Dead In The Water

Chapter 1

“Well. His Highness has bloody good timing, I’ll give him that,” thought Jarvis, somewhat hysterically, as he waded a distance away from the skeleton of his burning ship.

       The Catalyst had been due to set sail again in just under a week and up until, oh, perhaps an hour ago (one loses track amidst the attempted genocide), everything had been going swimmingly. They had only returned from open waters two days ago and had been busying themselves restocking food, fresh water, and ammunition for their next long journey on the high seas. In days gone past, they would’ve made time for a bit of shore leave, some well-earned rest and revelry before confining themselves to 60 feet of wood with the same sweaty 20 men and women for months on end. But that was a luxury the pirates of Arturon could no longer afford.

        Instead, they had anchored the ship far from the main port, from the pubs and the brothels, and… artfully concealed (for they were not hiding, pirates do not hide) The Catalyst amidst a rocky alcove along the coast. Then it was only a matter of replenishing stock before they would set sail and be on their merry way again, relieving rich merchant ships of their cumbersome (and valuable) stock. Jarvis had been optimistic, all and all. Things were going swimmingly as things could go— when you live under a tyrannical rule that seems to prioritise having you and all your mates executed, that is.

       They had been at this for a while now, he and old King Abraxas. ‘This’ being an incredibly high stakes game of cat and mouse; Or, “Dictatorial ruler and the ragtag criminals consistently undermining his regime”, if Jarvis were to be literal about the situation. Sure, things had been tricky as of late, but Jarvis truly believed in the balance-restoring nature of his trade. At the end of the day, both the King and pirates alike got what they deserved. And, though it had its pros and cons, having enemies in high places was the mark of a good pirate, after all. More than anything though, it was just plain fun. 

        ...Until it wasn’t.

        For now, their carefully stocked food and water were making their way to the seabed, along with about 90% of the ammunition; The remaining 10% lodged in the skulls and guts of their attackers. The cowards had come in the dead of night when most of the crew were asleep below decks. They didn’t bother with rifles or canons; Those things took time to load between shots and might’ve given The Catalyst time to defend herself. No, the pirate ship had only been alerted to the enemy’s presence when their sailing master, Ezekiel, had managed to screech out a panicked “CAPT-!” before all hell broke loose. Ezekiel had been stargazing from the crow’s nest and had barely put down his spyglass when the blinding sphere of magefire had arced down and ripped through the mainsail. By the time Jarvis and the rest of the crew had made their way topside, swords in hand and guns at the ready, half the deck was engulfed in blue flame. They had been found.

        “But how?”. The ironically named Stalwart’s Cove was a well-kept secret amongst the pirates and smugglers of Arturon. Located at the nexus of deadly currents, jagged rocks and narrow cliffs, it was well past the point where sane men dared not cross. As far as Jarvis knew, it wasn’t printed on any official map to date either. Something was very wrong. But at that moment there had been no time to figure it out. Amongst the chaos and dark of night, they could scarcely make sense of where the attack was coming from. Senses bombarded by the disorienting roar of sea and flame alike, Jarvis realised he had no way of knowing the extent of their abilities. He knew common conjurers were only permitted one discipline of magic, whatever was most relevant to their trade. But these were no common conjurers. These were Conjurer Knights, kept on a tight leash, and used only to enforce order where mere men had failed. Jarvis might’ve been a bit flattered if his life and livelihood weren’t on the line.

        From the spray and smoke emerged a few of the witch bastards themselves, palms alight in luminescent azure. With a few powerful shots of their blunderbusses, the scattered crew sent them plummeting to the harsh sea below. Jarvis was proud in the moment but a quick survey of the deck affirmed that they were still greatly overpowered. This ship was going down whether they were on it or not.

        Jarvis was the captain. It was up to him to make the call, but his very soul yearned to fight till the bitter end. The life of a pirate was all he knew, it was the only way of life that accepted him. The life that was literally going down in flames. And for what? To preserve ideals like “law and order”? Jarvis didn’t see what was so just about eradicating entire groups of people. The Catalyst never killed or robbed no one who didn’t deserve it. But this attack was indiscriminate, it was an extermination to rid the land of a few pests.

        “Captain!” cried someone to his left, and Jarvis realised the decision had been made for him as he dove across the sweltering deck, narrowly avoiding the falling mast.

        Heart pounding, jaw clenched, he took one last look at the shell of his pride and joy, whispering a heated “Fuck.” to himself before it was time to roar the words he never hoped to hear, let alone say.

        “Abandon ship!”

        The next several moments were a blur, marked only by the sensations of wet, and cold. In the distance, The Catalyst crackled and popped until she succumbed to the unforgiving sea. Between the black cloak of night and tall, choppy waters of the cove, the conjurers must have struggled to track the pirates after they jumped ship. Either that or they were confident that if their attack hadn’t disposed of the pirates, Mother Nature would finish the job. Not that Jarvis was complaining, as he clawed his way to the black shore, waterlogged and weary to the bone.

