[Captain Del]

Thank you, mates!

Sorry this chapter took a little long, mates - it was mainly a build up chapter with not much substance, and in the end I made the decision to cut out a lot of useless filler that would have made the chapter very, very stale. So, without further adieu, I present to thee...

Wary Before the Storm

The weather became increasingly worse and worse as the crew finished and finalized all ties and preparations for departure, now starting to be daunted by the winds that whipped flurries of mist in to their face. The wooden floors began to become more wet as they went about, and a few dozen of the men assigned to make sure the deck stayed clean and orderly often found themselves slipping and sliding on their knees back and forth as the waves rocked the massive vessel from underneath. It came to the point that now, even in the afternoon, groups of large glass-enclosed candles had to be left hanging in order to supply some sort of light under the darkening sky.

Delmaria stood in the center of the ship, just in between the two main masts that stood in the ship's center. It was a massive ship, indeed - the hull was wide enough to accommodate a frontline of gunners marching down a battlefield, and the main deck was long enough to serve as a battlefield. The hundreds of men employed under him ran across the deck, mindful of the large open grates in the center column of the ship, where the barrels of ammunition were being passed back and forth. Back down by the helm, two curved staircases curved out and then to the second deck, which expanded for a little more before two more side staircases led up to the helm, where Delmaria's navigators stood panning over the maps given to them so they could chart course easily and efficiently.

Delmaria was still caught in a daze by the fact this monster of a ship had so quickly become his. He walked across the deck to the port where he stood forward over the banister, looking at the tower of a prison that had become the pirate's stronghold of Western Europe. It was the first time that he had seen the fortress in it's full glory, extending high in to the sky adjacent to the large cliff that extended up at it's side. The waves had become so high that they began lapping over the side of the stone dock and began washing sailors who hadn't yet boarded their ships back and forth, yet they still trudged on. The shape of the tower was odd - it was thick and strong, yet it jutted in and branched out in to space. From large, gap-like windows you could still make out the dim torch light that illuminated the dank hallways, which inside the remaining pirates twiddled their thumbs as they awaited war to spark.

Delmaria tapped his hands on the wooden railing, and then in response his shoulder was tapped from behind. He turned to see a group of roughly ten men, all dressed in tattered and torn wears of the French Navy stand there, staring at him with expectant expressions. They all seemed to be in their middle ages, yet they were roughly the same high and build as Darkskull, who kept his hand on the railing behind him so that he may not topple back from their overpowering presence. One of them, a darkly tanned man in the front, spoke to him in an accent reminiscent of a merchant from Paris he met once as a child. "You are our captain?" he raised a pointed eyebrow.

Delmaria cleared his throat, standing up straight. "Indeed I am. And I suppose you're my sailors?"

The man scoffed at the boy. "Your sailors? We only serve the ship, not some boy of a captain."

"As I recall this is my ship. If you serve the ship and the ship serves me than you either have a choice to be a servant to the master or a slave to the servant." Darkskull spat, getting tense by his denial of his own ship.

"Your ship?" one of them called from the back.

"YES, my ship. And you can either listen to your captain or I'll find a way to FORCE you to listen." Delmaria stepped forward, trying to loom over the men.

The Parisian stepped forward as well, getting uncomfortably close to the boy and staring him down in to the eyes. Delmaria knew what he was trying to do - the officers of a ship were much like a pack of lions in the animal kingdom. The alpha male was left to watch his enemy and stand his ground, to prove that he was dominant. Even a sign of weakness and he and the ship would fall prey, which would lead him to being submitted, or even mutinied against.

But not in this case. The Frenchman stepped back, squinting his eyes at the boy and nodding agreeably. "You may be young, but your heart is of fire. You will lead us to either greatness or failure by it." the man looked up and down the boy once more, before motioning the rest of his group back over towards the helm, to get to work.

It wasn't long before the yelling ceased and all men watched as the glorious, magnificent sails dropped, jolting the ship forward with an oncoming gust of wind. The crowds of men across the three departing ships cheered uproariously as they set sail under a new heading, and in their heads a new dream and idea that they need not serve kings. Delmaria, who stood at the bow of the ship, tightened his grip on the cordage next to him, feeling the wave of mist spearhead his body. He felt like he was being exposed to a new world - this time, he was the captain of his own destiny. The world was his to explore, to thrive in, and to conquer.

The bow breached over an oncoming wave, and slammed down uneasily in to the waters as it glided out of the bay. Delmaria walked over to the side of the ship, and looked back out over the side, to look at the fortress which he spent the grueling summer months in. He watched as the mist swirled up it's spiral, coaxing over it's face and sealing it away from him as it faded off in to the distance. His hand, which was still on the edge of the ship, did a little wave goodbye, to which he creditted himself with a smile.

