aidan couldn't help but ask, "Why do you stay here, Dr. Xix? With the pirates, I mean. You're so... different from them." Dr. Xix paused, her fingers hovering over the wound. For a moment, a shadow passed over her face, and her eyes grew distant. She glanced down, her expression turning pensive. Without a word, she swatted him in the head and carried on with her work. Guess she’s not ready to share.
Aidan made his way back to his bunk, exhaustion settling into his bones from scrubbing the decks and hauling ropes. He laid down on the rough, makeshift bed and closed his eyes, letting the gentle rocking of the ship lull him to sleep. Laughter and song rang on the deck above. The sound became a lullaby to his tired ears, and the camaraderie among the crew slowly warmed his once guarded heart.
He knew he had to find a way off this ship and back to his sister. But for now, he had to survive. And to survive, he had to learn to navigate the treacherous waters of life aboard the Royal's Rot and pirate life. He would survive and he would do whatever it took to ensure that he never ended up at the mercy of pirates again.
It felt like he had only just drifted off when he was abruptly woken by a cacophony of yelling and rowdiness echoing through the hull. Aidan rubbed his eyes and sat up, disoriented. The noise was unlike anything he had heard during his time aboard The Royal’s Rot. They’d finally reached the Spine.
Before this chaotic arrival at the Spine, the crew of The Royal’s Rot had navigated through the infamous Silent Sea. This treacherous expanse of water was inhabited by sirens, deadly creatures lured by the slightest sound. To cross this sea, the crew adopted a unique method: complete and utter silence. For two days, not a word was spoken, not a footstep echoed. This did not come without their fair share of deaths and trial and errors from the years before.
Captain Shadows instructed them to wrap the oars in cloth to muffle any noise, and the sailors communicated through hand signals. Even the ship’s bell was stuffed with rags to prevent any accidental tolls. The crew moved with an eerie precision, their every action deliberate and controlled. Aidan found the silence unnerving, each creak of the ship amplified in the oppressive quiet. They glided through the mist-shrouded waters, the only sound the gentle lapping of waves against the hull.
On the second night, Aidan thought he saw a figure, haunting, just beneath the surface of the water, eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. He felt a chill run down his spine, and he forced himself to look away, focusing on the silent signals of his crewmates instead. Every sailor hyper-aware that a single sound could spell their doom.
When they finally emerged from the Silent Sea, a collective sigh of relief washed over the crew, though not a word was spoken until they were well clear of the dangerous waters. The experience left Aidan with a newfound respect for the perils of the pirate’s life and the eerie beauty of the sirens’ domain.
Aidan climbed out of his bunk and stumbled towards the stairs leading to the deck, the commotion growing louder with each step. As he emerged into the night air, he was met with a chaotic scene. Pirates were bustling about, some shouting orders, others laughing raucously.
It felt like he had only just drifted off when he was abruptly woken by a cacophony of yelling and rowdiness echoing through the hull. Aidan rubbed his eyes and sat up, disoriented. The noise was unlike anything he had heard during his time aboard The Royal’s Rot.
He climbed out of his bunk and stumbled towards the stairs leading to the deck, the commotion growing louder with each step. As he emerged into the night air, he was met with a chaotic scene. Pirates were bustling about, some shouting orders, others laughing raucously. The ship had reached the Spine, a notorious chain of islands known to be a haven for pirates.
The Spine was a series of jagged islands rising from the sea like the spine of a colossal beast. Each island was dotted with ramshackle buildings, dimly lit taverns, and bustling marketplaces. Fires burned in braziers, casting an eerie glow over the water and illuminating the revelry that seemed to be in full swing. The air was filled with the smells of roasting meat, salt, and the acrid scent of gunpowder.
Aidan's eyes widened as he took in the sights. Pirates from different crews mingled, trading goods and information. Debauchery was rampant; drunken pirates stumbled about, singing bawdy songs and engaging in raucous games. Barrels of rum were being rolled off ships, and a makeshift band played a lively tune, adding to the overall sense of wild abandon.
Aidan’s heart raced with a mixture of fear and curiosity. He had heard stories about the Spine, but seeing it first hand was overwhelming. Many had believed that it was a myth but it was here before him. The realization that he was deep in pirate territory made his situation feel even more precarious.
