Story '(ꭙ) s w i n d l e . "ᶦˡˡᵘˢᵗʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ" ᵖᶦʳᵃᵗᵉ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ

[rumblebee.]

This is a project in the works for a decade.
What you see here is an unedited fourth draft.
Feel free to leave comments,
I would love to hear your opinions!

W A R N I N G S
. violence....... . abuse....... . death....... . sexual tones​

C H A R A C T E R S
in order of appearence

​

x . vincenzo "vin" nicchi
.....has no idea what he's doing

x . isidor "sid" merlowe
.....scarlet's informant and skilled conman

x . arista prescott
.....alistair's right hand

x . serafina loxam
.....clement loxam's wife; renowned singer

x . clement loxam
.....owner of the trading fleet scarlet and alistair work under

x . alistair macewen
.....captain of the phantom empress

x . timothy thorton
.....first mate of the obsidian

x . warren elmwood
.....serves absolutely no purpose; only tolerated for his relation to scarlet

x . samuel "sam" devol
.....local drunk; tolerated because he keeps warren busy

x . scarlet elmwood
.....captain of the obsidian

x . benjamin "benny" huckins
.....cabin boy on the obsidian

x . tajo denton
.....second mate of the obsidian

x . leslie "fish" fisher
.....cool and animal caretaker of the obsidian

x . marie devol
.....tajo's wife and jean-claude's mother

x . jean-claude devol
.....son of tajo and marie

A R T W O R K
by me; beware of spoilers




da bois


benny, heiti, and [REDACTED]


vin and scarlet


thorton and [REDACTED]


vin and [REDACTED]


vin and [REDACTED]

​

 

[rumblebee.]

part one | GREED

---

Dearest sister.
The two words sat alone on the crisp parchment. Ink had soiled the corner beneath the hovering quill, unsure what more words to scratch onto the surface. With a sigh that made the candlelight quiver, the man holding the quill placed it into the inkwell, sitting back heavily in his chair.
“This is futile,” he muttered under his breath, words draped in a thick Italian accent. He stared at the parchment for a moment longer before snatching the quill once more and pressing it into the woven fibers.
I have found my way to the estate I inherited. It is pleasant here. Perhaps I will stay a while.
There was so much more he wanted to tell her. What he struggled with was how to put it in something as simple as a letter. His chestnut eyes drifted to the stack of maps and worn journals on the desk beside him. He planted his elbow on the surface and rested his head in his hand before concluding his draft.
Love always, Vin.
Sprinkling sand onto the paper solidified the words that existed, and a wax seal prevented the creation of more. It would have to do. Vin placed the letter on the table surface and stood from his chair. Snatching a loose ribbon, he used it to neatly pull back his hair, similar in color to wet sand. He turned to leave, but something caused him to pause.
Vin looked over his shoulder, gaze settling on the top most journal of a haphazard pile. “Dio aiutami.” The journal met darkness within his jacket pocket.

✗​

Why his father owned a home in southern La Florida, he would never have the opportunity to ask. Father. Such a strange word to use for a stranger.
Vin had already spent the better part of a month desperately seeking the help of someone willing to aid him in his expedition. Wandering the port had quickly gone from adventure to a chore. In the muggy midday heat, he even caught a sneer or two from faces that had become unfortunately familiar.
“Good luck, ya mad fool!” Vin turned towards the shout, unimpressed to see it had come from a man he had asked for assistance the day before. The way he chortled past his gray beard as he wound docking rope around his arm was unsettling.
Before he had time to process the harassment, however, a hand fell heavily upon his shoulder, causing the young man to jump with a startle.
“He talkin’ to you or me?” The raspy voice was followed by a breathy chuckle. The thick scent of the stranger’s musk forced Vin back a step where he eyed the stranger. Scraggly was the word he would have chosen, from the man’s patched duster and tangled salt and pepper curls to the occasional flash of silver among his yellowed teeth.
“Have you the need for luck as well?” Vin inquired warily. “Or are you just another mad fool?”
The man shrugged with a grin that reached his eyes from under the brim of his floppy hat. “Perhaps both.” He extended a bony hand. The other removed the hat from his head for a brief moment. “Isidor Merlowe,” he introduced. Vin was surprised to see that while one of his eyes was nearly black, as expected of his complexion, the other was more of a gold tone that was startling in contrast.
Intrigued, Vin accepted the man’s greeting with a swift shake. “Vincenzo Nicchi.”
Sid’s smile widened. He tipped his head with inquiry. “Well Vincenzo, I would be happy to lend you my services, seeing as you are in need of a well-versed traveler.” Vin’s demeanor immediately perked. Isidor, however, cut him off before a word could be spoken. “All I ask is that you humor me for a moment.”
Vin scoffed, a light chuckle drowned out by a passing carriage. “Va bien,” he accepted with a small wave of his hand.
Plunging a hand into his pocket, Sid retrieved a well worn leather bag sealed with a drawstring. He freed the knots and slid a deck of cards into his hand. Empty bag returning to pocket, the cards found nimble fingers. Vin stared, awestruck at the many ways he shuffled the deck as if it were easy as taking a breath. It was over too soon as he fanned them out over a palm. “Pick one,” he instructed.
Vin’s eyes lingered on the patterned backs of the cards for a long moment. His hovering hand eventually chose its target, revealing vibrant colors as he placed it upon the others.
Vin’s expression twisted, hand retracting suddenly when he observed a suit of not diamond nor spade. He instinctively crossed himself, then set an accusing glare on the man, who merely sneered.
“The Hanged Man,” Sid announced. He brought the deck back together, snatching Vin’s card between two fingers. “Fitting, don’t you think?”
“Are you a stregone?” Vin asked in a hushed tone. “A witch?”
Isidor raised a brow. “Would you change your mind if I was?” The question was met with a stretch of silence before the stranger burst into a laugh. “Witches don’t exist, mate. If they did, I’d be cursed to the grave by now. Besides,” he added, “I would think a man seeking such worldly treasures would be more steeled to the idea of witchcraft.”
Vin met his mismatched gaze and the weight of the journal in his pocket seemed to grow. He was jostled from his deep thought as another stranger collided with his shoulder. Stumbling, he turned towards his assailant, who began to spew a string of apology.
“S-Sorry, mister!” The adolescent boy stammered through gapped teeth. A bundle of orange fur groaned in his arms. He calmed the poor beast and bowed his head apologetically. “Sorry!” He repeated, bounding off in a hurry.
Vin watched the boy run off in confusion for a moment before returning to his previous conversation. When he turned around, however, his scruffy acquaintance was nowhere to be seen.
He turned his head left, right, and left again as his brows knit in growing concern. His hand dove into each pocket on his person, only to find them empty.
“Merda!” He hissed as panic washed over him. Suddenly the sound of wooden wheels colliding with pebbles and the yelling of harsh voices over crashing waves became far louder.
He did not belong here.
Vin sat heavily on a roadside bench, blinking sway tears of frustration. The splintered wood creaked under his weight. He stared at his shoes, once fine and now caked in filth. His elbows found his knees, and his hands his face. He was a fool to believe grand adventure awaited him in a world that did not know him.

Around his neck hung the only remaining treasure that he carried. He grasped it unknowingly, head limp as he clung to the ring. He should never have left home, but now he feared he would find nothing waiting for him there but the pain he had run from to begin with.
In his mind Vin saw the painted image of a man dangling helplessly by an ankle, the very one he had drawn from Isidor’s tarot deck. Considering he did not feel any option available to him was the correct one, he felt the fortune had perhaps been trying to warn him of himself.
In a moment, the sea breeze brought with it the overwhelming chill of being watched. Vin snapped his head up to meet the eye of a Caribbean woman on the opposite side of the road. She leaned against a building as if she had gotten tired of waiting for him to notice her. A satisfied smirk reached her lips and she turned the corner, disappearing into an alleyway.
Though he knew it to be foolish, Vin was compelled to follow her. She did not seem to be any painted lady he had seen wandering the streets, nor any lady for that matter. In a matter of seconds he was on his feet with a perplexed expression. He rushed briskly across the road and glanced over his shoulder before ducking behind the stone building.
Vin let out a small yelp of surprise when he was yanked deeper into the shadows by his arm. A backstep to escape only pressed his back against the wall with the woman cornering him there, still wearing the same smirk.
“I knew you would follow,” she teased in a thick accent he did not recognize.
“Who are you?” He asked, befuddlement overpowering his attempt at a demand. “What do you want from me?”
“Ya are Luis’ boy,” she stated in a slow tone that felt serpentine.
Vin narrowed his eyes, adrenaline continuing to course through his chest. “That does not answer my questions,” he pointed out.
“Aye,” she admitted, stepping back as if in surrender. “Arista Prescott.” She crossed her arms and stared at him a moment. “Spittin’ image,” she mused. “Did ya get his knack for tievin’ as well?”
Vin scoffed, ready to defend his parentage. He paused, however, upon realizing that if this woman had spent even a moment in his father’s presence, it would have been more than he ever had. Hell, the man could have stolen the crown jewels of England and he would have never known. “I have never stolen anything in my life,” he answered honestly.
“Does not mean ya don’t have the talent,” Arista responded, then paused. “I have a proposition for ya, love.”
“If you expect me to steal-”
He was hastily cut off when Arista held up a hand. “Hear me out,” she snapped in a startling tone. “My employer is a wealty man. If ya help him this once, he can repay ya wit the help you seek.”
Vin perked up, albeit warily, at the offer. “He would help me to seek out the talismans?”
She only nodded slowly and slunk closer. “What do ya say?”
Vin released a heavy sigh. He did not trust the woman that stood in front of him, but left with only maps and no journal of notes to decipher them, he saw no other option. “What would you have me do?”

 

[rumblebee.]

