Thanks, mates!
Sorry this took so long - not only was this chapter quite long, but it came at a time where I had very little time to type. However, I finished it - and so, without further adieu:
Pirate Eyes
April 24th, 1702
Pazo de García de la Avaricia, Martliona, Spain
10:58 PM
The crickets chirped in the background as fireflies swam through the humid night air, flashing in a hidden but prevalent pattern. They danced in between the lush vegetation that surrounded the small courtyard, now drenched in the thick darkness of the night. The babbling of the fountain chuckled next to the cackling of the torches, lit a flame and held up high by the group of men in the square. The crew of Navy soldiers stood in a circle around Commodore Rutherford, who watched over all of them as he waited outside the doors of the large mansion.
John sat on the edge of the fountain, extremely anxious and in wonderment as to what was going on. The ran his hands on the stone of the fountain, ever so often reaching his hand back to splash a little up on his hands to keep them from going uncomfortably dry and harsh. He kept in the lap of his unwashed swabby cloths his old, rusted, chipped cutlass, which he looked down on under the dim firelight.
No instruction had ever been given to him as to what was going to transpire. The past few days he has been nearly isolated from the crew, sent to simply wash and wax as his few sailors walked about on the dock, talking and whispering under their breaths. They would hurry on and off the dock in varying groups, looking like they had to get somewhere, but John was confined to the ship, never being allowed to even step on to the dock. Whatever they had planned had been restricted to soldiers - originally, at least.
It was after a half hour of waiting the doors to the mansion opened, all the men who waited in the courtyard halting their whispers and correcting their posture. John stood up as though to follow the others, as Commodore Rutherford stepped up a step to meet Garcia. The man stepped out from behind the shadows of the home, wrapped in an evening robe. He had a small pipe poking out of his mouth, that let out small plumes of smoke as his raspy lungs breathed in and out. He took the pipe out of his mouth and shook Rutherford's hand, as the Commodore spoke. "Everything is planned out as we collaborated, Avaricia. I anticipate that we'll be able to make it over there in a few hours."
Avaricia hesitated for a moment, before nodding. "Bueno, bueno. I apologize for not allowing you and your men to use my horses," Avaricia said as he strutted down the steps from the door, "but it would cause too much of a noise anyway, yes?"
The Commodore shrugged as he walked forward to stand next to Avaricia. "I'm sure we won't need them anyway. There's no need to use them if we can march there in good time."
John felt something lightly hit his back as he stood far from behind the group of men. Startled, he jumped forward a little, before turning around to see what it was. Off to the side of the fountain, poking out of the courtyard, was a small, narrow path leading in to the woods. A slender figure hurried down it, but turned its head as to make sure that John would follow it. Plagued by interest, John looked over his shoulder to check to see if nobody was looking, and then scurried halfway around the fountain, towards, and down the path.
It was a short dirt path, so tight that the leaves of the trees practically covered your path, only letting through if you brushed right through them. It became dark as John stepped down it, the noise of from the courtyard silencing itself as he progressed from it. It was only after about 10 meters of walking or so did the path come to an end - a small, circular area, with nothing but a bird-bath in the middle of it. There were two old, raggedy wooden stools sitting in front of the bird bath, though one of which was already occupied.
Maria sat quietly on top of the small stool, her right leg folded over her left. Her hair was braided down behind her back, letting the moonlight shine on her royally beautiful face. She wore a blue light silk night gown, that sat from her shoulders all the way down to her feet. Her face was mired with concerned, as she motioned with her hand towards the other stool, right in front of her.
John slowly walked over to the seat, and stood next to it wearily, before choosing to quietly sit down. When he was comfortable, Maria leaned in towards him, and he did the same. "Please tell me you realize what you're getting yourself in to." she asked, worried.
"What do you mean?" John questioned.
"Oh dear..." she gulped. "My father isn't exactly being as honest as he seems to be. Please, just, don't go to where he's leading you all too."
"And where is that? I'm the most clueless fool in this town, so I should have a right to know by now."