"Oi, fresh meat!" a grizzled pirate with a wooden leg called out, spotting Aidan standing at the edge of the deck. "Get yer arse down here and help unload!"
Aidan nodded hastily, and scoured around, making sure he didn’t draw any unwanted attention. He descended the gangplank and joined the group of pirates on the dock, his senses bombarded by the sights and sounds of the Spine. This was unlike anything he’d seen before.
As he worked, he couldn’t help but steal glances around him. He saw shady deals being made in dark corners, pirates exchanging stolen goods for coins, and captains huddled together, whispering about their next ventures. Despite the chaos, there was an undeniable sense of camaraderie among the pirates. They might be ruthless and lawless, but they were united by their shared way of life and they would kill anyone who tried to take that away from them.
Amidst the tumult, Aidan spotted Captain Lusitania Shadows standing on the dock, her commanding presence cutting through the mayhem. She stood tall and imposing, her stature accentuated by her formidable height. Her short, blonde hair cascaded just above her shoulders, shimmering like molten gold in the chaotic light of the evening. She really did look out of place, Aidan thought. It made him all the more curious about her.
Captain Shadows was deeply engrossed in conversation with a tall, rugged man who exuded an air of authority. His burly frame and grizzled beard made him look all the more commanding in his own right. Despite the chaos and bustling city around them, their conversation was marked by intense expressions and hushed tones, hinting at the gravity of their discussion.
The man, apparently feeling emboldened by the close proximity, attempted to assert his dominance by placing a hand on Captain Shadows' shoulder, his fingers grazing her blonde hair. His gesture was meant to be a show of control, but it was clear that he misjudged the captain’s tolerance.
Captain Shadows’ face hardened before striking the man's jaw with incredible force. He crumpled immediately, falling to the ground in a heap. The sound of his body hitting the pavement was drowned out by the commotion of the busy docks. The crowd around them, momentarily silenced by the commotion, before quickly resuming their activities. Her intense demeanor restored order in a heartbeat, reinforcing her position as the undisputed leader amidst the chaotic docks. Must be something that happens all the time or she is just that feared.
Aidan couldn't help but be in awe of the situation before him. The image of Captain Shadows towering over the man lying on the ground mixed with her unwavering gaze, always cold and unyielding, took in the scene with a sense of superiority. It was evident that she would not tolerate any form of disrespect, and her swift actions were a clear reminder of her unquestioned authority. How did she end up as the captain of the Royal’s Rot, he pondered.
She smoothly slid her hand into the man's coat pocket, retrieving a rolled-up parchment with practiced ease. The parchment was secured with a leather string and seemed to hold valuable secrets within its layers. Captain Lusitania Shadows expertly unfurled the scroll, scanning its contents with a furrowed brow. The crew members who had been watching from cobblestone corners drew in a collective breath when they saw the name on the parchment - the revered privateer, Saints Glory. That was the Royal’s ship. There were bound to be treasures beyond their belief there!
"What have we here?" she murmured, her voice gravelly with the experience of countless voyages. She tucked the scroll away and turned her gaze back to the crew, her eyes meeting Aidan's. He couldn't help but feel a shiver of fear and excitement run down his spine. He watched as the captain strode purposely back to the boat, leaving the sprawled figure lying on the ground.
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Back aboard the ship, Captain Shadows called for a gathering of the crew. Despite the ruckus outside, the air inside the ship was heavy with anticipation and silence. The crew assembled in the dimly lit galley, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows across their faces. Captain Shadows stood at the head of the room, every soul giving their full attention to her.
"Listen up," she began, her voice cutting through the murmur of the gathered pirates. "We have valuable information, thanks to our friend." A smile played on her lips as she tapped the scroll she had taken from the unconscious man. "This scroll details the updated route for a ship traveling with expensive cargo, bound for a royal banquet. Not just any Royal Banquet might I add but coming from Celestia through the Azurine Cerruccan to Chrystalia, then up to Medour. Its intent is to reach Medour in time for Princess Amaira’s coming of age ceremony. This cargo is not just any cargo; it’s laden with treasures and fine goods, worth a king's ransom.”
The crew erupted in whispers, excitement and greed gleaming in their eyes. Captain Shadows held up a hand for silence. "We will stay here for two days, load up on supplies, and gather more information. I want us well-prepared. This is a golden opportunity, and we cannot afford any mistakes. Any one who gets in our way will be left at sea."