At least a party would be familiar territory.
A crowd was possibly the only thing Vin knew how to navigate himself through. Perhaps it would lend him the finesse he would need for such a heist. His fingers trembled, fiddling with the silver buttons along his front as he stared out the carriage window. The sound of his own heavy sigh briefly masked the clatter of pebbles underwheel. He tried not to dwell on the situation too much, for fear he would lose the only chance he had found to chase his own ambitions.
Vin closed his eyes and attempted to replay Arista’s instructions in his head.
Luis was invited. Find that invitation.
A jolt flung his eyes open once more and he realized the carriage had stopped. Peeking out the window, Vin observed the large estate they had come to. Well dressed guests mingled with the manicured gardens, light and laughter streaming from the windows. He popped the door open, cautiously stepping down onto the pathway that split the lawn. With a final deep breath, he straightened his spine and made his way towards the crowd.
Vin put on his friendliest face as he reached the doorman. “Good day, sir,” he greeted casually.
The man nodded in turn. “Good day. Invitation?”
“Of course,” Vin responded assuringly. He reached into the pocket of the sky blue fabrics he wore and retrieved a slip of paper he had found after scouring every surface in his father’s house.
The man read the paper then eyed Vin. He began to grow nervous until the stranger cracked a smile. “I expected a more weathered face for a man of such standing.”
Vin released a laugh of relief and gave a small shake of his head. “It is my father with the standing,” he corrected. “I am only here in his stead.”
The man’s brows raised. “I did not know Luis had a son. Is your father well?”
Vin hesitated a moment before nodding. “Yes,” he assured the man. “Only out of town.”
“On a grand adventure, if the rumors ring true!” The man exclaimed with a hearty laugh. He returned the invite to Vin’s hand. “Enjoy the night, mister Asconza.”
“I should well enough for two,” Vin promised with a shared chuckle before walking past and disappearing beyond the door. His practiced grin immediately fell, palms sweating from the encounter. He had hardly deceived the man and he still felt as though he’d done something irreparably wrong.
It seemed as though every sound that reached his ears was joyous chattering or the clink of a glass. He brushed against fine fabrics of vibrant colors as he wove through the guests, unable to help himself from admiring the intricate paintings that hung from the walls and the white pillars that aided them in keeping the magnificent structure standing.
He recalled the last time he had been to an event as extravagant was at his own–
“Excuse me.” The singsong voice pried him from his thoughts and he turned to meet the eye of an inquisitive woman. She wore powder on her face and a smirk behind her lips, her dark hair done in intricate curls. Just a few streaks of silver graced her temples, her dress the same shade as the rouge she wore. “I do believe you are the only face here I do not know,” she mused.
He plastered on a smile once more and took her hand as she offered it. “Vincenzo Ni- de Asconza,” he quickly corrected. “Madam.”
“Asconza?” She giggled as a blush reached her cheeks. “I believe I invited Luis, not his…” she trailed off and gestured to Vin with a gloved hand adorned with a single jewel.
“Son, Madam,” he informed her.
“Son!” She exclaimed, followed by a laugh and dramatic sigh. “That man sure is full of secrets,” she sang. The woman touched her hand to his cheek. “I can see his charm in your face,” she commented with a hint of longing that made Vin’s nerves jump.
He laughed nervously and took a half step away from her touch. “You knew him well, then?” he asked curiously.
“Oh, yes.” She giggled, silencing herself with a clearing of her throat. “He worked with my husband often,” she informed Vin. “Though I’m sure you’re familiar, I don’t wish to bore you with talk of business.” She waved her hand as if to shoo the thought away.
“Forgive me, Madam,” Vin mused, “but I do not think I caught your name.”
She touched her fingertips to her chest. “Where are my manners,” she scoffed. “Serafina Loxam, darling.” She gazed at him a moment before tipping her head to the side. “Come, allow me to introduce you to my husband. I’m curious to see if you will charm him as your father did.”
Vin’s heart leapt into his throat as he followed her through the sea of people. Loxam. Not only was that the name printed on the invitation, but it was precisely who he was meant to find.
A gold ring with twin rubies is what Arista had told him he would be stealing right off the hand of the party’s gracious host.
He felt a lump in his throat threaten to choke him when they approached a group of men standing in a circle. One was telling what seemed to be a dramatic story that had the others jeering. The man’s graying hair was well groomed, his silver attire so well fitting it almost seemed like a second skin. Upon their approach, he raised his glass of champagne in a warm greeting to his wife. The men in the circle parted to allow them through.

STOP LOOKING AT THEIR ARMS. STOP IT.
“My lovely wife,” he announced cheerfully, exchanging a brief kiss with her. He looked up at Vin. “Who is it you’ve brought me?”
“This is Vincenzo de Asconza,” she introduced with a grin towards Vin like a cat eyeing prey. “Luis’s boy, here in his father’s stead,” she added.
“Ah, of course!” The man responded. “I believe I heard tale of you by your father’s word a time or two.”
Vin couldn’t help but allow a laugh to escape. “You seem to be the first.”
His words were met by a chuckle that encircled him. “I believe you will be sufficient entertainment in your father’s absence, my boy. Clement Loxam.” He reached out a hand that Vin instinctively studied before shaking. No ring. His eyes flickered to the other hand. Bare.
Vin cleared his throat and returned the smile. “A pleasure to be welcomed.”
“Clement was just gracing us with a deliciously devious story.” The man that piped up stood beside Loxam. He wore a navy and green tartan with an unmistakable Highland accent to match. His blue eyes met Vin’s with a stare just a bit too long for comfort.
“Ah, yes!” Loxam downed the remainder of his champagne. He placed the glass onto a tray carried by a servant beside him, snagging two more glasses and handing one to Vin with a nod, which he readily accepted. “Where was I?”
“Two men with broken arms and a third dead, Sir,” the Scotsman answered.
“Of course! Thank you, Alistair.” Loxam cleared his throat. “And that’s how I met Scarlet Elmwood.”
The circle joined him in erupting laughter, save for Vin and a single other.
“Speaking of, where is your lovely patron this evening, Mister Thorton?”
Vin turned his attention to the one man who had not cracked a smile; tall with narrowed features and an intimidatingly rigid stance.
Thorton forced the corner of his mouth to rise. “She was, unfortunately, unable to attend, Sir.”
“Unable or unwilling?” Alistair taunted.
Thorton turned his gaze to the black-haired man with accusation in his dark eyes. “It is true she does not fare well at formal occasions,” he admitted flatly.
Serafina chimed in with a disgusted scoff, snagging a champagne glass herself. “All the better that she doesn’t show,” the woman sneered in distaste. She pressed her lips to the rim of the glass and muttered, “Never have I met such a graceless woman.”
“Now dear,” Loxam soothed, “let’s not speak ill of those in my employ.”
“A woman in the trade industry?” Vin spoke with genuine surprise.
“Surely you’ve heard word of the more infamous among my recruits,” Loxam responded.
“I regret to say I have not,” Vin mused curiously.
Serafina offered a smile and patted a hand onto her husband’s chest. “A subject I would prefer to stray from.” Her champagne glass was gone and replaced after a single gulp. “Now,” she sighed, “I must remove myself if I am to introduce Mister Asconza to the remainder of our guests.”
“Naturally,” Loxam agreed, stepping back to allow her to pass. He offered Vin a nod. “I don’t doubt the chance to speak again will arise soon.”
Vin scrambled for an excuse to stay and get closer to Loxam, not wanting to flee his chance without the ring. He hardly had the opportunity to stammer out a protest before Serafina snagged him by the arm, dragging him away from his target.

 

[rumblebee.]

mild sexual assault

---

The woman with a string of pink pearls was Harriet Tinneman.
The man with a wig that smelled of must and a few extra pounds was Jacob Reese.
If he was ever in the market for exotic fruits, Henry Quentin was the one to talk to.
Vin struggled to remain engaged with each new person Serafina introduced him to. He continued to glance over his shoulder at the gathering they had fled. On the other hand, he was surprised to find how many people were familiar with his father, though many had quite a few unsavory opinions. The enigma of his parentage remained a point of curiosity.
Conversations began to drag on the more champagne Serafina consumed. Multiple times Vin had attempted to slink away, but each time she would thwart his escape.
He stood awkwardly as she grew ever tipsy and used his arm to steady herself. It wasn’t until she and another older woman began a war to overshadow each other that something grabbed his attention.
“It was a gift from Clement,” she exclaimed smugly, grasping a chain around her neck that had previously been hidden in her bodice. A gold ring with two perfectly cut rubies dangled from the end. “He forbade me to wear it. He said it would incite envy amongst the other women.”
The plump white-haired woman scoffed. “So much fuss over a trinket? Hardly,” she retorted with a roll of her eyes.
“I find it to be a stunning piece,” Vin chimed in.
Serafina turned to face him with a satisfied grin, gently dangling the ring over her chest.
“I’m sure you do, Mister Asconza,” she purred. “In fact, if you’re a fan of such a trinket, I would be eager to show you the rest of my… Collection.” Her cheeks flushed with alcohol, her grip on his arm tightening. She turned to the other woman. “Excuse us, Georgina. There’s just so little time and so many fine people to meet.”
Vin offered the woman a nod as Serafina dragged him away yet again. She led him by the hand through the crowd until it began to fade, at which point the two slipped through a wide doorway into an unoccupied room.
“Forgive me, Madam,” Vin spoke. “Should we stray so far from the party?”
She pulled him hastily around the last corner with a line of sight and pressed closer to him until Vin’s back was pressed firmly against the wall.
“Don’t play naive with me, you little fox,” she slurred fiercely.
“Eh-” Vin searched for the words while repeatedly pushing her hands back to her sides. “Madam, I think you should-”
Serafina interrupted with a cackle. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
She lifted her hands and slammed them against his chest, knocking him back into the wall. Sucking air through his teeth, he grasped her wrists in a gentle grip.
Serafina tiptoed until he could smell the champagne on her breath. “I want to know if your dear father passed down more than just his charm.”
Before he pushed her away, Vin paused for a moment in thought. He bit his lip in distaste at humoring her, but at the same time, he had not been closer to the ring the whole night.
He slipped his grasp from her wrists to caress her neck. “Ah, signora,” he muttered, proceeding to clear his throat. “You are truly… Irresistible.”
“Enough words,” she demanded before crushing her lips against his.
Vin froze for a moment, heart racing as he fumbled to unclasp the chain around her neck. Her sloppy kisses migrated to his cheek, her arms wrapped around his neck. Face scrunching, he finally managed to unclip the ring and slip it into his pocket.