She looked over John's shoulder, back down the passage to the small cove that sat in, before she continued. "I overheard the Commodore and my father discussing this sort of cave that lies on the beach east of here.... I only know of one such as it near here, and I doubt it's where you want to be."
Just before John could ask a further question, a few murmured shouts began to call off in the distance. Faintly could be heard Garcia yelling about for Maria, over and over, his voice deep and angry. Each time he yelled, it grew louder, as if he were closing in on them. Maria instantly dove her hands down in to a pocket in her dress, and fiddled out a very small square bundle of cloth. She grasped John's hand vigorously, stuffing it in to it and closing his grip around it. "Just hold on to that. When they ask you, show them that."
Just as she finished her statement, Avaricia came bursting in to the small area. He turned and looked to Maria, barking "DIOS, MALDITA SEA MARIA! ¿Dónde has estado?!" He violently walked over to her, grabbing her harmfully at the arm before kicking the seat out from underneath her. She panted in pain as she stayed off the ground by the painful grip of her father, before being pulled up to a standing position and thrown over towards the entrance to the enclosure. She stumbled forward, catching herself on a small stone spire that stood at the gate, before running back towards the mansion in fear. Avaricia followed after her intently, shouting in his native tongue at her.
1
April 25th, 1702
Northeast of Martliona, Spain
1:30 AM
The night sky was clear as it was deep and dark overhead as the group of men creeped down the long, sandy beach. The waves of the ocean slowly caressed the sands as they purred underneath the strong aura of the moonlight. The beach they walked on was long, the lush vegetation of the forests to their right a length away from the hushed sea at their left. They felt almost exposed, although it seemed as though there was nobody around them to watch them.
John's heart raced in all sorts of directions as he stood at the back of the pack of soldiers, his light, rusted sword held firmly in his hand, dragging along at his side. The light and exciting prowess of adventure quaked his heart, but at the same time, the intensity and bleakness of fear swelled over him like a tremendous, crashing wave. The light specks of sweat under his arms and on his back measured the toll the moment was taking on him, and he was unsure if he was looking forward to what was to come, or not - then again, he was still unsure of what this elusive moment actually was.
"Sssh...." Commodore Rutherford whispered from the head of the group. He stretched out an arm, and pointed diagonally from the crew. In the distance, the stone mouth of a cave poked out roughly behind a light cover of vegetation over the entrance. John's eyes widened in anticipation, knowing that the time was nearing, as all the soldiers began to slowly grab at their bayonets. Rutherford made an ushering motion towards the cavern, and began to pick up the pace.
Standing before the silent mouth of the cave, the group stood in wonder, mystification, and fear. As they stepped inside it, their buckled shoes rung in an echo throughout the cave. It was a small-sized cave, only one sizable room consisting of it - from the entrance, the ground led down a small decline in to a shallow pool of water, which was the main floor of the room. Small cliffs and hills ran along the side of the cave, where a few random boxes and crates netted down on the rock sat looming, as if they were abandoned, with no purpose. A flat bedrock sat in the middle of the room, in the middle of scatters of beams of moonlight that poked through the ceiling on the room. The entire cave was vacant - no noise, no motion, no signs of life.
John tried to control his heavily shaking breathing as he stepped down behind the Commodore, who had progressed on to the flat altar of stone in the middle of the cave. He looked around the room, scanning for something that may point out something strange or unusual. The Commodore scoffed in disgust as he threw up his arms, turning back to his crew. "Would you look at this? Seems the rats scurried out from under us."
"Don't think of yourself so highly, Rutherford." Garcia's voice called out. The crew turned to see Avaricia standing in the shadow of the moonlight, high at the entrance of the cave. His horse neighed behind him as he took a few staggering steps down, before stopping. He smirked at the crew, keeping his hands down at his sides.
"Garcia, what is the meaning of all this? You told us the pirates w-" just as the Commodore was about to complete his statement, Garcia scratched from his side a short-barreled pistol, pointing it out from his side and shooting it random, a plume of smoke rising from its tip. John, startled, nearly fell backwards, as the images of his past began to revert back to him - the guns, the cannons, the smoke, the fire, all filling his mind.