1

The voyage was a very easy one for the most part. They stayed just off of the coast of the Spain, and then France, just out of reach so that they couldn't be seen by any military installments on the shore, but still close enough to not get lost. The three ships moved like a pack, not going a certain distance from one another. The only time when they separated was when they had to make port, each going to a different one along the coastline so to not draw attention to themselves as a group.

Though still caught in the sense that he was now a pirate captain, Delmaria could not stop looking over the side of the ship to watch the ship that was captained by that bone shivering Renveil. He learned to study every single feature of that ship, because he looked at it so often to make sure nothing was going on. It was a ship larger than his in both hull and mast size, except with an odd shape. The back helm was almost drastically higher than the main deck, though the hull itself was pretty high. At the bow it gave down a little bit to a point where two forward cannons sat, which was not unusual. It was how the ship was decorated that offset him - it was painted a deep, dark black with dreary red sails, blending it in almost too well with the night. Skull charms and other trinkets littered the place, and you couldn't get beside the fact that no matter where you were, you could feel some of the skull masks plastered to the stern of the ship staring back at you.

But that wasn't the worst part of it. The man himself was all to mysterious in the first place for you to spend so much time in such close proximity, like he was almost forcing you to watch what he was like. Yet he did it in such a way that would make one feel like you were only catching him by circumstance, and by that you felt more secure jumping over the side of your ship than staying onboard to watch one of his shows.

Sometimes you could see him standing on the side of the ship, watching the two other ships that sailed near him, though it looked as though he was doing it discretely. At times you would make eye contact with him, and he would just stare back without a sense of emotion. Other times, in the dead of night, when all the crews had taken to rest and you walked across the dock to make final orderly checks, you could see him walk out on to the small balcony on the back of his ship, a small object in his hand - sometimes a piece of cloth, other times a small animal. In the case of the animal, often a small chicken, he would take out his dagger and cut off it's feet, then wings, and finally head before discarding in to the ocean reminiscent of a bittersweet farewell. He dare not let the Brown Man see him on those occasions - God only knows what would happen in such an event.

So on Hallow's Eve, when both Jaenada and Darkskull were invited over to Roger's ship for a poker game, it could only be imagined how nervous Delmaria was. As his crew maneuvered the Sea Dragon to park next to Roger's ship, Delmaria could only help himself from buckling under at the knees. But he knew that Jaenada would be with him, and in that little fraction of self-reassurance did he walk easily along the plank that connected the two ships, while all of Renveil's crew piled half and half on to the other ships to throw drunken parties and tell ghost stories.

Captain Renveil wanted the ship to be emptied, save the three captains.

2

October 31st, 1702
Aboard The Harkaway
10:47 PM

The dark wood of the hull seemed only darker in the pitch black darkness that filled the hull of the ship, which creaked and cracked in to the void as the ship moved back and forth in the seas. Delmaria looked around in to the shadows as he and the other two captains stepped down the stairs from the main deck in to the hull, which didn't allow him to see anything aside from the outline of a few crates, banisters, and cannons. Off in the distance, however, was a small spot illuminated by a single candle, sitting atop a small wooden table.

They made their way down the center of the hull, not touching a single thing as they made their way closer. Delmaria kept himself a comfortable length behind Renveil, who walked quietly in front of him and Jaenada as they were led through the abyss of the ship. The only noise they heard was the squeak of a few rats that ran around on the far sides of the room, sputtering around lightly on their feet without being seen. The table that they looked over too became more and more detailed - elevated up to about chest level while sitting by a square support, the boards carved and dug in by cuts and daggers. The candle in the center of the table had melted to look like a small mountain of yellowish wave, and besides it a perfectly stacked deck of cards sat just out of reach of the goo that began to spread. Three chairs sat around the table at equal distance from one another, as though this all had been perfectly pre-planned.

Delmaria took the chair directly across from where Renveil sat, with Jaenada sitting at both of their sides from the back of the small table. The Brown Man ran a heavy hand over the table, scooping up the cards and shuffling them. As he toyed with the cards, he turned his head up to look at Darkskull. "Have you ever played poker, Mr. Darkskull."

The question caught him off by surprise. It sounded like a friendly question, but resounded the echoes of a despicable challenge. He played it off comfortably. "Not directly, but I've learned by watching over shoulders."

Renveil chuckled. "Well, you'll find that poker is a game that isn't just based on knowledge, from experience. I doubt very much that you'll be able to hold a candle to Mr. Jaenada or myself."

"Well, as far as I see it, that isn't the case. Acting comes by at natural talent - I'm sure that I could best the most avid of theater members at any turn of the tongue."