Hastily, he pushed her away by the shoulders and she stared at him with confused eyes.
“No, not here,” he whispered dramatically. She clasped her hands together and slumped. He motioned her to a velvet lounge upon which she draped with a pitiful sigh. “Tonight you should rest.”
“You’re right.” She curled her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him down to whisper in his ear. “Clement leaves in a fortnight.” The sentence was punctuated with a small nip.
Vin slipped away from her with a tense laugh. “Until then.” He turned on a heel and hastily made way for the doorway, composed expression faltering into wide eyes and a clenched jaw. “Buon Dio,” he hissed breathlessly. He was halted in his tracks when he caught a glimpse of himself in an adorned mirror. Crimson was smeared across his face and he began to furiously wipe it off. To his surprise, the hostess proved thievery the simplest task of the night.
After the excitement settled to a low buzz in his stomach, lingering a while seemed like the wise thing to do. Vin knew how it would look if he and the hostess disappeared simultaneously after she spent the evening on his arm. The last thing he needed was to draw in any unwanted attention. As he rejoined the fray, he was acutely aware of the weight such a small object put in his pocket. He drew a calming breath to banish the tightness from his chest before setting his sights directly on Loxam.
Vin approached the man with confident strides, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Loxam noticed his approach and gestured to him with a jeer, excusing himself from his current conversation. “My boy! Have you finally escaped my wife’s clutches?”
Vin exchanged a chuckle with the man and nodded in agreement. “I believe she decided to retire for the night,” he informed him.
Loxam heaved a sigh and hung his head in good humor. “The woman never could hold her liquor. So what brings you to the colonies?” He inquired. Vin only looked at him in surprise and he smirked. “Your accent gives you away, lad. Where in Italy are you from?”
“Tuscana,” Vin responded cautiously.
“Ah, yes, Luis did tell me of a woman he met there some years ago,” Loxam mused.
Vin struggled to find words for a moment before continuing the conversation. “I am… Surprised he spoke of me,” Vin admitted.
“Not to many,” Loxam specified. “Your father was not close to many people, myself being one of few exceptions.”
Vin narrowed his eyes at the man, his heart briefly skipping. “Was?” As far as he could tell, not another soul in the estate had known of his father’s fate.
“Apologies,” Loxam said hastily. “Though Luis was dear to me, he was–excuse me for saying so bluntly–a coward. I don’t think he would invite you here if he expected to face you.”
Vin nodded slowly, processing the words. “It only surprised me, seeing as no one else here seems to suspect anything dire.”
“Luis had a habit of disappearing,” Loxam explained with a long release of breath. “His sudden lack of presence is a surprise to no one who doesn’t know better.”
“You knew him well,” Vin muttered, almost bitterly.
Loxam only nodded solemnly before his expression lightened once again. He nudged Vin’s arm to snatch his attention back from the gloom. “You never told me why you came to my lovely gathering,” he pried.
Vin cleared his throat to buy himself an extra second to think of a response. “Uh- trade,” he answered with a nod. “My father left me his estate, and I figured I would search for an opportunity in his profession while I was here.”
Loxam laughed. “Well, as you know, I now have an open position,” he jeered. “Alas, I would prefer to speak of business at a designated time and not during–” he gestured around him with outstretched arms. “Festivities.”
“Of course,” Vin nodded, returning the smile. “I hardly expected you to.”
“So!” Loxam continued, slapping a hand onto Vin’s shoulder. “Do you plan on staying in Florida?”
“I hope to travel,” Vin answered honestly. “I would like work to take me around the world.”
Loxam grinned as if Vin had said exactly what he wanted to hear. “Are you not leaving anything behind in Tuscany?” The older man teased. “Does a young man of your wit have no family?”
Vin’s hand instinctively flew to his chest, briefly brushing the fabric there before forcing it back to his side. He gave a curt shake of his head. “My wife passed,” he responded. “Almost two years ago now.”
Loxam’s brows furled in genuine distress. “What a tragedy,” he murmured. “Come! Let us mingle and speak of the future rather than the past.”
Vin forced a smile on his face and trailed Loxam as he searched for others to pull into their conversation. Vin stopped short, however, when another man bumped into him, spilling a full glass down his front.
“I am so sorry.” The droll belonged to the man Vin recognized as Alistair from earlier. Loxam stopped to look over his shoulder with a furrowed brow.
Tight-lipped, Vin blew a sigh out his nose. “It is alright,” he assured, attempting to brush off any remaining droplets.
“You’re a damned clutz, MacEwen,” Loxam growled to Alistair.
“Apologies,” Alistair prattled. He snagged Vin’s arm and pulled him along. “Dunnae worry yourself, we’ll get that right out.”
Vin followed Alistair’s lead, all the while aware of the glare Loxam bore into the man’s skull.
After a few paces and just as many moments of Vin submitting to be yet another person’s ragdoll for the night, Alistair took a sharp turn towards a back door.
“I was… Certain the washroom was that way,” Vin protested. The grip on his arm only tightened, Alistair responding only with silence. The stout man pulled Vin down a few steps into a less populated garden, cornering him against the building.
“The ring.” Alistair barked in a quiet voice. A twitch of his eyebrow went all but unnoticed. He must have been Arista’s employer.
Vin glanced around nervously, eyeing a few patrons wandering the night around them. “Here?” He whispered back.
Alistair only gestured angrily with his open palm, jaw clenched. Eyes darting left and right, Vin heaved a sigh and dug in his pocket. He’d hardly revealed the jewel before it was snatched from his hand, finding a new home in Alistair’s coat. Without a glance, he turned to walk away.
“Wait!” Vin snapped, snagging the man by the arm. Alistair jerked his arm free and stared at him with an offended glare. “What now?”
“I dunnae catch your meanin’,” Alistair said. “I need nothing more from you.”
Vin twisted his face in irritation. “Arista promised–”
He was interrupted by a condescending laugh. “I dunnae care what the witch said to get you here lad, but you’ve served your purpose and I best not be seein’ you again.”
He turned to make his way back inside. “Wait!” Vin called helplessly. The man did not turn. Growling under his breath, Vin whipped around and knit his fingers behind his head. He had now been made a fool of not once, but twice, with nothing to show for his efforts. The chill began to seep through his drenched clothing and he kicked a rock into a nearby bush.
He paused for a moment to take a deep breath. Dropping his arms back to his sides, he began to take sure strides through the dew-sopped grass. He spared not one glance over his shoulder as he left the Loxam property, marching angrily along the dirt road.
With any luck, he would be on his way home before the next sunset.

 

[rumblebee.]

The night was sleepless. Vin’s fine clothes, dusty and wet, were strewn upon the floor carelessly. He felt like a ghost as he laid in the rickety bed and stared at the ceiling. The open window allowed a night breeze to tickle the curtains. The only sound that permeated the room was that of distant frogs and crickets, but he did not hear them. His mind was too full of his mother’s voice, calling him a fool and begging him to stay. At the time he believed her to be selfish, but she was wiser than he knew. She knew he was not built for anything more than a mundane life. For the first time, he didn’t consider it an insult.
For all he knew, the sun could have been seconds from rising by the time he heard a knock on the window.
The bed cracked under the sudden movement as he jumped, violently pitched back into reality. Vin froze, waiting for silence to comfort him into believing the noise to be part of his imagination. To his dismay, it sounded again once more.
“Hey, kid,” a whisper sounded outside the open window. “I know you hear me, hanged man.”
Anger rising to accompany his fear, Vin threw the blankets from himself and rushed towards the voice in his nightclothes. Pulling the gap open wider, he leaned on the sill and peeked his head out.
A figure leaned against the wall, face shrouded by the shadow of a limp hat. The flash of silver in his grin, however, was enough for Vin to recognize Isidor in the dim moonlight.

“What do you want?” Vin snapped. “I have nothing left for you to take.”
“Come now, we both know that’s not true.” Isidor struck a match on the wall, his features flickering as he lit a cigar between his teeth.
Vin scoffed. “If you want the maps, I will gladly hand them over to you,” he informed him. “I want nothing to do with them.”
As he waved the match out, Isidor’s playful surprise continued to be illuminated by the cigar embers. “Yer singin’ quite a different tune than the other day.”
“You sure saw to that,” Vin retorted.
Brows raising, Isidor touched a hand to his chest. “Well I’m here to redeem myself.”
Vin scoffed. “It is too late.”
Isidor turned and placed his hands on either side of the window, leaning close enough for Vin to recoil. “Have ye given up on adventure so easily?” He teased.
Vin paused, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why?” He asked with an abundance of caution.
Isidor pulled a familiar journal out of his pocket. Vin’s brows furrowed. Isidor studied his reaction and smirked. “My captain found these little notes quite interestin’. She told me not to come back without the maps, or without the one that knows what these scribbles mean.”
“And if I refuse?”
Isidor chuckled. “Then I hope that bed has room for two, ‘cause I won’t be showin’ my face on that ship again.” He held the journal out to Vin, who stared at it for an exceedingly long moment.
Stepping forward, Vin snatched the journal from Isidor’s hand. He studied it, running his hand over the leather front. “Why should I trust you?” He inquired.
Isidor stepped lazily back from the window and shrugged. “Ye shouldn’t.”
Something within Vin possessed him to crack a hint of a smile. “Alright.” Before Isidor could speak, he drew a quick breath. “Your captain, she is a woman?” He asked curiously.
“Aye,” Isidor responded, then raised a brow. “That a problem?”
Vin shook his head. “I do not suppose it would be Scarlet Elmwood?”
“So ye heard of her, then.”
Vin released a breathless laugh. “Only that she is infamous.”
Isidor crossed his arms with a crooked smile, gesturing towards the docks with a jerk of his head. “She expects us by sunrise.”
Looking up at the sky, Vin noticed the slight hue of pink that threatened the start of a new day. With a last glance at Isidor, he paused before rushing to the main room. “Is your name truly Isidor?” He inquired.
Humor reached the man’s expression. “Sid’ll do.”
After a few panicked minutes, Vin emerged from the house with a casual jacket over his nightshirt and a tube of documents slung over his shoulder. His grip remained on the doorknob for far too long. He stared at the door, focusing on the sound of his own breathing and the stir in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, unsure whether the nausea was a result of anxiety or overwhelming relief that he wouldn’t have to return home after all. Guilt of the thought was quickly pierced by a sharp whistle.
“Get on with it,” Sid pressed, guiding him away with a firm hand on the shoulder. “Sun’s almost up.”
Vin looked up at him, fear seeping through his expression. “No tricks?”
Sid only chuckled and increased his pace, Vin hustling to keep up. Instinctively, he slipped his hand into his pocket to make sure the journal remained. He was relieved to feel the rough surface, along with another foreign object. Vin pulled the card out of his pocket and recognized the suit as one of Sid’s tarots. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, carefully slipping the World back into his pocket.

 

[rumblebee.]