She scanned the room, her eyes landing on Aidan. "Aidan, you'll be going into town with Ironfoot to get supplies and see what else you can learn. Report back to me as soon as you guys find anything."
Aidan nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and determination. She walked off leaving him with the old, overweight man. Aidan followed Ironfoot off the ship and into the bustling streets of the Spine. The town was alive with activity, filled with merchants hawking their wares, sailors exchanging stories, and the ever-present scent of the sea mingling with the aroma of street food. Aidan’s mouth watered from the different smells.
“Don't ye worry I will make sure ye get to eat some grub. Now dry up that drool yer not an animal,” Ironfoot laughed patting Aidan on his shoulder.
As they navigated through the winding alleys, Ironfoot led Aidan to a small shop to pick up some provisions. The shop was cramped and filled with barrels of salted fish, crates of hardtack, and an assortment of spices. After haggling with the shopkeeper, they moved on to gather more intelligence about the cargo ship’s route.
“How do they know what ship to send the crates to?" Aidan asked.
“TRUST ME, They know.”
Without another word they had reached their final stop. To Aidan’s surprise, Ironfoot brought them to a rather unexpected location. Ironfoot pushed open the door to a lively brothel, the sound of laughter and music spilling out into the street. Aidan's face turned crimson as he realized where they were. The interior was lavishly decorated, with plush velvet drapes and ornate chandeliers casting a warm glow over the room. Women in colorful dresses mingled with patrons, offering coy smiles and flirtatious glances. Some were even dressed in next to nothing. Aidan had short romances, but they usually led nowhere. This was different.
Ironfoot clapped Aidan on the back, grinning. "Relax, lad. It’s all part o' the gentleman o' fortune's life. Besides, ye might learn somethin' useful 'ere."
Aidan felt out of place as he followed the olderman to a table in the corner. Ironfoot ordered a round of drinks, and soon they were joined by a couple of the ladies trying to earn a coin and some of the brothel’s regulars. The conversation flowed freely, lubricated by the ale, and Aidan listened intently as they spoke of ships and rumors.
One of the patrons, a grizzled sailor with a weathered face, leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "I’ve heard talk of a ship carrying treasures fit for a king’s banquet. They say it’s well-guarded, but it’s worth a fortune."
Aidan’s ears perked up, and he exchanged a glance with Ironfoot. This was exactly the kind of information they needed. They spent the next hour gleaning more details, the sailor’s loose tongue spilling valuable intel as the ale continued to flow. Ironfoot indulged himself on not only the ale but a busty beauty who attended diligently to his needs. She made sure her assets were… always in view for Ironfoot. She definitely wasn't in it for his good looks, but the hefty purse each of them carried. A few of the girls attempted to seduce an all too shy and quiet Aidan until he had enough and forced his way out of the brothel with a drunk Ironfoot tumbling behind.
As they made their way back to The Royal’s Rot, Aidan’s mind raced with the possibilities. He felt a mixture of embarrassment from the brothel experience and excitement at the prospect of the heist. By the time they reached the ship, he was filled with a renewed sense of purpose. The crew would be ready, and they would seize this golden opportunity.
Back aboard, Captain Shadows awaited their return, eager to hear what they had learned. As Ironfoot relayed the information, Aidan couldn’t help but feel a surge of anticipation. The next two days would be crucial in their preparations, and he was determined to prove his worth or so he thought.
"Excellent work, Ironfoot," Captain Shadows said, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. She turned her gaze to Aidan, her expression unreadable. "Aidan, I have something else planned for you. Something to keep you on your toes."
Aidan's heart skipped a beat. "What is it, Captain?"
She gave him a cryptic smile. "Follow me."
Aidan followed her and Ballast through the bustling streets of the Spine, weaving through the crowds of pirates, traders, and miscreants. The night was alive with activity. The air reeked of salt, smoke, and sweat. Eventually, they reached a small building on the outskirts of the town. The sign above the door was faded and illegible, but the sounds of rowdy laughter and shouts from within left no doubt about its purpose.