Rutherford stepped back, beginning to realize what he had gotten himself in to. Garcia clapped his hands, and then panned one of them over the view of the room. Like magic, the room began to rustle - water began to shift, rocks began to move out of place, and the loud clutter of footsteps rose up. Men of all sizes rose from the shadows and behind rocks, gruesome, grizzly, and ugly in appearance as they all glared at the crew of soldiers mischievously.
The entire crew seemed distraught, but none more than the Commodore. He stared at Garcia with not a face of fear, but disappointment. The Navy soldier's began to slowly raise their bayonets, preparing to defend themselves, but Garcia shot out another bullet. "You best have your men lower those guns, mate."
As Rutherford made the motion, and the crew of men waveringly dropped their weaponry, the Commodore shook his head. "Why, Garcia? I thought I could confide in your trust?"
"Trust is a feeble thing, Commodore. Not something you should hand around on a silver platter - and that's what you did with me." As Avaricia spoke, the pirates began to come down, encircling the crew by standing around the flat rock, in the water. "You brought your needs to the doorstep of a man you knew was a criminal, all for politics. You are the disappointing one here, Rutherford."
The Commodore sighed heavily, looking around him, at the men, at the pirates, and at the entire landscape of the room. When he turned his vision back to Garcia, his face was not of fear, or strength, or determination - no, it was of resolve. Rutherford shrugged, before throwing his hand down at his side, grabbing a pistol, and shooting the pirate that stood directly in front of him squarely in the nose.
The entire cave was immediately thrown in to chaos, as soldiers and pirates alike dove to the ground as a flurry of bullets and explosions rocked out in to the room. John landed a few feet away from where he stood, down on his stomach, with his cutlass still in his hand. He threw his hands up over his head, trying to look around as to where to go. Men ran back and forth across his vision, some of their boots nearly stampeding over him. He tried to scamper to his feet, but every shot of a gun made him cower in fear, with the thought of accompanying his mother coming with it.
Finally, he felt the back of his shirt being pulled up, and he felt his body being picked up off the floor, and nearly rolled in to the water. His body thudded in to the shallow waters, wetting his entire body as the water ran up through his clothes. He felt a knee hit beside him, and he turned to see Commodore Rutherford on his knees, bent over to communicate with John. He pointed out across the cave, to which John followed with his vision. A small rock beckoned to him on the outskirt of the room, which sat just out of the length of the firefight.
John immediately pushed up to his feet, and still in a crouch, sprinted towards the rock, keeping his hands on top of his head to guard himself. He didn't stop for a moment to think, rest, or put any caution in to his action - instead, he was driven by a single kick of adrenaline, which turned in to a wave of decisive action. As he placed his hands on top of the rock and hurtled over it, the Commodore in tow behind him, he could feel an exhilarating feeling inside of him, as though the fear that once overpowered him was turning itself in to courage, the need to feel the fury of battle in his blood.
Rutherford panted heavily next to him, looking down to the cutlass that John still had wrapped in his hand. "You're sure you know how to use that, boy?"
John nodded at the Commodore, closing his eyes so he could steady his own breath. Although Rutherford was skeptical, he had no choice but to approve of it. "Alright, then. Whenever you're rea-"
Before the Commodore could even finish the sentence, a wild blade crashed over the top of the rock, clanging loudly as its tip landed right in between the two of them. John dove off to the side of the rock as the blade swung towards him, quickly scraping himself up to a stand position as he tried to gather himself. His body still stumbled forward, himself nearly tripping over his own feet before he finally caught himself on the base of a small cliff.
John turned around to see a massive, thick man, tossed around in tattered, dirty cloths ripped at the arms and knees. His bald, obese face glared with the upmost severity as he played with a wide, clumsy blade in his hand. He started marching forward like an elephant, pounding his feet in to the water as he came closer and closer. And he grasped the sword with both hands, preparing to deliver a punishing, horrendous swing, John frozen, unsure of what to do. He began to doubt whether his abilities after only a few weeks of practice would pay out in actual battle, and for a moment, thought that it would be such a pathetic way to die. Yet as the moment bore down upon him, his mood shifted.
