Florette VIII: The Pirate

“It’s so beautiful.” The coast had remained in sight for the whole trip, cascading mountains to the right and sparkling ocean to the left. Once the Seaward Folly had gotten far enough north to put Dorseille in sight, the mountains had given way to lush green foothills, small patches of white visible where flocks of sheep grazed.

“You’ll get used to it pretty quickly.” Eloise shrugged. “Anything gets boring once you see it often enough.”

That had certainly applied to the wobbliness of the ship. It was strange, the lack of firm ground underneath her feet, but easily enough adjusted to, especially given the circumstances that put her on this boat. “You just love to take the fun out of everything, don’t you?”

The quartermaster smiled. “Yes.”

I walked into that one. “If I really will get bored of it, which I’m not sure I believe you about, then that’s all the more reason to enjoy it now, isn’t it?”

“Suit yourself,” she grunted. “Just make sure you’re ready for battle by noon. Grab a sword from the armory, and we’ll just hope you don’t have to use it.”

“Wait, what’s happening at noon?”

Eloise smiled. “Take a wild guess.”

“Asshole. How do you already know there’s going to be a battle? I don’t see any ships here.”

With a chuckle, Eloise tapped Florette’s arm, the cold finger sending a shiver down her spine. “Avalon employs a fair few spies. A few of them like to make a bit of extra money on the side, so every now and then they throw us tips for a commission.”

“You have agents planted in Avalon?” Florette leaned forward. Eloise had insisted that she was only doing this for the money, but that prospect opened up a whole world of possibilities to subvert Avalon from the inside.

“Nothing so dramatic. Take Jethro, for example, the one who passed us this latest tip. He’s still Avalon’s man, and he’d never endanger his country for anything severe. But pocketing a few thousand florins as a finder’s fee just to let us know a royal-class vessel is headed down from Cambria today? Well, all that means is that some noble in Malin loses out on their jewelry.”

“Royal? Will the king be on it?” Florette’s eyes widened, imagining the possibility. “I’d love to stare him in the eyes and tell him what I think of his rule with the point of my sword.”

Eloise smirked. “Easy there, regicide. Royal-class just means it’s fit for royal use, which is more of a status symbol for other nobles than any real indication of crown ownership. The vast majority are lumbering pleasure barges that the Folly could catch sailing backwards. Most of the time, there’s not even a noble on it, just their imported silks and jewel-encrusted facial paste and what have you. Well, that and the poor servants and guards left to see it there safely. That’s why it’s such a nice find: valuable goods without people all that devoted to defending them.”

“Then why do we need to prepare for battle?”

“Threats need to be credible, and it’s not as if we won’t attack if they make us. This one’s headed for Governor Perimont, according to Jethro, which probably means some excellent liquor and golden statues of him that’ll still fetch a fair price when melted down. Not something to die for, and we’ll make that clear to the crew. But for that to work, you have to show them what happens if they refuse.”

“Perimont…” The man who ruled Malin in Avalon’s name. Even in Guerron, his reputation was well-known: an iron grip enforced at the gallows, his forresters smothering any hint of rebellion in the crib. “It’s not King Harold, but it’ll do.”

“Not stabbing him either, but you’d have to catch him on the boat for that. It’ll still piss him off. More importantly, it’s more easy money. You’re like a seashell charm, Florette, granting us such good luck.” Though Eloise’s tone didn’t change, it was obvious from context that she was being sincere.

The praise warmed Florette’s cheeks. “I’ll go grab something then. I don’t remember seeing an armory though. Where—”

“Back of the storeroom. You can’t miss it.” Eloise smirked again. “I think the Captain’s in at the moment, if you want help picking one out.”

The storeroom, at least, Florette knew how to find. No one but Captain Verrou and Eloise were allowed inside normally, but Eloise had taken her there often when she was “sick of being around those knuckleheaded lackwits” and “needed some fucking privacy”, usually splitting a drink or two before heading back out.

The door was open now though, which probably meant Eloise was right about the Captain being inside.

Within the bowels of the ship, the flickering torches ensconced on the walls cast long shadows ahead of her, stretching into the storeroom. The crew quarters was stuffed full of them, as bright and full of light as anything belowdecks could be, but the storeroom only needed a minimum of it for visibility, and only on occasion at that.

