Captain Astoria's PoV
I hate Pirates Cove. I hate docking my ship here, I hate dirtying my boots walking on the the ground of this piss poor island. I hate the sights and smells and screams of pain throughout the whole wretched place. For every good there is on Oneiro, the counterpart is here. But for my image and for my home, I will play the part that everyone wants to see. I will play the part of the pirate everyone thinks I am in order to protect what I hold close to my heart. I will gladly dock my ship here and dirty my boots and mingle with the scents and sounds if it means there can be light and joy elsewhere.
The WindFlyer is docked in the harbor of Pirates Cove. My crew will stay on deck while the meeting takes place. Ren, Andreas, and Draen follow me as I stalk through the city. I watch with distain as common thieves skitter across my path. I recognized the other lords ships in the harbor when we arrived. Recognized the flag they all bear. The black flag with white skull and crossbones on it. The same flag I refuse to bear on my ship. For one, it is a dead giveaway to any royal ship that we are pirates and also, it's just plain ugly. But the lords do like their flash, they're like a flock of male peacocks.
For some reason, it seems like no matter when I come to this place, there is a perpetual smog always casting its shadow over the dirt roads. The hovels that they call homes made from rotting wood, the taverns made from the same rotting wood and overflowing with the smell of beer and unwashed bodies. The whole city smells like piss and sweat. Beggars give me toothless smiles from where they lean, drunk, against buildings. I don't spare them a passing glance. Prostitutes claw at the sleeves of Draen and Andreas, trying to sell their wares. Some even look to Ren... until she shows them her pearly whites. None approach me, not when I have the look of murder in my eyes.
With our masks in place, my party of four matches through the dirt roads on the winds of death and destruction. All of us are armed to the teeth. I carry three swords and my pistol, Andreas has two pistols, two swords, and a battle axe, Ren has two swords, a set of brass knuckles, a pistol, and -- of course -- her teeth, and Draen has two pistols and two swords. We make our way to a lavishly styled albeit nondescript two story building. There are high arched windows of tinted and colored glass, gold trimmings around the door and windows, and the building is made of dark stones -- as are all of the buildings that are considered nice. Andreas knocks once before grabbing the knob and pushing the door open. The interior is styled much to the same lavish standards as the exterior. A large crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling of the front room and more can be seen in every room branching off. The tops of the rooms are trimmed with crown molding. Fine leather lounge furniture is in this front room along with two bookshelves and imperial rugs. A fire roars in the fireplace near the windows, creating a stifling heat in the room.
I give Draen one more pointed glance and he returns the look with a terse nod before I kick my boot against the fireplace. I step back behind Andreas as the hinges creak and the door swings open. Andreas leads our party into the hidden meeting room, surveying it before allowing me to come in. I make a point not to look at the other fourteen pirate lords as they stand in respectful greeting. I stroll to the head of the table and place my hands on the worn wood as my chair is pulled out behind me. I do not thank whoever did it as I take my seat. I fold my hands on the table and finally take in the people in the room.
Fourteen pirates still standing with their eyes fixed on me. Their first mates are all armed as much as my own group but they only brought one with them. I move my head barely in an inch of a nod and the lords take their seats again. They hate me, I can feel their hate radiating out of them as much as I can feel the heat of the fire. I take a dagger from my belt and begin twirling it between my fingers as I watch them. I tap the blade once on the table and then return to my twirling.
"Speak," Andreas grunts with his arms crossed over his chest and feet splayed shoulder width apart. His voice is flat, bored. As if even my first mate is too good to be speaking with these men.
"We are so glad you could join us today, captain," Captain Matuka purrs from my left. The man is from Postuna originally before he was exiled for murder. He found that he fit quite well with pirates. He fell in with a different captain and his crew, starting as a lowly serving boy. Matuka rose in the ranks of the ship until they made him an official part... then he killed the captain and took over the ship, using fear as his control method. His crew is of shallow and pale faces, always glancing over their shoulders like he could be there. I slide my eyes to look at him.
"Cut it with the horse shit, Captain Matuka. Why are we here?" Andreas demands for me. Matuka narrows his eyes at my first mate before looking back to me.
"Still too good to talk for yourself?" Matuka sneers at me. I scan my eyes over his face with distain and then dismiss him by looking away. I can feel the lord bristling at the rude gesture and a let the small smirk play on lips they cannot see.
I hear Dorobor, a second lord, clear his throat before speaking. "Words have reached me ears that ye took out a Royal Navy ship," he says, his nose stuck up in the air and eyes squinting. Dorobor is a money grubbing captain. He works his crew half to death and pays them next to nothing while he lives a lavish life of kings. The only reason he has a crew is because if they were to leave him, he would make it so they never found another job again. Originally from Vergarst. I let no emotion show on my face or in my eyes. I don't even move my head to look at the speaker.