John side-stepped the swing off to his right, ducking as the blade came up from behind him, over his head. The mammoth grunted under the force of the shot, nearly turning completely around as it came about him. John turned around to face the man, and almost instinctively took his cutlass with him, driving a light cut in to his opponent's side. It felt like his blade had hit a rock wall, but it had driven in to the leathery skin, leaving a small trickle of blood as John jumped backwards in shock.
The pirate screeched in pain, grabbing at his side as he turned around to see what had cut him. He locked his eyes on John, and roared a terrifying battle cry, taking his longsword in his right hand and brandishing it above his head. John took his blade and guarded it in front of him, as his enemy chopped down his sword, clanging against the small rusted cutlass. John's arm jerked down with his blade, but he sprung back upwards as he rebounded to make sure another swing wouldn't clock his head off. The giant picked back his sword and swung again, but the boy twirled by it, spinning just as the tip of the sword nicked his arm. John coughed in pain as he stopped himself, but he took a deep breath and tried his best to ignoring the warm, throbbing pain.
The pirate was now become frustrated, his cut becoming more aggravated every time he twisted or turned. He threw his sword across the room, launching and taking out the leg of one of his fellow crew men, and began to charge at John with his huge, bare fists. John pointed out his sword as a way to possible cast away the man, but the brute outreached an arm and slapped the sword right out of John's hand, it landing vaguely in the murky waters of the cave. As John tried to look to see where it went, a stern hand punched him right in the chest, knocking him backward.
For a brief moment, as he landed on his back on the floor, he flashed back to that terrible moment back aboard the ship, where Captain Rutherford came down upon him, punch by punch. He could feel himself being degraded once more as he remember the blood running from his nose like a faucet, his senses knocked out of him and his body rocked with fear. That horrific sense of hopelessness tried to break itself back to him, badgering the corner of his mind - but this time, he chose not to let it control him.
In a snap of rage, John ran to his feet and threw himself at the behemoth, flailing like a wild bobcat as he punched, slapped, and scraped where ever he could reach. He gripped his hands around the neck of the man, holding him off the ground due to his extreme height, and then used his freely-swinging legs to bring up his knee in to the open cut, thrusting it harder and harder with each blow. He could feel the man struggling to stay alive, but with a final plunge of John's knee in to his side, the pirate's body gave way to pressure, toppling over. John unlatched himself as the man fell back on to the ground, falling like a tree in the forest as he slammed to the rock-hard ground, unconscious.
John's sense of accomplishment filled his pain-ridden body, making him feel less of a boy, and more of a man. He felt like cheering in joy because of his own private victory, before he heard an unexpected sound - a third, loud, thundering pistol shot, that silenced the room.
John turned to see Commodore Rutherford bent over on his knees, clutching his chest as he heaved in pain. In front of him, Avaricia towered, his pistol lying at his side. He didn't look as though he was happy with the victory as he was stern, like he felt Rutherford deserved to be punished. "You should have known better... your kind will NEVER touch my brethren again!" Avaricia shouted. He looked around the room, feeling the eyes on him, and ran back up the entrance of the cave.
John hurried over to the Commodore. "Sir, SIR!" John shook him. "Sir!" He was furious with fear, not wanting to lose the only person left in his life that could watch over him.
The Commodore shook his head, gasping in pain. "It's alright boy... I'll be fine..." he wheezed. "Ta-- take my gun...."
John shook feverishly, reaching to the Commodore's side and pulling out a long, crafted pistol. It was of a beautiful Italian designed, small angels etched in to a metal plate on the side of the gun. John looked at the Commodore, who automatically nodded in approval. "You'll need it..." Rutherford gripped the boy's shirt quickly, taking a final breath. "Make me proud, son...."
The Commodore's body collapsed forward, landing off to the side of John. John looked at him, wishing it was all still a dream - the man who he thought to be his new father, was dead. John jerked his head around, to where the exit to the cave was. "GARCIA!" he roared in a violent, hoarse voice.