The port was already bustling as the sun began its ascent over the horizon. Vin trailed behind Sid with a spring in his step despite the possible lurking dangers. He knew that it was foolish of him to trust a stranger that had already betrayed him, but he shoved the thought aside. The thought of returning home to his wife’s ghost terrified him more than whatever swindle fate could bring.
Morning mist swirled around the many docked ships. Splintering wood creaked underfoot, accompanied by the light splash of waves. Gulls were heard but not seen in the fog, their cries mingling with those of working men. As they passed one merchant sloop after another, Vin wondered with each if it was the one they were to embark upon. Sid only continued to walk, and Vin continued to follow.
Sid made a sharp turn at the end of the dock, wandering towards what seemed to be nothing at all. That is, until he jumped off the edge and landed in a rowboat with a thud.
Vin paused and stared at him in confusion, apparently clear enough for Sid to explain as he unwound the rope tethering the vessel.
“The Obsidian’s too big to dock here,” he explained casually. “Gotta take this out to it.”
Vin shifted on his feet, looking out into the fog. “I see nothing,” he muttered.
“It’s out there,” Sid assured him, then looked up past the brim of his hat. “You comin’?”
Taking a deep breath, Vin ventured forward and carefully lowered himself into the rowboat, nearly losing his footing on the unsteady thing once or twice. As the two plopped onto their respective benches, Sid plucked a lantern from the ground. He flicked the glass door open and snagged the still smoldering cigar from his lips, using it to light the candle within. He held out the lantern to Vin. “Take this,” he muttered, and Vin did just that.
The silence was eerie, the bustle of the docks fading as Sid rowed further into the water. As he held the lantern high, Vin stared over Sid’s head, waiting anxiously for something to appear. Just as the chill had begun to cling to his skin, he spotted a ship’s silhouette taking form in the distance. The only color of the haunting shape was the dawn light that touched the blood red sails. He would have found it beautiful, under most circumstances. Unfortunately, due to those of their approach, he only felt the soft tug of fear.
“Sid?” It felt strange to break the quiet; even in a near whisper his voice sounded far too loud.
“Aye?” Sid raised a brow.
Vin only continued to stare at the looming ship as they drew ever nearer. “Why would your captain invite me? Why not take the maps and solve them herself?”
Sid shrugged. “Why, when you’ve already got a head start? Besides,” he sighed with a tip of his head. “A good pair of hands is always welcome. Why?” He added in a teasing manner. “Not gettin’ cold feet, are ya?”
Vin shook his head and shifted in his seat.
Sid grinned. “Good.” He twisted around and yelled out, his voice echoing off the ship’s flank. The shadow of a person was seen looking over the rail for a split second before the ropes began to shift. As a ladder tumbled down the side, Sid began to secure either end of the rowboat to additional ropes.
Once he was done, Sid craned his neck upward and held his arms out. “Told ya he’d come.”
Face twisting, Vin followed his gaze upward to two figures leaning on the rail. One with a blonde mop of curls rolled his eyes and flicked a coin at the smug and somehow more disheveled brunette beside him. Their bickering was inaudible, lost to the wind as they wandered from the edge. Grabbing hold of the ladder Sid gestured with a jerk of his head. “Come on, then,” he said encouragingly. “Captain’s not a patient woman.”
Swallowing hard, Vin followed Sid up the ladder. As he reached the top, Sid offered a hand and helped to haul him onto the deck. “Grazie,” Vin muttered. Straightening, he paused, noticing dozens of eyes on him as their owners pretended to keep busy around the deck. He felt snickers as well as glares bore into his skull, and he ducked his head low to avoid any eye contact. His heart fluttered, feeling as though he was a sheep among wolves. He scurried after Sid, watching the thick mist swirl around his boots with each step.
Vin paused at the bottom of a staircase, his eyes following the curve upwards. They led to a small overhanging balcony with only large double doors. The steps continued up to the helm above the entryway. The rising sun cast a crimson hue through the sails and onto the deck, red light beams dancing through the mist. It felt like a dream as Vin trudged up the stairs, passing through the heavy doors once they creaked open.
Stumbling into the captain’s cabin, Vin was hit with the intense smell of exotic incense and cigars. Smoke replaced the mist, amber from a stained glass window washing the room in warmer tones. Sconces and weapons littered the walls, displayed with an air of pride. Various chests and tables were pressed against the edges of the room, scattered with unconventional treasures and jewels and jars of horrendous things; tentacles, vipers, and a frame full of dead moths. Carelessly placed candles burning with furious flames melted their wax off edges and onto unfortunately placed objects. A table sat askew upon dusty rugs as the focus of the room, maps and curious paper weights strewn upon it.
Vin brought a fist to his mouth, stifling a cough in the suffocating air. Blinking through his watering eyes, he noticed two figures at the table greet them with narrowed eyes.

“Yer late.” The voice came from a seated woman who Vin assumed must be the captain. He pinched his brows together, unsure of what he expected, but sure she was not it. Her wild red curls were haphazardly pinned back, tassels of beads and braids tangled within them. Charcoal accentuated her shockingly pale eyes, lips red as blood and jacket made of the finest patterns, the likes of which he’d never seen in Italy.
The man that stood beside her, however, was familiar to Vin. He recognized the stoic man from Loxam’s party, still presented as neat and stiff as a soldier.
“But not empty handed,” Sid responded cheekily to the captain’s remark. “Might I introduce, captain, Vin-”
“Vincenzo Giovanni Nicchi,” Vin managed to stammer, stepping forward. He tipped his head in greeting. “A pleasure.”
“Captain Scarlet Elmwood of the Obsidian,” Sid continued, eyeing Vin. “And her first mate, Timothy Thorton.”
“I believe we’ve met,” Thorton stated flatly. “Though, as I recall, it was as Vincenzo de Asconza.”
“A misunderstanding,” Vin corrected. “I found it simpler at the time to entertain the assumption that my surname was my father’s.”
Thorton’s stare remained untrusting. “A deception already,” he voiced in faux admiration. “Hardly a positive first impression.”
“Enough,” Scarlet snapped with a flick of her hand. With a huff, she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Trust is an unnecessary luxury,” she muttered pointedly. With a wave, she gestured to the tabletop before her. “Isidor says you bring an opportunity.”
Vin paused before nodding and approaching the table, pulling the tube over his head. He opened the cap and shook out some rolled up maps, spreading them out upon the surface. Scarlet leaned forward, eyes scanning the parchment with growing interest. Vin pulled the journal from his pocket and threw it on top.
“These are all the maps needed to track the clues my father recorded in this journal,” he stated. “Not much of it is written plainly,” he explained, “but I believe I have an idea of how he encrypted his findings.”
After a moment of staring at the maps, Scarlet drew a breath to speak. “And what do ye plan to do with the talismans should ye find them?”
Vin shifted uneasily. “Um…” he sighed, raising his brows. “I have not thought about it,” he admitted.
Scarlet nodded and pushed herself to her feet. “I’ll tell ye what I think,” she said slowly, wandering around the table. “I think the supposed curse on the talismans is horse shite. I also think that there are fools in this world willing to pay well for horse shite curses.” Her footsteps were heavy as she sauntered towards Vin. He found her strangely intimidating, despite the fact that she barely reached his nose in height. “So once we find these talismans, we sell them to the highest bidder, ye take a cut and be on yer way. Yeah?”
Vin fidgeted with his hands. “Actually…” All three pairs of eyes looked to him in surprise, waiting for the next words to escape his mouth. He looked between them before settling his gaze on Scarlet. “I was hoping to secure a place on your crew,” he stated with growing confidence. “In exchange, I would take only a small cut of the profit.”
An amused grin began to creep across Scarlet’s face as she stifled a laugh. She closed the space between them and snatched his hand. Vin’s heart leaped in surprise when she ran her fingertips along his palm before releasing her grip. “Yer hands are softer than a babe’s arse,” she said. “I don’t think you’ve lifted a finger in yer life.”
Determined anger shadowed over Vin’s face. “That is something I have traveled a long way to remedy,” he retorted. “I am willing to earn my keep on this ship, captain, in exchange for your word that I can stay.”
Thorton and Sid both turned their attention to Scarlet, who raised a brow at the man. She pursed her lips in thought. “Alright,” she agreed coolly. “But if ye changer ye mind, the journal stays with me.”
“Deal.” Vin held out his hand without hesitation. Scarlet took it with a firm shake, staring into what felt like his very soul as she tried to untangle whatever hid behind his eyes.
“We’re here until dawn tomorrow,” Scarlet informed him. “After that we have business on an island nearby. Ye have until we’ve concluded our business there to have the first location.” Vin nodded affirmatively. In a snap, she released her grip and turned her head to Sid. “He’ll be Benny’s responsibility,” she informed the scraggly man, who nodded. With a final glance at the two, she shooed them away with a wave of her hand.
Tapping Vin’s arm, Sid motioned for him to follow. Vin snatched the journal off the table before rushing after him, leaving the room with a slam of the twin doors.

 

[rumblebee.]

“Benny!” Sid called out the name from the balcony before dissenting the stairs to the deck. Vin hesitantly followed, aware once again of the eyes trained on him.
Vin turned his head towards the sound of a scoff nearby. The two men from earlier stood side by side, leaning against the ship’s rail. The blonde had his nose scrunched, passing yet another coin to the taller man beside him. “Not even a scratch,” he grumbled. He flung his arm towards Vin with an exasperated gesture. “Why can’t I ever leave that room without a fat lip?”
“‘Cause yer annoyin’, mate,” the brunette cackled. He slapped a beefy hand onto the smaller man’s shoulder, causing him to stagger. “And half the time, ye deserve it.”