"Welcome to the Pit," Captain Shadows said, pushing open the door. Inside, the atmosphere was electric. Pirates crowded around a makeshift ring, cheering and jeering as two fighters went at each other with brutal ferocity. The floor was stained with blood, and the air was heavy with the scent of sweat and iron.
Aidan’s eyes widened. "An underground fighting ring?"
A nearby pirate, overhearing their conversation, chuckled. "Not really underground, lad. We’re all pirates here, aren’t we?"
Captain Shadows led Aidan to the edge of the ring. "This is a test," she said, her tone serious. "To prove your grit and determination. You have two choices: fight and survive to become a full-fledged member of the crew or I’ll kill you."
Aidan swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. He looked around at the crowd, their faces a mix of eager anticipation and hardened indifference. This was his chance to prove himself, to earn their respect.
"Are you ready?" Captain Shadows asked, her piercing blue eyes locking onto his.
Aidan nodded, his resolve hardening. "I'm ready."
The crowd parted as Aidan stepped into the ring. The noise around him faded, replaced by the pounding of his heart and the sound of his own breathing. His opponent was a hulking brute, covered in tattoos and scars, a cruel grin spread across his face as he sized up the tall, lanky Aidan.
"Looks like fresh meat," the brute taunted, cracking his knuckles.
Aidan clenched his fists, determination blazing in his eyes. He had survived the merciless sea, endured the brutal life of a pirate slave, and faced the scorn of his captors. He would survive this too.
The fight began with a flurry of blows. Aidan ducked and weaved, his smaller size giving him an advantage in agility. He landed a few hits, but the brute’s sheer strength quickly overwhelmed him. Aidan tasted blood as he was knocked to the ground, but he forced himself to stand, refusing to give up.
The crowd’s cheers grew louder, their excitement fueling his determination. He remembered the lessons he had learned from watching the crew, the techniques they used in combat. He dodged another punch, using the brute’s momentum against him and landing a solid kick to his ribs.
The brute stumbled, a look of surprise on his face. Aidan pressed his advantage, throwing everything he had into the fight. His body ached, his vision blurred, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
Finally, with a desperate surge of strength, Aidan delivered a powerful uppercut that sent the brute crashing to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Aidan stood over his fallen opponent, his chest heaving as he gasped for air, yet a feeling of triumph surged through him. His moment of victory was short-lived, however, as two more pirates stepped into the ring, their intentions clear from the menacing gleam of the weapons they brandished.
The first pirate was a towering figure, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow in the flickering light of the torches. He had a patch over one eye and a jagged scar running down the side of his face, giving him a fearsome appearance. The second pirate was leaner, with a cunning look about him and quick, darting eyes that missed nothing. Both carried short, curved blades that glinted ominously.
From the edge of the ring, First Mate Ballast, his dark skin glistening with sweat under the torchlight, tossed Aidan a sword. It was barely passable, with a nicked blade and a worn hilt, but it was a weapon nonetheless. Ballast's long dreads swayed as he nodded at Aidan, his expression grim but encouraging. It had been ages since Aidan held a sword.
* * *
Before Aidan was saved by pirates from the merciless ocean, his life had been one of constant battle, not for glory or honor, but for survival. As a mercenary, he sold his sword to the highest bidder, the clang of steel and the rush of adrenaline his only constants. It was a harsh life, but necessary; every coin he earned brought him one step closer to finding his sister, from whom he had been separated in their youth during a brutal raid on their village.
The mercenary work was perilous, leading him across hostile territories and into the fray of conflicts that were not his own. Despite his prowess with a weapon, the life of a swordsman-for-hire was fraught with danger, and it was not long before fate took a grim turn. During a particularly volatile skirmish, Aidan was captured by the enemy, his skills on the battlefield making him a valuable target. His captors saw not a man, but a commodity, and he was sold into slavery, his freedom stripped away as easily as his armor.
Bound in chains, Aidan was transported to a distant land, a place where the sun scorched the earth and the air was thick with the stench of despair. The clang of his shackles became the soundtrack of his new existence, each clink a stark reminder of his loss. Forced to fight for the amusement of his captors, he wielded his weapon in a haze of resignation, each swing a hollow echo of his former self.