It made the flame of Captain Verrou’s candle from the back of the room stand out all the clearer, flitting through the gaps in the shelves of goods.

“Hello, Captain!” she called, still feeling a surge of excitement every time she uttered the words. “Eloise said I ought to come pick out a sword from the armory.”

The Captain sighed, pointing down at a wooden box near his feet. The light from his candle illuminated the label “armory” drawn across it in thick black letters.

“That’s Eloise alright.” Florette smiled, bending down to rummage through the box.

“Actually, that joke’s a decade old. We keep our own weapons at hand, so all that’s here are the extras not worth selling. After you’ve been through a few raids, you’ll probably steal something you like better yourself.”

“Hmm. I guess that makes sense.” She grabbed a one-handed sword, long and thin, with a curling floral pattern over the knuckle guard. “What do you think of this one?”

Verrou laughed. “Do you know what it’s called?”

She frowned. “A rapier?”

He shook his head. “A rapier is similar, though. It’s known as a foil back in Guerron, but the Arboreum word for it is a florete.”

Florette snorted. “Fitting.”

“Slashing weapons are something of a taboo there, given their traditions. That one was a gift from Her Verdance, as part of an exchange for a series of books on rot and disease. Not terribly well suited to anyone in the crew, but I didn’t want to discard it.”

“Interesting.” She held the sword up to the Captain’s candle, watching the orange light bounce off of the thin blade. “And it’s alright for me to use it?”

“Of course! Though if things go well today, you may not need to.”

“Eloise mentioned that. It seems strange that you could rob people without even attacking them, though. You’re pirates, right?”

Verrou smiled. “We are pirates, Florette, and in this profession nothing is as important as presentation. Take a walk with me, would you?”

Florette nodded, sheathing the sword and fixing it to her belt.

“Imagine yourself a merchant captain.” He picked up the candle and began walking out of the storeroom. “You’ve been discharged with the duty of seeing your ship’s goods safely to the other port. Losing them could mean ruination of at least weeks of work, with the potential for more severe fallout from the ship’s owner, or any joint stock corporations involved in the venture.”

“Ok. I can do that, even if I’m not really sure what a joint stock is.”

“It’s not important. Even in Avalon, they’re not too common outside of Cambria.” He pulled the key from his jacket and locked the storeroom. “The important thing is to imagine what happens when you see a ship on the horizon, flying the dread orange and black flag of the notorious Robin Verrou. What would you do?”

“Out on the horizon?” She took a moment to think. “If it’s that far, I’d probably just sail away. Even if the Folly’s a faster ship, it would be worth trying to reach safer waters.”

“Exactly!” He held his arm down another hallway, also poorly lit, where Florette had never had occasion to be before. “And so you notice, we do not fly the crossed swords of Verrou, nor do I wear my Coat of Nocturne. And…” He held his candle out to a gleaming metal cannon resting against the side of the ship. “We keep these inside, with a canvas tarp covering over the openings.”

“I see!” She patted the side of the cannon. “Shock tactics. Like when the Rhanoir invaded the Isle of Soleil. You maintain the facade of a fellow merchant until it’s too late. But won’t any sailor from Avalon recognise the Seaward Folly?”

“Up close, absolutely. But from afar, one ship looks much the same as another. Especially with our speed lowered by the ballast dragging behind. Blaise has the system perfected.” He smiled. “Once we close in on the target, we raise the crossed swords of Verrou, uncover the cannons, and cut the ballast, showing our true might and terrifying the poor crew of the opposing ship. That goes a long way towards scaring them into giving up without a fight.”

Florette tapped the side of her leg. “And when, as that merchant, pirates run off with my treasure, what happens to me next?” She had a feeling she knew the answer.

The Captain frowned. “Often it is the workers who suffer the most, punished for their masters’ failure. Theirs is a pitiful existence, enthralled to a fundamentally unjust system, but I won’t lie and say that their suffering is fair. They didn’t choose their life, not really. But they can choose now.” He looked up at the wooden ceiling. “Eloise mentioned what you said to the harpist so she’d buy the pulsebox. It belongs to everyone.”

“Yeah…?”