Vin eyed them before drawing a breath to speak. “Are you two betting on me?”
Both of them looked over at him. “On… And against,” the brunette confirmed.
The blonde nodded in affirmation. “It really is prime gambling.”
His companion rammed an elbow into his arm. “It’s not gamblin’ if ye know yer gonna win.”
Vin scoffed but couldn’t hide the amusement from his face. He extended an arm in greeting. “Vincenzo Nicchi.”
Neither of them made a move to shake his hand, each raising an eyebrow. “Sam,” the taller one huffed. He jerked a thumb towards the other. “Pipsqueak’s Warren.”
“I don’t suppose there’s something we can call you with… Less syllables,” Warren voiced in distaste.
Vin awkwardly retracted his reach. “Uh- Vin.”
Warren nodded then turned to whisper to Sam, “Is that a real name?”
Sam only shrugged.
“Vin!” Sid’s voice cut through their conversation. Vin turned to see him approaching with, to his surprise, another familiar face trailing behind him. Vin’s expression soured.
“This is Benny,” Sid introduced. “He’s in charge of ya.”
“He pickpocketed me,” Vin hissed in protest.
Sid laughed. “So did I, mate,” he pointed out. “Good thing we did, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Benny slid up and draped an arm over Vin’s shoulders. “No hard feelin’s,” he spoke through a gapped tooth and offered a wink and pat before Vin shrugged him off.
“Hold on, why’s the kid in charge of him?” Warren protested.
“Because the only others with enough time are you two and you’re both useless,” Sid snapped.
“I don’t want that responsibility,” Sam agreed with a shake of his head.
“Right,” Sid huffed. “Benny, make sure he earns his keep.” His eyes flickered to Vin, offering a nod before turning to walk away.
“Alright, follow me,” Benny demanded, waving for Vin to follow him as he headed below deck.
The lighting was a harsh transition from the rising sun that lit what was above. Lanterns hung from hooks along the ceiling and the taller man learned quickly to duck. He struggled to keep up with the sure-footed boy, briefly losing him around a few corners. Eventually they came to a long stretch lined with doors. They continued to the very end, where the boy stopped at a door with his name carved into the front of it. “You’ll be roomin’ with me,” he announced, kicking the door open. A puff of dust revealed a cramped space with hardly enough room for the two cots inside.
“You sleep in here?” Vin asked in distaste, lingering in the doorway.
“Did ya think everyone got a room like the captain’s?” Benny scoffed. He paused and eyed Vin for a moment. “Where ya from, anyway?”
“Italy,” Vin responded plainly.
Benny’s brows shot up. “Really?” He mused. “Never been there. Never been many places.”
“Do you not travel with the ship?” Vin asked curiously.
“Nah.” Benny waved a hand. “Prowlin’ ports for full pockets ain’t travelin’.”
Vin’s thought was interrupted by a small meow. Benny immediately lit up as a fluffy orange cat slipped past Vin’s legs into the room.
“There’s my girl!” Benny jeered, lifting the purring creature into his arms.
Vin smirked, recognizing the cat from Benny’s antics at the port. “She seems to have gotten better,” he pointed out.
Benny beamed. “Heiti’s a talented actress,” he praised.
“Heiti?”
“Heights,” Benny confirmed. “Crew said she needed an intimidatin’ name to stay on the ship, but Heights ain’t a proper lady’s name,” he explained.
“I see,” Vin chuckled, though his smile soon began to fade. The boy must have been around the same age as his sister, and for a moment he recognized an innocent joy that the two shared. His mind drifted to thoughts of her, remembering all the letters he had forgotten to send, hoping she was okay without him.
“Hey!” Benny snapping in front of his face pried him from his own mind. “Come on,” he said, putting Heiti down and squeezing past Vin. “Don’t check out yet, we still have a lot to do.”
Heaving a sigh, Vin returned to reality and resumed the start of his own adventure.
As time went on, the night became ever more anticipated. Firelight danced across the deck as the last of the sun was replaced by shuddering lanterns. The fog had cleared before the sun was at its highest, sending the sun to beat down onto the deck. The wind had been welcome relief from the humidity. Vin had spent the entirety of the day scampering after Benny, trying to keep up with the boy as well as retaining as many of his words as possible. Half the time Vin thought his instructor had slipped into a foreign language only to realize he was just prattling off more sailing terms.
Since they had stayed anchored, most of their tasks had consisted of cleaning and restocking various supplies. Vin may not have remembered what each individual bolt in the ship was called, but at least he picked up quickly on where everything belonged. Ferrying crates and barrels from the top deck to below was exhausting and Vin was beyond thankful for the chill evening brought with it.
The energy of the crew only changed with the return of two men. Benny’s rambling faded to the back of Vin’s mind, distracted by the new arrivals. Both dark of skin, one was more heavy set with graying dreadlocks, and the other tall and muscular. The former immediately began instructing others on how to handle the crates they had brought along while the latter, seemingly distressed, marched directly to the captain’s cabin.
“Who are they?” Vin asked curiously, cutting Benny off mid-sentence. The boy heaved a sigh.
“Tall one’s Tajo, second mate,” he responded casually. He then pointed to the second man. “That’s Fish.”
“Boy!” As if on cue, the man in question waved Benny over. He happily obliged, bouncing over with Vin on his tail. Once they reached him, Fish heaved a crate into Benny’s waiting arms. Tiny chirps escaped the holes and Benny grinned, exchanging a knowing nod with the man. His eyes then traveled to Vin.
“New guy,” Benny explained with a gesture.
Fish gave a slow nod and held his hand out. “Leslie Fisher.”
Vin readily shook his hand with a smile. “Vincenzo Nicchi.”
Fish gave a single nod then shooed Benny away with no more than a glance. As he turned tail, Vin scrambled to follow. “Does he speak much?” He inquired.
Benny shrugged. “Depends on the day, really.”
“What did he give you?”
“Chicks,” Benny beamed. “I help him take care of the animals, and he teaches me about healin’.”
“He is a doctor, then?” Vin mused.
“Well…” Benny mumbled. “He’s our doctor. Also the chef.”
Vin nodded slowly, processing the information.
Benny took a turn in a direction they had not yet been. It was a sort of makeshift kitchen with a few small windows. There were a couple small enclosures, one with a couple adult hens already occupying it and another with a single, content looking goat.
Benny pried the lid off the crate he held to reveal about a dozen juvenile chickens. He leaned over the small fence and tilted the box, encouraging them to jump into the hay below. The black and white goat bleated and Benny rushed over. She met him at the fence and tilted her head as he scratched her ear.
“Don’t ya worry, Tilda,” he cooed. “They’ll be bringin’ your dinner down any moment.” He straightened and turned to Vin. “Come on, introduce yourself,” he urged. “You n’ Tilda will have to get used to each other if you’re gonna be helpin’ me.”
Vin lingered near the doorway, eyeing the goat nervously. “You want me to pet the goat?”
Benny nodded and gestured to her. “C’mon, she won’t bite.”
Slowly, Vin approached the enclosure. The goat’s horizontal pupils stared into his soul and he jumped when she bleated once more. Benny rolled his eyes and grabbed Vin by the wrist, yanking him over and placing his hand on top of her head.
Vin cringed and froze, keeping his limp hand atop the beast. Tilda only chewed on nothing.
“Go on,” Benny urged. “Scratch.”
With a deep, tense exhale, Vin scratched behind her ear. Continuing to stare into nothing, she leaned her head into his hand. Benny broke out in the biggest smile Vin had ever witnessed.
“She likes you!” The boy exclaimed happily.
“Great,” Vin muttered, hastily retracting his hand. He had interacted very little with any animal other than his own horse back home. Had he been honest with himself, the cat had even given him an uneasy feeling.
“Alright,” Benny announced. “Time for bed before they make us do anything else.”
Vin’s body slumped in relief, exhausted from non stop labor. He wasn’t even sure his legs would carry him all the way to their shared room until they were collapsing on the cots.
Benny propped himself up in the corner, grabbing an apple he’d left there earlier and taking a bite. Vin, meanwhile, had flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling, aware that his arm hung from the side but lacking the will to move it. His entire body ached, from his feet to his neck. His hands were riddled in cuts from handling splintered wood and ropes. With nothing left to do, his mind focused on every little sting. His jacket laid at his feet, shed far earlier in the day. The linen of his shirt as well as loose hair clung to his skin and he felt miserably filthy.
“Are ya regrettin’ it yet?”
Vin’s head fell limply to the side only to meet Benny’s raised brow as he casually continued munching on his apple.
Vin looked back to the ceiling with a thoughtful sigh. “No,” he answered honestly. “Not yet.”
“Runnin’ from somethin’ then?” Silence stretched between them. Benny shrugged and tossed the apple core into an empty crate at the foot of his cot. “You don’t gotta tell me what it is, but no one gets here without a past, ya know.”
“Even you?” Vin inquired.
Benny laughed, rustling his blanket as he settled into his cot. “Especially me,” he said pointedly. “I’m sixteen, mate. A year ago this was the last place I wanted to be.”
“Do you regret it?” Vin asked.
If Vin could see Benny’s face, he would have seen the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. “Not yet.”

 

[rumblebee.]

Sleep had been deep and dreamless. For all Vin knew, it could have been anywhere between five seconds and a year when he was jolted awake by a thump on his chest. Bleary eyed, he jerked with a start, coming face to face with the nose of an orange beast.
Vin yelped, scrambling upright as Heiti yowled in protest and jumped to the floor. Breathing heavy, he looked up at a cross-armed Benny with wide eyes. “Finally,” the boy huffed. “We’re gonna miss breakfast.”
Vin shifted where he sat, releasing a groan of pain. Muscles he didn’t know existed were sore, the idea of repeating yesterday’s labor filling him with dread. He could feel his pulse in his hands, raw and throbbing.
“Come on, or we’ll be left with scraps!” Benny pressed, giving the leg of the cot a kick.
“You go on,” Vin insisted. “The captain wanted me to uh…” Gingerly, he snatched his jacket and dug the journal from the pocket. “Figure something out,” he finished.
Benny shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He lifted Heiti into his arms and stepped through the door. “Meet me on deck when you’re done!” He called before sliding the door shut.
Vin slumped with a sigh of relief. He was thankful the boy did not force him to stand, seeing as he wasn’t entirely sure he could hold his own weight. Running a hand through his hair, his face scrunched in disgust. It felt sticky with sweat and sea salt. His fingers caught on the ribbon he used to tie it back, hanging on by a thread after enduring his slumber. Vin yanked it from the tangles with a wince, brushing back as many strands as possible. He quickly gave up on attempting to undo the infinite knots, tightening the ribbon and vowing to revisit the issue at a later time.
He flipped open the journal, preparing to skim the pages yet again. He must have read over the messy handwriting at least a dozen times. Most of it made no sense to him, but he had gathered theories on a loose paper he kept within the pages. It didn’t help that most of it was in Spanish, in which Vin could only read and even then, not fluently. A handful of words escaped his range of knowledge, and he hoped they would prove unimportant.
Minutes passed as his eyes scanned each page, his mind numb to the words he had read so many times. Over and over, he sought different meanings in each word but came up with nothing. The rumbling in his belly kept him from focus, and he grunted in frustration.
Snapping the journal shut, Vin lunged from his cot and flung the door open. He grit his teeth against the pain in his legs as he forced them to carry him to deck. The sunlight was harsh as he emerged from the darkness, his free hand flying up to shade his eyes.
Almost immediately, he jumped to the side, avoiding a crewmate carrying a large crate. Looking around, he noticed others both loading and unloading various things.
“Careful with that.” The bark came from Scarlet, standing near the edge of the deck, overseeing her crew. Warren stood beside her with a journal, marking down what was going in and out. “We don’t want another leaking barrel, do we?” She muttered something under her breath that made her companion snicker.
The captain took a double take when she spotted Vin approaching. She smirked when she noticed the way his eyes darted nervously, or the slight stagger in his step after a hard day’s work. She spoke something else into Warren’s ear that made him glance towards the newcomer as well, before scurrying off with a chuckle.
“Found anything of interest yet?” Scarlet called out to him.
Vin stopped beside her with a sigh and half shake of his head. “I do not suppose any of your men speak Spanish?”
Scarlet glanced around and her crossed arms fell to her sides. She jerked her head towards her cabin. “Follow me.”
Vin followed her up the stairs and through the daunting doors, greeted once again by thick smoke. He was beginning to understand the origin of the rasp in her voice.
“Read it aloud.” She had not even turned to face him as she spoke, wandering directly towards the stained window. Vin hesitated until she looked over her shoulder. “Go on.”
He cleared his throat, his accent broken as he attempted to pronounce the written words. “La codicia yace con misericordia entre mi sangre en el norte. Codicia… Misericordia… I do not know these words.”
“Greed lies with mercy among my blood in the north.”
Vin looked up in surprise. “You understand this?”
“I understand many things that may surprise you, rat,” she stated casually. Scarlet folded her hands behind her back and turned to face him. He met her eye from the other side of the room. “Ye will learn not to underestimate me in time.” She walked around the table and past him, towards the door. Hand around the cast iron handle, she pulled the door open and gestured for him to leave. “Help the others with the load. We’ll go over more of the journal later.”
Pressing his lips into a thin line, Vin closed the journal and pocketed it before making his way from the cabin. He paused in the doorway, turning his head to face the captain. He parted his lips to speak, but no words came out when she narrowed her eyes at him. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his tangled hair and descended back down to the deck, his body aching in protest of the labor to come.