        “Forget cat and mouse,” he thought. Old Abraxas had no idea what he had unleashed with this latest rebuttal. Jarvis fancied they were something more akin to plague rats now (drowned ones at that). For Jarvis had long ago decided that if the King was going to treat them like pests, that’s what they would be— showing up where they were least wanted, pilfering whatever goods they could get their hands on and, above all else, refusing to die. And as he lay prostrate on the cold night’s sand, Jarvis contemplated the shimmering stars above him, and his tired brain began to form the inklings of a plan. What would become a most ingenious, revolutionary plan, encompassing all those promises at once. “And then some.”

        All they needed was a new ship.

***

It had taken three days, several excursions to seedy places, and a whole lot more coin than Jarvis was comfortable with, but he had done it. The first step in the plan to end all plans. Now it was time to unveil the fruit of his efforts.

        “There she is!” cried Jarvis, with a proud flourish of his arms, “What do we think lads?”

        “…”

        “…”

        “…With all due respect, Cap’n. I think we’re right fucked.”

        Jarvis spun around to face the crew, tattered coattails swishing, his brow arched in righteous indignation. He practically evokes a damn miracle, and they’re still fucked?

       “All my Saints…” uttered Harshaw in a quiet tone that seemed… much more hesitant than reverent.

        “Look at the state of the bloody thing. Roach, mate, …this is the new ship?”

        “I’d hardly call ‘er new,” interjected Ivanka, the quartermaster, as she took in the grey of the wood and yellowing sails. “Look’s like somethin’ me granda woulda served on.”

        The rest of the crew all murmured in agreement from where they stood, gathered together on the rocky shore of the secluded beach. “The blasted ship was supposed to be the easy part,” Jarvis hissed internally. With a click of his jaw, he closed his gaping mouth, lest he begin to catch flies. Right. Running his tongue over a gold tooth or two in consternation, Jarvis realised he would need to employ all his charms if he had any hopes of convincing them of the more… challenging aspects of his plan.

        “My friends, ye of little faith! The ol’ girl is perhaps… not in the prime of her life—” Jarvis could practically hear some of the eye rolls “—But I assure you she is perfect for us and our next job.”

         “Sir,” started Ezekiel, his thumb flicking at the cap of his compass in a nervous gesture, “I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say we appreciate your efforts, really. I- I’m not sure I want to know how you acquired another ship so fast—” hums of agreement echoed throughout the group—“But the fact remains, the ambush ruined our chances for intercepting the Zurcadia shipment. Even with this old- pardon, new ship…, there’s no way we’d catch up in time.”

        The corner of Jarvis’s mouth quirked up and all at once the crew knew to brace themselves for something interesting at best, and mortally dangerous at worst.                 “Well,” Jarvis began in a low tone “It’s a good thing we’re not aiming for the Zurcadia shipment anymore, isn’t it?”

        A confused silence encompassed the crew. They had likely assumed as much, what with… their ship and possessions burning to a crisp, an’ all. But it was the manner with which Jarvis admitted it that perplexed them. As if on cue, the silence was interrupted by the steady crunch of boots on sand, followed by another expression they were all too familiar with:

        “What the fuck are you talking about Jarvis?” With a final look to check no one had followed, Jarvis’ first (and best) mate pushed his way to the front of the group, his stern expression a permanent fixture on his long and angular face.

        “Amos! Excellent timing,” Jarvis cried, “I was just about to enlighten our friends about my most daring and, if I may be so bold—”.

        “You may not,” Amos interrupted, knowing full well the kind of trouble that followed regular Jarvis, let alone a bold one.

         “—brilliant plan yet,” Jarvis continued, clearing his throat as if he was about to start soliloquising. “On that fateful night, when I laid on that beach, half-drowned and gazing out into the stars, do you know what I saw?— Hush, I’m being rhetorical, Amos— I saw the roadmap to our most important heist yet! The heist that will avenge The Catalyst and prove to all of Arturon that we are here to stay. We’ll be rich, and dare I say, nigh untouchable.”

        “Out with it then!” grunted their Bosun, Church, from the back, shivering in the salty breeze. Jarvis cringed inwardly, this was it, the big ask. “Well, if I know my celestial cycles, it’s only a matter of weeks till Prince Henrick will be returning from his pilgrimage—”

        Amos rounded on Jarvis, “No, absolutely not.”

        “You didn’t let me finish!”

        “I don’t have to! You cannot seriously be thinking of raiding a royal vessel mere days after we were damn near assassinated by conjurer knights!”

        “Amos, this is foolproof!” Jarvis cried, looking to the ship then back at the crew, “Dearest King Abby is on the hunt for pirates. They would never suspect us to be on one of their own ships! We’ll be able to sail undetected. The Prince’s vessel won’t recognise us as a threat till we’re halfway through boarding them!” 