As the days blurred into a monotonous cycle of survival, Aidan's hope began to wane. The salt of sweat and blood became familiar tastes, the pain of exhaustion a constant companion. At night, when the cries of other captives filled the air, Aidan would lie awake, staring at the sliver of moon visible from the small window of his cell. The soft glow of the celestial body seemed a cruel mockery of freedom, a freedom he had once taken for granted.
Yet, even in the depths of despair, the thought of his sister flickered like a stubborn flame in his heart. It was this unyielding bond, the memory of her laughter and the promise of reunion, that kept the spark of defiance alive within him. So when the opportunity came—a stormy night when the guards were careless—he seized it with a desperate ferocity born of raw survival instinct.
Aidan's escape led him to the sea, where he found himself adrift on a piece of wreckage, the vast ocean indifferent to his plight. As he clung to the driftwood, the salt of the sea mingling with his tears, he thought of his sister, the fights he had fought, and the freedom he sought. In that vast, unending blue, Aidan found a renewed sense of purpose. He vowed to survive, to find his sister, and to reclaim the life that had been stolen from him.
* * *
Aidan gripped the sword, feeling its weight in his hand. His red hair, usually a fiery crown, now clung to his forehead and neck, damp with sweat. Despite his limited experience, Aidan had spent weeks observing the crew, picking up bits of their combat skills and tactics. His determination to survive had always been his strongest asset, and now it fueled his resolve.
As the two pirates advanced, Aidan took a deep breath, centering himself amidst the shouts and cheers of the crowd. He remembered the movements and techniques he'd seen the crew practice, and while he was no master, his will to live sharpened his focus.
The fight was intense and brutal. The first pirate came at him with a heavy, swinging blow, which Aidan barely managed to parry. The impact sent a jarring pain up his arm, but he held his ground. The second pirate was trickier, using his agility to try and flank Aidan, forcing him to keep moving, turning, constantly adjusting his stance.
Aidan's survival instinct kicked in fully. With a surprising burst of agility, he dodged an incoming slice and countered with a swift thrust, catching the first pirate off guard and sending him stumbling back. The crowd roared in approval. Emboldened, Aidan turned just in time to block a vicious attack from the second pirate.
The battle raged on, and with each passing moment, Aidan's confidence grew. He was tired, his muscles screamed, and his hands were slick with sweat on the sword’s grip, yet his spirit was unyielded. Finally, with a well-timed move that utilized both his observed knowledge and sheer instinct, Aidan managed to disarm the second pirate, sending his weapon clattering to the ground.
As both defeated pirates retreated from the ring, nursing their wounds and their pride, the crowd's cheers reached a new crescendo. Aidan stood there, panting and exhausted, yet victorious. He looked over to where Captain Shadows and First Mate Ballast stood watching. Ballast was nodding with a grudging respect, and even Captain Shadows' stern features softened into what might have been a smile.
As Aidan stood there, catching his breath, Captain Shadows stepped forward, her expression one of mock severity mingled with unmistakable approval. She raised an eyebrow, her voice carrying over the cheers of the crew. "Well, lad, seems you've picked up more than just how to swab the deck," she remarked, a slight smirk playing at the corners of her lips.
Aidan, still gripping his sword, allowed himself a tired but triumphant grin. "Seems so, Captain," he replied, his voice rough with exhaustion. "Perhaps there's room for a fighter among your crew after all, not just a cabin boy."
Captain Shadows chuckled, the sound surprising many of her crew who were more accustomed to her orders than her laughter. "Maybe so, Aidan. Just keep that blade as sharp as your wit, and maybe you'll survive long enough to see land again."
"You've got heart, lad," Ballast called out, his voice booming over the din. "And a hell of a swing."
The crew around them laughed, slapping Aidan on the back and cheering his name. Aidan felt a warmth spread through him—not just from the fight, but from the acknowledgment of his efforts and the growing sense of belonging among this rough, unlikely family. His chest swelled with pride. This was more than just survival now; he was earning his place among the pirates of The Royal’s Rot. As the cheers washed over him, he felt a moment of clarity. No matter what, he would find a way back to his sister. But for now, he was no longer just a slave or a castaway—he was a pirate, and he would make the most of it.
Aidan's thoughts drifted back to his sister. He wondered if she was safe, if she was searching for him, or if she believed him lost to the sea. The thought of her gave him strength. He had to stay strong, find a way to escape, and reunite with her.