✗​

Vin endured only a few hours before Benny made him sit down. His hands had begun to bleed after ferrying the splintered wood of crates. The boy would snap at any crew member that tried to heckle him until eventually, he was left ignored on the sidelines.
Not that he had a complaint about it.
Fish had offered him linens to stave away infection, and a roll of bread after learning he had skipped breakfast. It was a strange sensation, feeling unimportant and cared for at the same time; he wondered if livestock felt the same.
As the sun began to sink from its highest peak, a single sentence had repeated itself no less than a hundred times in Vin’s head.
Greed lies with mercy among my blood in the north.
He grew frustrated trying to untangle the riddle. Just as he had begun to believe he understood the machinations of his late father’s mind, he was proven very wrong.
Greed represented a talisman, he was certain. Was mercy a church? A graveyard? Was his blood an ancestor buried in some far away cemetery? Vin’s stomach turned at the thought of grave robbery, but the more he pondered the phrase the more it seemed the most likely scenario.
Gingerly, he reached into his pocket to further study the worn pages. Most pages seemed to be nothing more than the ramblings of an old man, but given the new context, there was a line that caught his eye which did not before.
There was a brief passage outlining conflict in Acadia, where Luis mentions a stay in Port Toulouse. The location was far from where he conducted his usual dealings, and Vin wondered if this could be the aforementioned north.
“Rat.” He looked up at the call to see the captain taking strides towards him. When she came to a halt beside him, Scarlet peered into the book and placed her hands on her hips. “I hope you’ve been making yourself useful in some way,” she muttered.
Vin shifted, a look of pondering upon his face. “I have a theory.”
“Go on,” she pressed with piquing interest.
“He writes of a conflict in which he was briefly trapped in Port Toulouse.”
“Ye believe that to be the north he speaks of?”
“Perhaps,” Vin answered. “I assume mercy could be a… Cimitero. A cemetery, or a church.”
Scarlet leaned her head back in understanding. “Ye expect he has an ancestor buried with a talisman.”
Vin snapped the book shut with an air of satisfaction. “Precisely.”
“It’s hardly fool-proof fact,” she mumbled in thought. After a moment, she drew a breath and looked at the man. “We’ll head north after the next port. I’ll find something to make it worth our while in case yer decoding skills prove to be wanting. In the meantime…” she stared down his pitiful frame with pursed lips. “Tajo!”
The muscular man turned his head at her call. “Aye, captain?” He responded. When she jerked her head for him to come over, he did precisely so. He eyed Vin’s wounds with a tip of his head. “What happened to yer hands, boy?”
“They are…” Vin struggled for an answer but ultimately gave in. “Soft.”
This pried a snicker from them both. “A problem to be solved in time,” Tajo said. “What is it ye wanted from me, captain?”
“I’m thinking metal would be easier on his soft hands,” she mused. “Could ye teach him to defend himself?” Her gaze flickered to the newcomer. “If ye can’t lift, perhaps ye can fight.”
Tajo eyed Vin as if he were calculating every inch of him. He slapped a hand on his shoulder and shook it with a grin. “Aye, the boy has the frame of a swordsman.”
Vin made a face at the way his head swayed with the movement. “And what about the constitution?”
Tajo released a hearty chuckle. “In time, my friend. In time.”

 

[rumblebee.]

hanging bodies

---

The ship was riding the gentle sway of the sea by the time Vin opened his eyes. Looking around the shared room, he saw no sign of other life. He stumbled standing from his cot as the ship rocked underfoot. On his way through the door, he pulled his hair back with a spare ribbon he had found in his jacket pocket the night before. The ache in his bones had begun to fade, if only slightly. He was graced with mundane tasks with the intention of letting his hands recover, for which he was grateful. Though he knew he would be useless to the captain or anyone else without the use of them. He had promised to earn his keep, after all.
Stomach rumbling, the first place he headed for was the kitchen. He hardly knew that was his destination until his hand brushed the doorway. The second it did, he heard the clatter of a knife and a wet slap as Benny threw the headless fish he held on the table he sat at. “It’s about time.” The outburst caused Fish to turn his head from beside the boy.
“Were you waiting for me?” Vin asked quizzically.
Benny stood while wiping his hands on his shirt. “Tajo told me not to wake ya so Fish said I had to do your chores until then.” He smacked Vin’s arm as he left without hesitation. “Bye.”
Vin looked over at the table just as Heiti jumped onto the surface, sniffing at the filet. Fish clapped at her but the beast ignored him completely.
With long strides, Vin closed the space between them and shooed the cat off the table, enduring her cries of protest. “I do not suppose any of this has been cooked yet?”
“After,” Fish informed him, gesturing to the pile of carcasses that had yet to be descaled.
Vin bit back an argument. He knew he wasn’t exactly in a position to be defiant.
It seemed every time Fish turned his head, he would march over to wordlessly correct Vin’s methods. He wanted to tell the man he had never descaled a fish before, but he figured it went without saying. It took him twice as long as it should have to get through the pile Benny had left behind. Fish wasn’t exactly the most talkative companion, but after a period of boredom Vin had begun to find a satisfying rhythm in the silence.
Just as he reached for the last one, Fish plopped down a plank with a cooked creature upon it, an orange teetering beside it.
Vin’s first reaction was disgust, until the smell hit his nose. He may have been accustomed to finer dining, but at that moment he figured anything would do.
“Grazie,” he murmured. The man gave a nod in response before returning focus to his preparations.
Eventually, Vin found himself on route to the upper deck. While he waited for them to sail north, he sought to keep himself busy.
“You.” He looked up at the call, throwing his hand up to shade his eyes from the harsh sunlight. He noticed Thorton’s figure approaching him and was cut off as he opened his mouth to speak. “Do you have something you should be doing?” Despite their height difference being minimal, Thorton had a way of making it feel as though he towered over every other. Vin resisted the urge to shrink under his gaze.
“I was on my way to ask the captain for a task,” he spoke honestly.
“You may come to me for that.” His tone was sharp, as if he were scolding a child. Thorton turned his head, scanning the area for jobs befitting one such as Vin.
Vin also allowed his eyes to wander, looking out over the ocean. He watched the waves and clouds move in unison, the salty wind whipping his hair across his face. He watched as they passed by islands, barely close enough to count the individual trees. It truly was beautiful; he dared to say more so than the rolling hills he grew up on.
Both men were jarred from their thoughts as a bell rang over the slosh of waves.
“Nearing port!”
The call came out from somewhere above them. Thorton released a sigh as his brows arched above his downturned gaze. “No time now,” he muttered. “We’re nearing port.”
As Thorton turned to walk away, Vin scampered after him. “Can I do something there?”
“It would be against my better judgment, but…” He paused. “That would be for the captain to decide.”
Vin stood at the edge of the deck as they approached land, watching it become ever closer. He fiddled with the linens around his hands absentmindedly, tuning out the commotion behind him. Before they even docked he could see signs of life along the beaches; locals going about their daily lives. A pair of men had beached a fishing boat to make repairs. A woman with hands in a washtub looked up to watch the enormous vessel. Two young children ran from where they played and disappeared into the trees.
It wasn’t until they had pulled fully into port that Vin’s heart sank.
Strung along the dock were three bodies, each dangling freely from a noose. Adrenaline rushed through Vin’s veins. Averting his eyes had come too late as bile rose in his throat. It appeared their fate was not recent. A flash of Sid’s tarot flickered in his mind, but he shoved it away before having the chance to imagine himself in the grasp of a noose. Despite the pain, his grip wrapped tightly around the taffrail to keep him steady as the blood abandoned his face.
“Perhaps my intuition rang true.” Vin did not have to see his face to recognize Thorton’s condescending tone.
Clenching his jaw, Vin steadied his sway and continued to keep his eyes trained on the waves beneath the docks. “I will disembark if the captain wishes it of me,” he reiterated.
There was a moment of silence before he heard the first mate’s steps fade. Vin released a breath and flipped to press his back to the rail in time to see Thorton disappear behind the captain’s door.
Among the murmurs, the next figure Vin noticed was Tajo marching to the edge with a stiff demeanor. He gazed at the dock and cursed under his breath, immediately helping to lower the ramp. Vin jumped when he heard another voice beside him, turning to see Scarlet looking expectant.
“Timothy says ye are insistent on disembarking,” she stated. She crossed her arms, their freckles visible under the thin linen of her sleeves.
“Only if I am needed,” Vin corrected, though he could not deny that he was curious to explore the island.
Scarlet scoffed. “Needed? Hardly.” Her gaze darted to the docks, vaguely distressed by the decaying bodies displayed there. “But if ye wish to observe, I will not stop you.” She brushed past him towards the ramp, and Vin hesitantly followed.
The ramp creaked as the captain followed behind Tajo, the first to descend to the docs. Desperately trying to avoid the sight of the three bodies, Vin was suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of rot as they walked past. He held his breath, resisting the urge to wretch when a call sounded from the treeline.
Three pairs of eyes looked up and Vin recognized the two children he saw running off before burst from the brush and continue their antics along the stretch of white sand. A woman followed them, hesitant at first, then with a rush in her step. She had practically reached a run, dark hands grasping her skirts before they released to wrap around Tajo’s neck. He returned her embrace, the two exchanging hushed words before Tajo stepped away, his gentle grip remaining on her shoulders.
“Marie. What happened here, love?” He asked with concern, head gesturing towards the hanged men.
Marie’s eyes darted from the bodies to the dock beneath her feet before returning to Tajo. “Scoundrels came here seekin’ refuge from their pursuers.” Her Haitian accent was even stronger than Tajo’s; strong enough that Vin struggled to follow her words. “Or so they claimed. Overstayed their welcome; strung up a few good men and wouldn’t let us take them down.” Her eyes turned to Scarlet. “You’ve come just in time. They wrung us dry as a way for us to thank them.” Hatred spit from her tone.
Vin was horrified by her story, and perhaps more so by the casualty in which she explained. Surely it could not be a common occurrence, such violence? He looked from face to face, but no one seemed to share his shock.
Tajo’s hands ran up and down her arms, prying a smile from the woman. “And what of Jean-Claude? He is safe as well?”
She shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “There is no trouble that boy could not survive, much like his father,” she teased, tapping a finger to his nose and hiding her solemn expression behind a smirk. “He’s helpin’ dig graves.”
“We’ve brought tobacco, sugar, and rice from the colonies,” Scarlet stepped in plainly.
Marie offered her a nod. “We have your trade,” she affirmed. A smirk then reached her face, leaning slightly closer to Scarlet. “I have set aside fine oils and fabrics for ye as well, mistress,” she stated. A smug grin reached her face when Scarlet pricked a brow in interest. “I expected ye would be interested.” Her curious gaze traveled to Vin. “And who might this be?”
Scarlet turned her head towards him. “He is here to observe,” she sighed.
Vin’s face fell to an expression somewhere between irritation and a pout. He could already hear crates being stacked on the dock behind him, and for a moment he considered suffering through the physical labor to be preferable over verbal berating. The whiff of bodies on the breeze cut the thought from his mind completely.