“People are much the same way. They want to be free, even when systems keep them in place. In Avalon, they don’t always have a choice, but we make sure to give them one. Elizabeth joined us that way, abandoning her vessel rather than suffer for her captain’s idiocy, as well as many others who have since moved on.

“Victims do not deserve their plight, Florette. But they who once offered freedom refuse it are forever doomed to be crushed by the system. If not us, it would simply be something else. Take no pleasure in it, but do what must be done.”

“I will,” Florette stated firmly. “I’ll prove it today.”

“Good.” The Captain smiled. “I have high hopes for you.”

Florette beamed, dipping her head and departing.

She still had a bit of time to prepare, so she spent it improving her form with the new sword.

Thin and light, it was surprisingly easy to move, swishing through the air better than any of the wooden rods she’d practiced with back in Enquin, cast-off pickaxe handles and whittled tree branches and the like. She focused on lunging, since the edge of the blade wasn’t particularly sharp.

But that was merely play compared to this. A real pirate battle! With none other than Robin Verrou’s own crew. It was almost impossible to imagine, and yet here she was.

It meant she had to be at her best. When the time for battle arrived, she wanted to be ready to buckle swashes with the best of them.

It wasn’t long before they caught sight of the ship, a pristine black and red vessel with a surprisingly narrow profile.

Eloise whistled. “That’s quite a pleasure barge. I wonder if we can even catch it.”

“We will,” Captain Verrou assured her. “The Seaward Folly was the fastest ship in Avalon before Blaise set about refining it. It’s certainly an impressive ship, though, a fast clipper with all the amenities of a royal-class vessel. Not too recognizable, either, after a paint job. We might even want to hold onto it once it’s captured, rather than selling it off.”

“Really?” Eloise blurted, in a stark contrast from her usual tone. Quickly, she composed herself again. “I suppose that’s sensible.”

“Now,” Robin Verrou stated quietly as he shrugged on his pitch dark Coat of Nocturne, an eerie garment that seemed to swallow any light that touched it, reflecting nothing but a textureless abyss. Even knowing they were fighting together, it was ominous to look at.

Then, everything happened all at once. The shipmaster, Cordelia, was ready at the flagpole, drawing up the black swords on an orange sea and pulling down the Avalon standard. Blaise drew his knife across a thin cord at the back of the ship, flinging it off the stern.

“This is their chance to surrender.” Eloise patted Florette on the back. “We’ll see them slow down over the next few minutes, then sail up next to them to board it. Avalon’s a brainy bunch, so you can be sure they’ll make the smart choice.”

They didn’t.

If anything, the other ship seemed to be moving faster, trying to break away from the reach of the Folly.

“That’s strange…” Captain Verrou scratched his chin. “Well, there it is. After them!”

The Seaward Folly was faster than the other ship, but it took almost half an hour to completely close the gap. The other pirates hadn’t paid it much mind, laughing and drinking and playing cards on the deck when they weren’t busy with the ship duties, but Florette had spent the whole time clutching the wooden bannister at the edge of the ship, staring out at her approaching destiny.

Everyone sprang into action quickly enough once the ship was within their grasp, though, fastening their blades to their hip and donning padded leather. Most had a dagger or dirk in addition to a sword, but no one had indicated that Florette ought to find one, so she assumed she was fine.

The other ship was so close that Florette could even see the opposing crew doing the same, all dressed in the red jackets and brown breeches of Avalon guards.

“You know how this works,” Eloise called out to the other deck. “Last chance to surrender.”

Captain Verrou shook his head sadly. “They would have lowered their flag before we caught up to them.” He turned to the rest of the crew, all gathered on the top of the deck. “Spare anyone who looks wealthy enough that we can get a good ransom. Otherwise, the usual guidelines apply.” He tossed a rope across, a grappling hook attached to the end to hook against the rigging above and grant them access, and jumped off the edge of the ship, grabbing the rope and swinging over to the other side. “Good hunting!”

Florette tried to ask about the usual guidelines, but her voice was drowned out by the cacophony of battle cries and charges.

More ropes quickly followed the Captain’s, crewmates grabbing and pulling the opposite ship closer and closer even as the other crew tried to dislodge them. The pirates were faster though, and managed to shorten the gap down to a few feet. Some stayed to lash the ships together while the rest poured over to the other side.

