Chapter 1: Rude Awakenning #1
Author's note: oh shit, here we go again...
...
In the frigid waters of North Blue, a weathered caravel swayed, its tattered black flag dancing in the cold breeze. Atop the main deck, a scrawny youth with unkempt black hair and lifeless eyes toiled away, the chill of the ocean biting at his skin. Despite the worn fabric clinging to his frame, remnants of intricate designs hinted at a past of privilege and wealth.
None aboard the pirate vessel knew the youth's origins or background, only that his timid demeanor and musical talents had earned him a place among them. He served as the ship's cabin boy, tasked with menial chores and occasional entertainment for the crew.
One of the pirates, a man named Jon, lounged against the ship's railing with a bored expression. Suddenly, a cruel smile twisted his lips as he pushed himself off the rail and sauntered toward the youth, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Approaching from behind, Jon deliberately jostled the youth, causing him to startle and drop the mop. As the youth timidly turned around, he was met with Jon's harsh glare.
"Watch your step, kid! Are you blind or what?!" Jon snapped, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're lucky we even let you on this ship, but it seems you've turned complacent because of the captain's kundness... maybe I should teach you a lesson in his stead?" he scolded, his tone laced with menace.
The youth flinched at Jon's aggressive tone, but his expression remained blank, betraying no hint of fear or defiance. He simply nodded in silent acknowledgment, knowing better than to provoke the ire of the crew, resigned to endure whatever punishment lay ahead.
Jon, oblivious to the nuances of emotional expression, interpreted the youth's stoic response as a sign of defiance and a lack of fear, further fueling his already volatile temper.
Casting a quick glance around, he caught sight of the other pirates atop the ship, their amused expressions fueling his growing frustration. In their eyes, they anticipated a spectacle, but to Jon, it felt like they were mocking him for not being able to intimidate a mere cabin boy.
With a surge of anger, he directed his pent-up frustration at the one person he could dominate without consequence.
"You little punk!" Jon's voice rang out, his fist cocked back and aimed squarely at the boy's face. The blow landed with a sickening thud, sending the boy reeling to his knees.
Yet, to Jon's astonishment, the youth rose again, his empty gaze fixed on Jon with an eerie calmness.
"You dare to stand up to me?" Jon growled, his rage boiling over as he prepared to strike again. But before he could react, something shifted within the boy, a sudden transformation that caught them both off guard.
In an instant, the youth's demeanor changed, his posture straightening and his eyes sharpening with determination. With fluid grace, he raised his left hand in a defensive stance, deflecting Jon's incoming blow with effortless ease. Then, with a swift motion, he pivoted on his left foot, delivering a seemingly powerful strike to Jon's face with his right fist.
However, The impact was underwhelming, barely registering against Jon's hardened features. Both Jon and the boy froze, locked in a stunned standoff and staring at each other in awkward silence, until the boy coughed up blood and collapsed to his knees, met with a chorus of laughter and jeers from the watching pirates.
"Hah! Well, I'll be damned! The lad's got some fight in him after all! Landed a good one right on Jon's kisser!" exclaimed the old quartermaster, his laughter echoing across the deck. "But look at him now, poor sod looks like he's taken more punishment than Jon himself. Kids these days... so fragile..." he chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.
Another pirate clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "It's not the kid that's impressive, it's Jon who's lacking..." he remarked with a sneer of contempt. "The fool let his guard down and got smacked by a little runt. He's nothing but a waste," he jeered, his disdain for Jon evident in his tone.
The sudden jibe snapped Jon out of his daze, his shock giving way to seething rage in an instant. With a primal roar, he lashed out at the boy, his fist connecting with a sickening crunch as he sent the youth crashing to the ground. Ignoring the groans of pain, Jon unleashed a barrage of savage kicks, his fury unchecked by the sight of the boy slipping into unconsciousness.
Even as the boy lay motionless, Jon continued his assault, the raucous laughter and jeers of his fellow pirates spurring him on. But the cacophony abruptly ceased as a heavy thud reverberated across the main deck, drawing everyone's attention to the captain's cabin.