✗​

Interest had rapidly devolved into boredom. Over the ramblings of numbers and haggling that filled the small house, Vin found that his mind had begun to wander.
The discussion of trade was nearly identical to the lessons his father–or, step-father, rather–had tried to force on him in his youth. Though she was never the one intended to inherit the vineyard and the business that came with it, his sister had picked up on various strategies and retained partnership information with enthusiasm. Vin, however, only ever saw numbers on paper. Apparently he had neglected to realize that trade was trade, whether on land or at sea.
Thoughts wandered to his sister. He wondered how she was, and what her life in Virginia had brought her. He wondered what she would have to say about the recklessness of the path he had chosen. Vin wrung his hands in his lap, gaze distant.
He wondered what his late wife would think of how far he had gone to run from her memory; what she would think if it led him to his demise at the end of a rope, much like…
Vin squeezed his eyes shut to force the image from his mind.
He was jarred from his thoughts with the sound of a slamming door that made everyone at the table turn their heads.
“Papa!” The preteen boy that stood in the doorway dropped the shovel in his hand and bolted towards Tajo, who stood from his seat.
“Jean-Claude, my boy!” Tajo laughed, wrapping his son in a tight embrace. “Have you been taking care of your mama?”
The kid leaned back and nodded proudly. Tajo grinned and ruffled his short curls.
Eyes shifted once again when chair legs dragged across the floor in the wake of Scarlet standing. “I believe our business here is through.”
Marie stood as well and gave Scarlet a nod of her head, closing the ledger that had sat before her. “Always a pleasure, captain.”
“One more thing before we leave, Marie.” Scarlet folded her hands neatly behind her back, head tipping with inquiry. “Which direction did ye say those pirates had fled?”
“Towards the north, I believe,” the woman answered hesitantly. “Ship was called Belligerent.”
A scoff escaped the captain. “Perfect,” Scarlet answered sharply before turning her gaze to Tajo. “It seems we have a stop to make.” He responded with a curt nod.
“Can I come with this time, pa?” Pleading eyes looked up at Tajo, the boy’s head craned back at a severe angle.
Tajo placed his hands on either of his son’s shoulders. “Not this time,” he told him firmly. “When yer older, perhaps.”
A pout settled on the boy’s face, but he offered a solemn nod.
“Come, boy,” Marie called her son over with a gentle smile. Jean-Claude sauntered over and leaned against her hip, where she threw an arm around his shoulders while the others headed for the door. Vin followed Tajo, leaving the captain to tail.
“Scarlet.” Marie called after the woman, who looked over her shoulder at the sound of her name. “Send them to hell.”
A smirk reached Scarlet’s red lips, closing the door between them.

 

[rumblebee.]

The Obsidian creaked with each wave and each breeze. No matter how many times the sound was heard, it was able to fuel shreds of doubt like tinder upon a flame. Vin’s heart rate was never intended to remain at such high speeds.
Sitting upon a crate, he stared wide-eyed at the deck with his face in his hands, waiting for the boards underfoot to crack at any moment. The metallic clatter of a saber falling to his feet was enough to make him jump. As he clutched his chest, he briefly feared his own skin had abandoned him. He heaved a sigh when he looked up to meet Tajo’s smirk.
“Go on, pick it up,” the towering man insisted. “You’ve done enough sittin’ around, my friend.”
“My hands—” Vin attempted to argue, but was swiftly cut off.
“Are better than they were yesterday, and the day before.” Tajo drew his own sword and took a step back. “Take up your blade.”
Hesitantly, Vin reached down and wrapped his fingers around the silver hilt, the metal cool to the touch. As he stood, the blade scraped along the deck, causing Tajo to cringe. He jolted forward to lift Vin’s wrist, taking the blade into the air. “Don’t ya be dullin’ the blade now,” he scolded.
“Spiacente…” Vin muttered, hoisting it up with a grunt. “It is a bit heavier than I expected.”
Tajo’s gaze grew distant and he rolled his head towards the helm where Scarlet stood. She caught his gaze and looked between him and Vin before waving a hand at him. Having a sigh through his nose, he turned his attention back to the clueless blonde.
“Alright.” Tajo took a step back and drew a second sword from a hilt around his waist. “Take a stance.”
Puzzled, Vin pulled a lip between his teeth and flickered his eyes between his feet. After a moment, he straightened his posture and looked at Tajo for confirmation, but the larger man only cocked an unamused brow.
“I can see I overestimated,” Tajo stated.
“Overestimated what?” Vin stood motionless while the man plucked the weapon from his grasp.
Tajo met his gaze. “You,” he smirked and placed the blades on a crate. He stood before Vin and studied him for a moment, ignoring his confused expression. Tajo then rammed his forearm into Vin’s chest.
He staggered in response, unable to catch himself as he fell to the deck with a jarring thunk. Groaning, Vin pressed an elbow into the splintering wood to prop himself up. He looked at Tajo’s cocky face through loose strands of hair. “Why did you do that?” He asked in more of a whine than the demand he intended.
Without an answer, Tajo extended a hand to him. After brief hesitation, Vin grasped his forearm and allowed his opponent to pull him to his feet. “Widen your stance,” Tajo instructed. “Bend your knees.”
Vin complied to his demands, then looked at him nervously and offered a small nod. With an amused smile, Tajo rammed a forearm into his chest once again. He staggered, releasing a yelp as his back slammed against the banister of the ship. There was a blip in his vision as the wind left his lungs altogether. A few seconds to catch his breath and Vin shook his head clear, stepping away from the edge and adjusting his stance.
“Are ya alright, mate?” Tajo inquired.
Vin nodded, and this time it was him wearing a sneer. “Go on.”
After each hit was a stumble, but Vin fell only once. Each round he stood sturdier than the last. The soreness forming in his chest threatened to consume him, but it had a formidable opponent in adrenaline. It was exhilarating, to feel himself progress his defense against a physical attack. Vin had never been hit a day in his life, save for a handful of half-hearted slaps in response to his misbehavior as a child. He feared he would crumble under violence, but knowing he could hold his ground opened the door to infinite possibilities in his mind. He couldn’t keep a smile off his face.
Tajo noticed this and raised an amused brow. “Are ya enjoying this, then?”
Vin held his arms out to his sides. “I am doing good, no?”
His instructor gave him a few passive nods. “Alright,” he mused, walking past him to grab the swords. Vin’s face immediately faltered when he fumbled to snag the hilt tossed his way. Tajo’s wasn’t the only chuckle that surrounded him, and Vin noticed for the first time that they had accumulated a small audience. He needn’t lay eyes on the two men to recognize the sound of Sam and Warren counting out bets.
As Vin nervously gripped his weapon in both hands, Tajo shook his head. “No no,” he scolded. “The saber is a one handed weapon.”
The confidence that had previously swelled in Vin’s chest began to deflate as he let his left hand fall to his side. He nearly forgot to correct his stance as he raised his right, but forced his nerves down with a deep breath.
“Block left,” Tajo instructed. “Ready?”
It was a split second between Vin’s affirming nod and the knee-jerk flail that blocked Tajo from striking his left arm. The sound of clashing metal accompanied a reverberation that traveled up Vin’s arm, causing him to release his grip. In surprise, he clutched his hand to his chest, watching the weapon’s clattering settle upon the deck.
A laugh bellowed from Tajo and he gestured to the fallen saber with his own. “Tighten your grip,” he said. “Again.”
Training continued until the pain in Vin’s hands felt like a distant memory; it had been overcome by aching in his chest and arms. Tajo did not hold back, and the man far exceeded Vin’s own size. The audience they had made of the crew came and went, mostly reminded to return to work by Scarlet’s sharp barks. The only two that remained unmoving were Sam and Warren, bickering in the background, trying to convince their fellow crewmates to make fool’s bets.
Sweat began to shimmer under the glare of a high sun. Vin struggled to keep his chest from heaving. He could feel the muscles in his arms twitch with overexertion, screaming in protest. His determination began to wear thin.
“Tajo!”
Vin had never been so relieved to hear the captain’s voice.
Meanwhile, as the man opposite of him responded to his name, what was a smug grin became a stone-cold glare that flickered with rage. Vin followed his eyes to the helm towards which Tajo had already begun his ascent. He watched Scarlet plop a spyglass into her second mate’s hand, waving a finger towards the north. Her lips moved, but any words were lost to the wind.
A jolt surged through him when a firm grip around his arm yanked him back. Vin pursed his lips in a scowl at the back of Benny’s head as he dragged him below deck. “Ehi!” he barked, breathless with exasperation. “Can I not even choose where to stand?”
“Trust me,” Benny responded dryly. “This is about to be the last place ye wanna be.”
Their shared bunk passed them by in a growing air of confusion. They descended deeper into the ship; even the lanterns flickered as if the thickening darkness threatened to consume them.
At the mouth of a narrow hallway, Vin rooted himself to the floorboards and pried his arm from the younger boy’s grip. “Why not?”