Another chuckle, thought this one was quieter - more off-balance. "Don't get ahead of yourself just yet, my boy." Renveil began passing the two base cards around the table. "A simple game of Pirate's Double, gentlemen."

Delmaria's cards slide across to him, and he quickly, picked them up in his right hand to see them. Though, he was more interested in keeping an eye on Captain Renveil than he was on his hand - after all, they weren't playing for anything other than bragging rights just yet.

Renveil seemed to be like a machine, winning nearly every hand that came his way. Jaenada and he passed between them an uncomfortable joke or two, but Delmaria stayed silent, watching the Brown Man as he went about playing. He had noticed that the two cards that once sat in his big tipped hat were no longer there, though they always were when he was out and about. He wondered if he had something up his sleeve - literally.

After a few more rounds of Roger continuously winning, Delmaria spoke up. "I must say, you play like a man that has lost his soul."

"Who says I haven't?" Roger smiled, then bursting out in laughter. Jaenada and Darkskull followed suit, but only as a way to keep the tensions low.

"I'm only commenting on how you work the cards so well. You seem to be a very superstitious man, what with all the decor you surround yourself with."

"Ah, I see." Renveil nodded, putting his cards down on the table. He clasped his hands together, looked around, and then threw them outward. "Everything I surround myself is simply for show, my friends. Nothing here is supernatural, nor is it superstitious - after all, every pirate has his own unique touch to things."

"I suppose you're right. My apologies." Delmaria smiled. He raised his hand in a measure of good will, but he still knew that Renveil was lying - he could see right through the deceptive smile that he had pasted on to his face.

Just then he saw Renveil's face freeze, following his hand as it went up. He looked up to his hand, and there, in the light of the candle, shimmered the crowning jewel of the ring that Marina had given to him just the day after they had met. Renveil's eyes were as wide as a bat's in the moonlight, and slowly he straightened himself as Delmaria slowly retracted his hand down to his lap. Renveil reached out a hand and motioned it, meaning for Darkskull to lift his hand back up. "W-where did you get that?"

Delmaria refused, gripping his pants leg tightly as he held his ground against the stare of the Brown Man. "I reserve my right to not tell you."

Roger stiffened his stare, then tried to play it off easily. "Easy boy, we're among friends. Just give me the ring." His hand his the table, and he held it open, waiting.

Delmaria slowly began to raise his ring hand, but as he did he shot out his arm and grabbed the pistol that sat at the side of his belt, pointing it out across the table to his opposing captain. But just as he did, he was met with the same resistance, Renveil's pistol (which was much larger) pointing back at him. Jaenada stood his feet, backing away from the table in protest. "Damn it you two, put them down!"

Rneveil licked his lips, slowly standing up from his chair, as did Delmaria. "Unfortunately Mr. Darkskull finds us at odds, my friend. If he would simply learn to let go, this would not be happening."

Now in a complete standoff, Delmaria gripped the handle of his pistol tighter. "And it seems as though Mr. Renveil thinks just because I may not have as much experience under my belt as he means I'm corruptible. I may be young but I've learned a lot on these waters, Captain. A lot."

And there they stood, both holding their guns just feet away from each other's face. It was a funny feeling, Delmaria felt, the feeling of staring in to the eyes of a man that may either kill you, or have you kill him. He had to be strong in this situation, for the first man to collapse would be the first man to die, put in the mercy of his enemy. Renveil seemed offset - as the night progressed he had become more and more offset, especially since he saw the ring. He knew that Renveil would make an attempt to take it from him at his weakest moment, but why? What would be so special to a pirate of such wealth that a simple ring would be his crowning achievement in this life?

It was not simply that he wanted to keep the ring from Renveil either, nor protect his honor - it all went back to Marina. Even after sailing for a month with his fellow captains he was never once allowed to see Marina, but he still had her ring to remind him of the warmth that filled his heart every time he saw her. It was what kept him awake and alive during the day, because without it he would be truly alone - alone in a crowd of sailors. He would not let Renveil further corrupt his security.

And finally, after a few tense moments, Renveil made his move. He turned the pistol to his side and shot in to the darkness, echoing loudly in the abyss of the hull. Following the shot, a painful squeak could be heard, before the room fell silent - including the silence of a small patter along the floor. Renveil then tossed his pistol down on to the table, and began to walk towards the staircase off in the distance. "C'mon gentlemen, we have a city to burn."

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Again, my apologies if this felt rushed. I made a lot of edits to this chapter mainly because I didn't want it to be twenty pages of endless psychology.

Not only that, but consider this your breather for what lies ahead. The next chapter is going to have lots of detail, story, and everything you've come to love in this story rolled up in to one. I'm considering it to be my Magnum Opus - but that's for you all to decide

Thanks for reading, mates! Be sure to comment!