"What's it to you?" Andreas replies in the same monotoned voice as before. No interest, no indication of whether the statement is true or not. A murmur goes around the table until Dorobor speaks again. It must have been his idea to make the summons if the others are -- I wouldn't go so far as to say looking to him -- making him speak to me. They'll never admit it, but most of these lords do fear me and the stories they've heard.
"My birds said 'ere was a prince on board." Ah so they want to know if I killed the prince or not. Interesting. Andreas does not speak for a while, not until I blink twice in quick succession.
"And if there was?" he taunts masterfully. He sounds almost amused, like this is a joke to him. A game to be played and won with the captains as his pawns.
"And if there was," Dorobor grits out, his teeth clenched, "did ye kill the boy?" I feel the slightest shift in Draen's footing behind me. I want to shoot a glare at him but I can understand his discomfort. I remember a similar meeting being held a few moths after I was put on the lords list. They wanted to know who killed a certain princess. Lucky for them, the king of Roltem was not too disappointed upon losing his daughter. I guess King Alture actually cares.
"Maybe. Maybe not. What's it matter to any of ye? Ye all hate royals," my first mate fires back calmly. His cold exterior, not giving them an inch of emotion, pissing them off when they fail to get anything more than the words he is saying.
I hear a chair clatter against the floor as one of the lord launches to his feet, his face beet red. I am surprised he isn't foaming at the mouth at this point. "It matters to us because that damned king in Alture is cracking down on us. Hard," he yells at us, spit flying from his lips. Ah, there is it, I think to myself in regards to the spit. "I've lost two trade deals and half ma crew to the bastard! He wants his son back! And if he can't get the whelp back, he's going to hunt us down and repay the favor!" Captain Nargov of Territa screams at me. His first mate placing a hand on his arm tries to settle him down. Nargov jerks his arm away and slams back into his seat. Some of the other captains begin to bite out their losses and what they stand to lose. The heat in the room is no longer just from the fire as voices start to become raised.
"So, we ask again, did ya kill the prince?" Dorobor asks, calmer now, in an attempt to direct the meeting back to civil. If he fails, it will fall apart very quickly. And that could play to my advantage. The lords quiet themselves for now, but I can still feel the tension.
"My Captain is going to pretend ye don't ask because ye wish to turn 'im over to the king an' cut yer losses. My Captain is going to pretend ye aren't planning to sell 'im out, either, because my captain knows exactly, down to the last detail, what 'e and 'is crew can do to ye," Andreas says menacingly, making eye contact with several of the lords as he does.
"Is that a threat, first mate?" Quanstanos hisses lowly. The others fall deathly silent and glare at my first mate with hatred and malice.
"My captain isn't making a threat," he starts, reassuring them. "My captain is making a promise." The room erupts into shouts when the words fall from Andreas's lips. Full blown arguments and rivalries coming to the surface, most not even relating to me. Guns are drawn and fingers are pointed. First mates stand in front of their captains, captains accuse each other of killing the royal, first mates holding their captains back, angry threats being tossed around. I find it ironic and amusing. Idiots, the lot of them. The things they would know if they studied a bit about the people they pillage, they might even learn who is sitting before them and standing in the corner.
I rise from my chair unceremoniously and start walking out of the room. The lords are too far gone to notice my exit in the midst of their arguing. It's so easy to play these fools. Insult their egos, threaten them, never give a real answer and suddenly they forgot I was the one they were going to interrogate.
"I'll kill you! I'll kill you and your whole damned crew! Where is the boy? I'll see you burn in hell, I should have told Alture you'd be here like he wanted!" Nargov yells over the arm of his first mate. I freeze mid-step. I turn slowly around. The other lords halt their shouting as the confession hangs in the air. Maybe I was wrong about who spear headed this meeting. A rat. That's what Nargov is. He seems to be working with the king and just gave himself away. And the other lords know it now too. They start advancing toward him, rage and betrayal on their faces.
I raise my hand to halt them before stalking toward the captain. I narrow my eyes as Andreas wrestles his first mate back. Ren grabs his arm and slams it against the table, fingers splayed. The other lords just watch with grim horror at what I will do. 'Traitor' they hiss and spit at him. I take the dagger still in my hand and let the light play over it before I slam it on the table. The captain screams in pain as I sever his thumb from his hand. Hard to grip the wheel when you have no thumb. I wipe the blade on his coat as he falls to his knees in pain. I don know if he will ever rise from his knees again. I don't care either.
I walk out of the fireplace door with my hands clasped behind my back and not a hair out of place. I walk out of the nondescript building and step onto the dirt road. I walk along and listen to the sound of the vile city as the sun reaches the highest point in the sky. I walk into the harbor, my hands still clenched. I walk past the other lords ships and toss something onto one of them. Ren's metal teeth clack together when shouts of the crew start to sound. She bears them at the faces looking over. Nargov's ship and crew. Draen's eyes bore into my head. He wants to know what I tossed onto that ship. What did I toss, indeed.
A thumb.
A threat.
A promise.