A Game Of Swans

Chpt 14 - All Caught Up

"Chaykovsky!" came Ivan's harsh voice from the forecastle of The Prizrak.

His First Mate was by his side in an instant. "Da, Captain?"

"What is our current position?"

"We are just entering the Indian Ocean, Captain, and we are currently south of Madagascar."

"How long until we reach the islands?"

"At our current rate, Captain, about one week."

The Russian Captain gritted his teeth. Not soon enough. If that old man in the church had been correct, then there were another group of pirates also searching for the Amulet. He had to get there first, and he would be more than happy to kill anyone that got in his way.

He'd destroy them if he had to, just like he had done to the Nordic Five when they had refused to help him.

Well, he couldn't destroy them exactly. That would destroy their countries, and while Ivan would usually be more than happy to take over more territory, this Amulet was more important.

Besides, he thought with a dark grin, there are far worse things than death.

*

I was making an effort to tidy up my Quarters a bit when there was a knock at my door. I huffed, putting a pile of books down on my desk before I yelled, "Come in!" to whoever was waiting outside.

Carrie was currently out on deck ensuring that The Reaper ran smoothly while I was taking the time to tidy up slightly, mainly to stop Arthur hounding at me for having such a messy room. We'd all managed to determine that we would be approaching the Cocos Islands any day now, which meant that ourselves and our crews had all stayed hyper-vigilant so as not to miss the tiny islands that would (hopefully) appear on the horizon.

Needless to say, I wasn't expecting to see Arthur, Antonio, and Francis entering my Quarters.

Grinning, I took a seat at my desk. "Well, this is mildly unexpected. Gentlemen, what can I do for you?"

"Bonjour, mon chéri!" greeted Francis, "How fare you this morning?"

"It's afternoon, you bloody git!" chastised Arthur.

Francis smiled sheepishly. "It's the thought that counts, oui?"

"Si!" said Antonio, "At least Francis greeted him, mi amigo. I don't see you doing that."

Arthur glared at the Spaniard and crossed his arms. "Well you aren't either, you bastard, so I don't see why it matters."

"Clearly," began Francis, a sly smile now on his face, "I am the only one here with any manners." He turned to me. "Maybe we should leave them to their bickering, mon chéri, and go and get lunch together, oui?"

I pretended to think it over. "Hmmm, that sounds like a fine proposition, Francis."

Arthur's glare fixed onto Francis as he jabbed a finger at the Frenchman's chest. "(Y/N) isn't going anywhere with you, you wine-loving frog!"

"We could have some wine with lunch, mon chéri!" Francis clapped his hands together. "What a fine suggestion, Arthur!"

Antonio was cackling and I could see a mischievous glint in the French Captain's eyes that told me that the two of them were winding him up.

And it was clearly working.

"Piss off, you French git! You just want to get in his pants!"

Huh. Definitely hadn't expected him to say that... Wait, am I blushing right now? Jesus Christ, I am, I can feel my face heating up, god damn it.