Benny stopped and whipped around in confusion when his fingers no longer gripped linen. He mustered a heavy sigh and ruffled his hair nervously before his arm dropped back to his side. “Look,” he began in a low voice, gesturing with flat palms. “Cap’n’s been bloody hellbent on tailin’ the ship that went around Tajo’s home putin’ down good men, and that ship’s on the horizon. Seein’ as you have less self preservation than a horsefly, if ye go up there I’ll be swabbin’ yer blood off the deck before nightfall, ca-pees-ay?”
Eyes wide, Vin watched Benny turn and storm away while the boy’s words struggled to find ground in his mind. “It is… Capisci,” he mumbled flatly, forcing his feet forward. As if by a swift kick, any confidence he had built up previously came tumbling to the ground far beneath his feet.

 

[rumblebee.]

hanging and stabbing

---

A single lantern lit the belly of the ship. It swayed with the waves, the shadows it cast dancing around storage crates and barrels. The air felt somehow thicker than above. Any sound was stunted by the depths that engulfed the bow. Creaks and rustles sounded hollow; beyond them was silence.
Benny sat slumped against a crate with a lump of ginger fur in his his lap, as Heiti had readily followed them. With gentle fingers, he meticulously plucked mats from her belly with a small knife. The became engulfed in his work, the cat having reluctantly given in with only the occasional twitch of her tail to voice her distaste.
Vin paced, weaving slowly between the obstacles in his way. “How long does this usually take?” He eventually burst, unable to remain in the quiet.
Benny only shrugged, Heiti taking the opportunity to escape up a stack of barrels. A puff of breath escaped from his nose as he let the back of his head thunk against the surface behind it. Vin’s steps slowed to a stop, a concerned gaze eyeing the normally energetic boy.
“Most of the time, it’s all over after a quick kip,” he chided. “Gonna need the energy to get the bloodstains out.” He donned a tired smirk when the color drained from Vin’s face. “Ah, don’t worry about swabbin’ too hard, mate,” he continued with a wave of his hand. “Cap’n says it adds personality.” He simply couldn’t contain a breathy chuckle when Vin pressed a palm to a crate to steady himself.
“All of this seems… aggressive for a trading ship,” he stated flatly.
“The sea is dangerous,” Benny answered. “Lawless, if yer clever enough.”
As if releasing the strength to stand in a single release of breath, Vin sank to the floor and draped his wrists over his knees. “This is not what I expected.” His voice cracked. He shook his head, gaze sweeping the hay-littered floor. “I should never have left.”
A loud groan from Benny caused his head to jerk up. The boy looked as though his eyes would roll far enough back to be swallowed. “I won’t be listenin’ to yer self-pity.” He sat forward to look at his elder counterpart. “Most of us are here ‘cause we got no choice.” He flung an accusing finger at the shamed man. “What is it ye hoped to find that ye didn’t already have?”
Vin stewed in his companion’s words. They stung, but when he asked himself why, he could not—or would not—find an answer. “I do not know,” Vin muttered under his breath.
“Vin,” Benny said firmly, lifting his head from the wall to sit forward. His glare was impossible to meet. “Why are you here?”
Vin knit his brows, nervously smoothing flyaway strands of hair to his skull. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyes, but refused to allow them freedom. “I just wanted to leave,” he rasped. “To go… Anywhere else.”
“Ye got what ye wanted, then,” Benny concluded with a flailing of an arm. “So quit wailin’ and figure it out.”
“Figure out… whether I should leave?” Vin nearly whispered.
Benny looked at him in surprise. “No, ye daft knob!” He barked. “How to stay!” The boy crossed his arms and turned his head, thumping his back to the wall and muttering expletives.
Vin dropped his hands and wrung them tightly in his lap. Benny was right, after all. He chose this path, and he couldn’t run from it just because it was more difficult than he expected. It was nothing like home, but is that not what he wanted?
Both heads jerked towards a sudden sneeze that belonged to neither. Benny was on his feet in an instant, gripping the fur-dusted knife in his hand. “Who’s there?” He stood silent, waiting for a response. When there was none, he stalked towards a stack of crates and peeked behind it. “Jean,” he growled, pocketing the knife and yanking the perpetrator up by the arm. “What in the bloody hell are ye doin’ here?”
Vin twisted his torso just in time to see Jean-Claude rip his arm from Benny’s grasp. He shoved the older boy away, who immediately squared up before the one adult in the room jumped between them. Vin held a firm hand on each of their shoulders, shooting a glare at Benny before turning his attention to the younger boy. “Does your father know you are here?”
“Of course not,” Jean hissed, shrugging away from his hand. “He never takes me with him, he just leaves me with mother!”
“Ye ever think it’s because yer the size of a sparrow,” Benny heckled, pinching his fingers together.
Vin released his grip on the adolescent, but not without a small shove. “You are not helping.”
Benny scoffed and turned away. “Fine, I’m not gettin’ blamed for anythin’ he does to get himself killed.”
“Is there really a fight?”
Vin turned his head to Jean as he voiced the question. “Yes,” Vin confirmed. “It is important that you stay down here until it is over.”
“Why?” Jean asked bitterly. “I can help!”
Vin knelt to be eye level with him and shook his head seriously. “I am twice your size and not even I can help.”
“So ya are a coward, then?” Jean asked with a cocked brow.
Vin was slightly taken aback by the question and tipped his head. “No, I understand my limits, as you should,” he stated.
“Sounds like cowardice to me.”
Vin straightened to his feet. “Sometimes cowardice is what keeps you alive.”
“I am not afraid of death.”
“Then you are braver than most.”
Jean-Claude crossed his arms haughtily, lip pursed with a pout. His eyes scanned the room and proceeded to widen. “The cat’s on fire!”
The second Vin turned his head, the boy bolted past him towards the door. Benny, who lingered near the doorway, jumped forward and snagged Jean’s sleeve. “Jean–” He was interrupted by a swift kick to the knee, loosening his grip enough for the child to escape.
Vin rushed past a cursing Benny, bolting up the stairs after the far quicker boy. The muscles in his legs burned after only a few steps, but he forced them onward. By the time he caught up with Jean-Claude, they had already reached the peak of the stairs.

Vin grabbed the boy around the arm, causing him to come to a jarring halt. He did not fight it, however, as both of them froze the moment their eyes adjusted to the afternoon light.
The Obsidian was tethered to the Belligerent with grappling hooks, having reeled their prey in close enough that the silhouettes of men hanging from their own mast was clear. One was still, one twitched in desperation, and a third had begun to turn violet in the face as he struggled like a fish at the end of a line.
The sound of Benny’s footsteps slowing behind him brought Vin’s haze to surface. His grip on Jean became a palm on his chest, pushing him towards the stairs. He heard Benny murmur something to coax the boy back down, but Vin remained.
“Yer captain has fallen!” Scarlet’s voice rang over the deck, rasping with the volume she pried from her chest. It was easy to spot her standing on the rail, walking along it with practiced steps. She jumped down, her icy glower enough to make Vin nauseous with fear even when it wasn’t directed at him. She approached a row of men that had been brought to their knees. “Yer brethren who remain will shortly follow,” she murmured in a far lower voice. “If ye have a God to make peace with, I’d do it now.”
“You’ll pay for this, witch,” one of the felled men growled, spitting blood at her feet.
Scarlet paused as the offense landed under her next step. She turned her head to the scoundrel, slowly bending to a single knee and prying an ivory dagger from her belt. She twisted the pommel in a leather-clad hand, the point of it threatening to pierce the soft skin under the man’s chin. He craned his head back, vicious glare unable to mask his heaving breaths.
“As you have?” She whispered past crimson lips. They curled to reveal her discolored teeth as she drove the dagger upward. The blade glinted from between his parted teeth as he struggled to draw a breath unobscured by the blood that now pooled freely in his throat. Her firm grip held his head in place, ensuring the last thing his glossy eyes saw was her own.
Vin could not look away fast enough. Squeezing his eyes shut only made it easier to hear the sickening gurgle and eventual thud of a lifeless body. He believed his heart would surely burst from his chest, hands becoming numb with the speed of his own pulse. Similar sounds followed in a chorus, as if the other members had taken their captain’s action as their cue.
“Sid.” Vin dared to peek as she spoke the familiar name. Isidor held his victim by the hair, dagger poised to sever the throat beneath it. Scarlet clicked her tongue and gave her head a quick shake, causing Sid to drop his grip with a look of disdain, taking a step back with his arms outstretched in surrender.
Barely a man, the coward trembled as Scarlet approached him.
“Congratulations,” she purred to him. “You get to live.”
Tajo stepped to his side and pulled him up by the back of his collar, prying a squeak from the wide-eyed sailor. “For the sole purpose of telling others what ya saw here,” he spat. “And what ya did to deserve it.”
Scarlet’s eyes flickered to her second mate. “Drop this snake off on the way back to the island,” she hissed in disgust, then jerked her head towards the ship littered with corpses. “Take the ship.”
“Aye,” Tajo said with a curt nod, dropping the lad and giving him a harsh shove forward.
“Wait.” Vin hardly managed to squeak out the word, and suddenly every pair of eyes was trained on him. He paused, then hung his head as he rushed towards Tajo. “I must tell you something,” he whispered urgently.
“What must be so important?” Tajo growled impatiently.
A long breath escaped Vin’s nose as he looked at the taller man with a stony expression. “Your son is below deck.” Tajo’s rage melted from his face and was replaced with confusion, then fear. “It seems the boy stowed away at the port.”
Tajo remained wordless, processing the information before sliding past Vin in a hurry. The blonde turned to follow, hesitating only to glance over his shoulder to lock eyes with a murderer.

 

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