2
April 25th, 1702
Pazo de García de la Avaricia, Martliona, Spain
4:55 AM
John ran to the foot of the mansion, his body aching from the long, frantic run. He felt as though he was about to collapse, the lactic acid feeling like a cobra made out of barbed wire was strapped to his legs. He knelt down at the side of the fountain to rest himself, catching his breath and letting his legs relax. He tilted his head up to look at the mansion, the face of building coated in nothing but darkness. The windows were locked, the torches were burnt out - the only thing that was out of order was the door, which was flung wide open.
John staggered to his feet, pedaling towards the house, up the stairs, and in to the large doorway. He clasped a hand down on the dark wood door frame, which separated the outside world from the foyer. It was a wide, circular room, with a marble floor with a spiraling design that spun its way to the center of the room. At the other end of the room, a staircase huge the cylindrical rooms ran along the room to the second floor, that loomed overhead in the lack of light. His feet caused a loud echo as he slowly progressed across the room.
He inched up each step one by one, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of what waited on the floor above him as we came closer to it. As his right hand ran along the wooden banister on the inside of the staircase, he slowly moved his left towards the Commodore's pistol, which he kept in the holster that he took from Rutherford's body as he ran out of the ongoing battle.
He stepped out on to the second floor, which opened to a large carpeted room that was a large hallway, wide and expansive like a hall that ran far back in the mansion. Its walls were lined with mirrors and paintings, with doors to other rooms lining the sides. At the far end of the room, the last door to the right was open, a small table that sat next to it thrown over with shards of glass near it.
John crept down the hallway, trying not to make a sound as he went step by step. He raised the pistol to align with his face, it beginning to shake a little with his nervousness. He had never used a gun, nor even held one before now, but he knew that he would have to use it sooner or later.
Just as he was about to round the door, a loud thud came from behind him. John spun around, pointing the pistol in the direction of where it came from, but it did not meet Garcia's face - it met somebody else's.
Garcia held in front of him his daughter, her mouth tied with a bandanna and a long carving knife to her throat. His face was vicious, as though he was ready to slice her neck even if John did nothing. John was stunned, watching in horror as Garcia gripped Maria tighter. "Put the gun down, boy." he growled ominously quiet.
John slowly lowered the pistol, his face filled with caution and worry. "Okay, okay - just let her go."
"That SWINE Rutherford things he can infringe on everything we've been doing - him and his god damn, self-righteous country. Just a lot of fat, imperialist pigs is what they are. If I ever have to see another British flag in my waters, I'll set fire to London myself!" Garcia roared, each jerk of his arm moving the blade closer and closer to Maria's jugular.
"Easy, easy. Just let her go." John said, keeping his hand still around the pistol's handle, in the event he would have to use it. Whether he would use it correctly, however, was still in his mind.
"NO!" Garcia barked. "All my life I've been pranced over at the hands of those British rats, trying ring their greasy palms around my country." His voice shivered, like he was horrified. "One blood spilled on the floor will be just the beginning...."
At that moment, Maria jolted her leg, kicking Avaricia in the shin. He untensed his hands, allowing for her hands to shoot upward and pry his dagger-hand away from her. John outshot an arm, grabbing Maria, and tossing her behind him. As Garcia tried to lunge forward to latch back on to her dress, John rocked his head with an uppercut from the hand that held the pistol, knocking him back a little. The pirate stumbled back, landing on his knee before a small table with a vase on top of it. Before he could think, John took the pistol, raised it, and shot it at Garcia's forehead.
John was unsure of what happened in the few seconds between when he shot the pistol, and the realization that he had shot it. The room was silent, all except for Avaricia's wild screaming. John's eyes focused on what he had done - the bullet had missed the pirate's head, and instead, shattered the vase that sat aligned with his face. Aside from a few small shards that had plunged in to the side of his face, a large piece of glass had shot up in to his left eye, leading a river of blood streaming down his face.
As John stood there, caught in a daze, Maria grabbed his hand, tugging him as they ran through the hall, down the stairs, and out of the mansion.
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Think this story ain't true? Go speak with Mr. Avaricia yourself in-game
Be sure to comment and review mates! Thanks for reading!