Last among them to cross, Florette chose her path carefully, following Eloise over to a comparatively underpopulated area of the other deck. She landed with a thump and drew her florete.

The royal-class ship’s crew was occupied, outnumbered by the pirates and pushed back into a corner by their assault. Captain Verrou alone was dueling three of them and winning, feinting with a swish of his cloak and ducking or parrying their every attack. And Eloise was simply hanging back, brandishing a thin lance as she waited for anyone to try their luck against her.

I won’t accomplish much by joining in. Already, many were throwing down their weapons in surrender or falling to the ground with a scream.

Florette ran to the door belowdecks and snuck inside. They could handle things up there, and there seemed to be little opportunity to participate; this was where she could prove herself.

The hall was far wider than that of the Folly, with candle sconces of what looked like pure silver, and tapestries splayed across the walls. Score!

But one room at the back seemed even more promising, massive black oak double doors surrounded by red trim, an insignia of a dark disc embossed across them.

They were locked when she tried to open them, which was an even better indication of something valuable behind them. “Open up!” she called out, pressing her ear against the door to hear if there would be a response.

No one spoke, but through the door there was the sound of a sharp intake of breath. Perfect.

She thumped the door with the back of her shoulder, shaking it slightly but not accomplishing much else. “Your sailors have fallen. The ship is ours, with all the time in the world to ram through to you.” Probably true, soon enough, but technically a lie. “Cooperation will earn you much, while delaying the inevitable will only make things worse. Open the door, and you won’t be harmed.”

A tense moment passed, and then Florette heard a click. She pushed the door open with her left hand while her right readied the sword.

Immediately, she had to dodge a slash of a dagger through the gap in the door, dark green velvet sleeves attached to the arm swinging it.

“That’s not a surrender,” she snarled, stepping back to face her assailant in a fencer’s profile, turned sideways to expose as little area as possible. She was short, and young, not much older than Fernan. A mop of tousled red and brown hair nearly covered her face, hanging down over her unpatterned green shirt.

Florette tensed. “Throw down your weapon and we can—”

The girl threw the dagger, hitting Florette in her leather padded shoulder on her left.

Florette felt a prick of pain, but it was quickly drowned out by the pounding in her ears, the feeling of her sword in her hand, and the spring in her legs as she lunged, thrusting her sword forward.

When she pulled it back, it was slick with blood, and the girl fell down to the floor without another word. She seemed even smaller as her dark red essence trickled out onto the floor. Whatever the Captain had said seemed so distant, now.

She didn’t even realize she’d been shaking until a man stood up from behind the desk at the back of the room. Tall and thin, with short dark brown hair and high cheekbones that stretched his face, there was something strangely familiar about him.

Maybe it was simply that she saw her expression mirrored in his, the uncomprehending horror and jittering fear.

“I surrender,” the man croaked weakly. “Please don’t… I’ll cooperate. Whatever you need.”

“Ok,” Florette breathed softly. “Ok. Come up to the deck with me. And don’t—”

“I won’t try anything!” he said a touch too quickly. “I told Cassia not to either, but—” he choked, blinking away tears.

“I’m sorry.” She stared down at the bloody sword in her hands. “I don’t… I wish—”

The man’s tearful groan interrupted her, and she fell silent.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be. Adventure on the high seas, treasure, brave and loyal companions. In the stories, the pirates never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it, like the Queen of the Exiles defying that pompous Micheltaigne High King, or Robin Verrou betraying the King of Avalon in the wake of the Foxtrap. Not… Not this.

“How old was she?” Florette asked, regretting the question as soon as it left her lips. “I mean—”

“Eighteen. Cassia and I were supposed to hide while the crew took care of the pirates, but she wanted to be a hero. No matter my objections, she insisted that she had to protect me.” He sighed, wiping tears from his eyes. “I’m sure Governor Perimont is more than capable of paying any ransom, so please, don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t,” she assured him, trying not to think about the girl in the room. “I won’t,” she said again, more softly. “She attacked me first. You must have seen it.” Even from Florette’s own lips, it sounded hollow. She’d been threatening to break their door down, and who knew what else?

The man frowned, not deigning to answer.

The deck was sticky to walk on, coated red with the blood of the fallen. Their bodies too.