        “Foolproof? We’d be fools to set out again so soon! What’s the problem with laying low for a bit?” Amos barked, gaining a few sympathising looks from the crowd. The crew of the Catalyst (formally of the Catalyst, Jarvis had to remind himself) was a small one, making it all too easy to see exactly what they thought about Jarvis’ grand scheme. But of course they were hesitant. Truthfully, even Jarvis wasn’t feeling as confident about the plan as he made himself out to be, but they didn’t exactly have much of a choice! It was quite literally a do or die situation, and though Jarvis had long ago earned the moniker “Roach” for his unlikely evasion of death, he wasn’t keen to put it to the test, hanging around the mainlands in this climate. Not until they’d accomplished their quest, at any rate.

        Though they did their best to carry on as usual, pillaging naval and merchant vessels alike (Unlike the upper class, pirates don’t discriminate), it was becoming increasingly clear that their glory days on the high seas were just about dead in the water. In the five years they had served together their numbers had dwindled drastically, involuntarily, as the King had doubled down on his militant extermination of all who posed a threat to “law and order”.

        “Lads, I’m afraid laying low isn’t an option anymore. That’s exactly what we were doing when we were ambushed. We can’t afford to remain stagnant any longer. And we most definitely cannot afford to lose another payload. This is our chance to not just get back in the game, but to win it.”

        Things were grim, no doubt. But if there was one thing Jarvis was banking on it was that they hadn’t lost their spirit, their passion. That meant being as much of a petty, absolute inconvenience—nay, menace— to the monarchy as possible. And getting what they were owed. When Jarvis looked at his crew, his friends, grouped together on this secluded beach far from the main harbour, he could see their doubts. Their fears. But he also saw glimmers of righteous anger that had not died down since the fateful ambush that had so thoroughly put a wrench in their business.

        He could work with that.

        Jarvis ran a hand over his beard for a moment in thought, before his eyes developed that telltale sparkle the crew knew all too well (“Oh here he goes-” said Harshaw out the corner of her mouth). With an air of confidence he did not entirely possess, Jarvis leapt onto one of the beach’s iridescent rocks and silently prayed his silver tongue wouldn’t fail him now.

        “Friends! I understand your concern. We’ve been… well, we’ve been through hell as of late. Losing The Catalyst was like losing one of our own,” a few men nodded in agreement, “But we cannot let it be for naught. The King wants us dead. And it’s clear now he is willing to use everything up his arsenal to get it done. He wants us dead because he is scared. He sees us as a threat! We are the scourge of the sea who refuse to bow down to his reign! And we will continue to refuse as long as there is breath in our lungs and swords in our hands.”

        As he spoke, Jarvis noticed the rows of tired eyes gain a slight spark to them, slowly but surely.

        “It’ll be tough, it’s gonna take time we don’t have, but we are gonna fix up this ship, and get underway in a few days alright? We’re not backing down now. When the Prince passes through open waters we’ll be waiting. We are gonna ransack that vessel within an inch of its life and send a message back to daddy dearest. The pirates of Arturon are not to be messed with, and we’re not going down without a fight!”

        Truthfully, Jarvis wasn’t sure how this next raid would go. They were neck-deep in disaster before they had even left port. And while this decommissioned Naval ship may provide some cover, he couldn’t be certain King Abraxas wouldn’t continue to hunt them with the aid of his Conjurers. But it seemed his words had done the trick. The crew no longer looked at the ship with outright apprehension, but instead, with an acceptance that told Jarvis they’d do their damndest to make it work. They always had.

        As the crew began their ascent into the ship that would be their home for the next few weeks, Jarvis leaned close to his first mate, bumping their shoulders together. “You gave me quite the tongue-lashing back there, you insubordinate sod. I should have you thrown overboard”

        “You won’t,” said Amos softly, a short puff of air escaping his nose. A sound Jarvis knew was as good as a chuckle for the old sourpuss. “I know,” Jarvis replied, just as soft.

        “I suppose there’s no convincing you, is there—” Jarvis opened his mouth “—I was being rhetorical,” Amos threw his words back with a straight face and continued more seriously, “You know my feelings on the matter, I trust you know what you’re doing.”

        “Don’t I always?” Jarvis answered with a grin, though he had questioned the same thing as of late. Amos held his gaze for a moment, but if he was privy to Jarvis’s inner monologue he didn’t show it, eventually breaking contact to absorb the new ship in all her… well, glory was a strong word.

        “Jarvis... Are we sure she’s even seaworthy?” he asked, finally.

        “What kind of pirate do you take me for, Amos? Of course, she’s seaworthy,” The Captain assured him, giving the ship’s bow two hardy slaps. At that moment they heard a long and ominous groan, before something huge and dark plummeted downwards, creating a massive splash as it hit the water. Well. They probably only needed the one longboat anyway. “…I’m pretty sure she’s seaworthy.”

Next