The door stood ajar, revealing the imposing figure of Wellington, the ship's commander, his unkempt brown hair and bushy beard lending him a fearsome appearance. His inscrutable gaze swept over the assembled crew, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a blade.
"Someone explain what's going on here. Now!" Wellington demanded, his tone brooking no argument.
Jon's expression shifted from belligerent to sheepish in an instant as he approached Wellington with exaggerated deference. "Greetings, Cap'n," he stammered, his voice dripping with false respect. "Nothing much, you see... the cabin boy was slacking off, so I thought I'd teach him a lesson on your behalf..." he hastily explained, hoping to appease his formidable captain.
As Wellington's lips curved into a cold smile, a wave of apprehension rippled through the crew, save for Jon, who remained oblivious to the subtle undercurrents. "Acting on my behalf, are you?" Wellington's tone was deceptively calm, belying the simmering anger beneath.
Jon visibly relaxed, interpreting the captain's demeanor as a sign of leniency.
However, his relief was short-lived as Wellington's expression hardened.
"And who granted you such authority?" Wellington's voice thundered with suppressed rage as he seized Jon by the neck, effortlessly hoisting him off the ground.
The other pirates instinctively parted, creating a path to the ship's railing.
"I-I didn't mean to--" Jon's protests were cut short as Wellington's grip tightened, cutting off his air supply.
"What gave you the audacity to defy me, you treacherous scum?" Wellington's voice dripped with menace as he advanced toward the railing, dragging Jon along with him.
Jon's attempts to plead for mercy, mere pained grunts, and unintelligible gibberish fell on deaf ears as Wellington held him aloft, poised over the roiling waves below.
"After all these years of service, Jon," Wellington's smirk sent a chill down Jon's spine. "I'm not heartless enough to execute you outright. Consider this a test of loyalty," he declared, his tone chillingly casual.
"If you can swim back to the ship and climb aboard, I'll spare your life. Fail, and you'll meet a watery end," Wellington's ultimatum was punctuated by action as he hurled Jon into the sea with a strength that matched his bulk.
Jon plummeted into the icy depths, swallowed by the unforgiving embrace of the ocean.
Observing Jon's futile battle against the relentless waves, Wellington's lips curled into a cruel smile as he turned to his crewmates. "Full sail ahead!" he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative.
The old quartermaster, sensing the captain's intentions, flashed a sly smirk and drew his sword with practiced ease.
With a single deft stroke, he severed the ropes holding the main sail, the canvas unfurling with a sharp snap as it caught the wind. Without hesitation, he repeated the action with the second sail, his efficient movements leaving no chance for Jon to close the distance before the ship surged forward with a sudden jolt.
The other pirates exchanged knowing glances before rushing to the railing, eager to witness the spectacle unfolding before them. "Look at him go! The poor prick's swimming like his life depends on it!" one of the pirates jeered, his laughter echoing across the deck.
"Well, does depend on it, idiot!" retorted another, eliciting a chorus of laughter from the crew. Amidst the taunts and cheers, few truly harbored any concern for Jon's fate, save for those placing bets on his odds of survival.
In the end, Jon fought against the relentless waves for five long minutes, his desperation fueling newfound strength as he miraculously managed to grasp the rope dangling from the side of the ship, surprising everyone on board.
Exhausted and driven solely by the desire to set foot on deck, Jon forced himself to hoist his weary body overboard. As his head breached the railing, he was met with the menacing sight of a flint pistol pointed directly at him.
"No! don--" Jon's plea was cut short by the deafening blast of a gunshot, the sound reverberating across the deck as his lifeless body tumbled into the unforgiving waters below. Wellington, his expression devoid of emotion, calmly holstered his pistol before addressing his stunned crew.
"Listen up, you scoundrels!" Wellington's voice rang out, commanding the attention of all who stood witness. "This ship, and everything aboard it, be it treasure or people, belongs to me! Anyone who dares to touch what is mine will meet the same fate as Jon!"
With that chilling declaration, Wellington turned and strode casually toward the captain's cabin, leaving his subordinates frozen in fear.
Among them stood the first mate, a tall, lanky figure adorned with pistols, his cold exterior masking the simmering rage boiling beneath the surface as he watched Wellington disappear into the cabin.
...
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