She could smell it before she saw the pile. Even in the open air it was overwhelming, and it only got worse as she got closer. Her hostage noticed it too, choking and wheezing.

“Florette!” Eloise shouted as she tossed one of the corpses over the side. Blood was dripping down her face, hastily wiped out of the way of her eyes, but she didn’t seem too bothered by it. “Was wondering where’d you gone off to. Thought maybe you’d jumped ship.”

“I’m here.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Wiping more blood from her forehead, she left the pile and stepped closer. “I see red on your sword, but you don’t have a scratch on you. You didn’t stab a corpse to look like you fought, did you?”

“No.” If only. “There was someone guarding the back room, belowdecks. She— I killed her. Her name was Cassia.”

“Alright.” Eloise patted her on the back. “And secured some treasure too, by the looks. Who’s the hostage?”

Florette turned back to look at him, sunken to his knees on the red-stained deck, tears still in his eyes.

“Gerald Airion,” he offered. “Cassia is—was my sister. I was supposed to go to Malin to see Governor Perimont and His Majesty, and I thought it would be good to have her along. I—” He sobbed again. “I brought her here. If I’d just…”

Florette felt her own eyes starting to water, but quickly blinked it away. There was no place for that here, among these people. It would only make things worse.

“Hey Captain!” Eloise called out. “Know anyone named Gerald Airion?”

Robin Verrou looked immaculate, not a speck of blood on his empty black coat or the slightest ruffle to his tricorn hat. “Lord Miles’s nephew.” He ran his eyes up and down the hostage. “But you don’t look much like that family.”

The hostage gulped.

Verrou smiled. “Tell me then: are you Prince Harold or Prince Luce? Either way, the spitting image of your father at your age.”

His eyes went wide, but he remained silent.

“Oh, come now, I don’t blame you for the deception. It was only reasonable. But now your ruse is up.” He wrapped his arm around the shivering man. “The sooner you tell me, the sooner we can get you ransomed and sent back to your father. Or Perimont, if you prefer. It won’t be inexpensive, but I’m sure your family can cover it easily enough.”

“I’m Luce,” he spat out.

“Wonderful.” Verrou wrinkled his nose, stepping back and turning to the other pirates. “Cordelia, Blaise, and Eloise, could I speak with you for a moment?”

Eloise shrugged and went to join them, huddled and whispering near the mast. Leaving Florette alone with the prince.

It was easy enough to see, now. His impeccable red silk shirt, his unwrinkled jacket. The fact that he’d been sequestered away from the fighting. “Your grandfather killed my parents,” she muttered, more of a realization than an accusation. “You’re party to everything wrong with the world.”

“I try not to be.” Luce took a deep breath. “But I wouldn’t expect you to believe that.”

“I don’t.”

He sighed. “Avalon will pay for centuries for the mistakes of Harold III. Even in Cambria, we call him Harold the Hungry, and it’s not meant as praise.”

“Not by you, maybe. The likes of Perimont probably visit his tomb every morning to kiss his ass.”

Luce didn’t respond, conceding the point.

“Attention!” Verrou called out. “After conferring with the officers, we’ve come to an agreement. This is a fine vessel in excellent condition, better captured than sunk. As quartermaster, Eloise has first right of refusal to captain it, and she wishes to do so.”

What? What? How was all of this moving so fast?

Eloise smiled, her thin lips stretched across her face like a marionette. “Any of you lunkheads are welcome to join if you’d like, but I’m just as happy to gather a new crew in Malin. I know a few people there who’d jump at the opportunity.”

Not many stepped forward, but Elizabeth and the boy she’d been sitting with came up to Eloise, along with a few people Florette still didn’t recognize. I ought to go, she thought as she remained rooted to her spot.

The newly minted captain turned to Florette, then back to the few people ready to join her. “I move that I train Florette to be the quartermaster of our new ship, in light of what she’s accomplished. All in favor?”

The vote from Eloise’s small collection of new crew members was unanimous, a chorus of “aye”s ringing in her ears.

“Good.” Eloise nimbly jumped over a puddle of blood, wrapping her arm around Florette. “Prepare to be whipped into shape.”

“I can’t wait,” Florette said, not sure if it was a lie.