Your Honor,
I present to you a recollection of mine, detailing an attack committed against a ship in the Crown’s fleet by the accused, the men and women of the “pirate” Galleon, The Maiden’s Courage. I present this to you in the hopes that you will understand what caused us to rebel against what we see as a corrupt and oppressive society that has broken this band God’s wayward children, and which has seen fit to curse and bless us with power.
We had been tracking the Crown’s Man of War, the Unyielding, hoping to liberate a particular prisoner onboard, as well as halt its aggression against the towns filled with struggling women, children, and men.
In the Hope that you will show mercy upon the souls of my crew,
Captain Fredrick Leon
Ex-Pastor of the Church of the Crown.
September 5, Year 137 of your king, Romulus IV
“Dear Heavenly Father,
“We know that you are sovereign in all things. We know that you punish the wicked and reward those who serve righteousness-who serve you. As we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we know that you are with us. Thy will be done. Amen.”
As the pirates left the chapel, Daniel Rouls felt hands grab him from the crowd, dragging him into the darkness and slamming him into the wall. Lips met his, and as two souls attempted to bring the other person into themselves, hands slid under shirts, not to grope or possess, but simply to hold and reassure the other person by the warmth of skin against skin.
The kiss was held long after the passion had run its course, simply because the two were loath to let go, loath to join the battle. The pair were still getting used to the fact that they could show affection to each other without being hunted by your government. I only lead these men because there’s something so wrong with your society that there’s nowhere for these lost men and women to live which gives them freedom and acceptance.
“I love you,” Daniel’s lover said. “Stay safe, okay?”
“Well, I kinda have to, now that I have such a perfect husband.”
Daniel’s Husband smiled, and led him by the hand into the battle.
Pirates scrambled across the ship, running to take up their positions. I stood by the helm as my first mate, Schuyler, took up the steering wheel.
“Trim the sails and bring her to starboard.” I commanded. “Bring her in near the shore. If we can hug the shoreline into the harbor we might just be able to take these Crown dastards by surprise. Princess, cast your protection spell!”
Princess Adeline stood at the base of the mast, and called upon the magic that was her royal birthright. Runes lit up along the mast with a ghostly white light, traveling along the sail. An energy barrier projected out around the ship in an oval shape, hovering in the air for a moment before disappearing.
It wouldn’t save us from more than a few cannonballs in any particular spot, but anything I could do to keep my crew safe, I would do.
Many of you believe that in joining this crew I renounced my priesthood. I was simply following Jesus’ example. He ministered to the sinners, to the Samaritans, to those who were lost. Your so-called “church” casts out and murders these people, who have done nothing wrong other than to simply love who they choose or flee from oppression. Do I believe that these sinners deserve Heaven?
No. No one on this entire planet deserve salvation.
I’m simply attempting to do what the church won’t; introduce them to the Grace of Jesus Christ.
Weather it leads them to change their ways or not is their own business.
“Raise the colors!” I declared.
Our flag rose up along the main sail. While most of our peers fly under the Jolly Roger, our flag consists of a crude, white fish outline against a blue sail-the emblem of the Fisher of Men, a symbol once drawn in the dust to ask a friend a simple question: “Are you a Christian?” It now posed that question to the Crown.
The night was mature, old enough to keep us tucked in, hidden away in the embrace of her darkness.
As we rounded the corner of the harbor, we could see the Crown ship, lying still on the water. Seeing the bold crimson colors splashed across the top of the hull sent shivers down the spines of everyone onboard my ship.
We’d all been tortured by the designs of the crown. Several of our number, myself included, came from towns the Crown felt weren’t paying enough taxes. They sent bands of men to rape, pillage, and murder a town until they could squeeze them dry, destroying them as a message to the rest of the kingdom, as a warning of what opposition would cost.
Opposition, or just trying to survive in a way that wasn’t prosperous enough to give enough profits to the government to fund crusading against even more innocent people.
“Prepare a starboard broadside!” I shouted.
Shouts of jubilation rose among the men as they loaded the cannons.
“Captain,” Princess Adeline said, walking over to me, the simple white dress from her days as a royal cleric flapping in the wind, “He is here.”
I nodded.
She was speaking of Sir Matthew, the legendary hero. He was born a thousand years ago at the dawn of the Crown. He was the one who defended our Christian way of life against the monsters, witches, and pagans who sought to take it away from us. Legend states that when he went to Heaven, we were promised that he would be sent back whenever the world needed him.
Whether his resurrection is divine or demonic, or a series of souls have simply up taken his name in their quest for righteousness, the crown has been purified in his name a number of times. I have sought him out, as he would bolster our crew and allow us to pose a more significant threat against the crown due to his legendary skill and power. Additionally, he is said to be drawn to a legendary sword that was housed amongst other treasure, which gave my crew reason to want to rescue him.
Princess Adeline had only joined the crew because her father had forbidden her to marry him. Reuniting her with her lover is a quest that I consider to be worth the rescue in and of itself.
To the world’s vexation, this time around, his reincarnation came with a hitch.
The boom of the canons split the night wide open as we fired upon the Crown vessel.
Several of our shots split open upon hitting the enemy ship. We had enchanted a number of them to explode into fire upon hitting the enemy ship. Several others we had enchanted with a spell of Holy Light. The ones blessed with Holy Light were aimed below decks. They punched through the hull and rolled onto the floor. The enchantment then activating, causing light to flood the area. It resonated with the good in the hearts of those it came across, giving them the strength to fight back and resist the Crown, and it took hearts flooded with evil and turned that darkness into a poison, sapping adrenaline and replacing it with exhaustion and lethargy.
Of course, the Holy Light is not as effective against the crown as it is against pirates. A cannonball filled with it crashed into the cannon banks of the enemy ship, and the men who were loading cannonballs didn’t even flinch as the light washed over them. Somewhere in the back of their head, their doubt in the so-called just nature of the crown was expanded. But they believed they were fighting bloodthirsty pirates. They believed that they were doing what they had to in order to protect their homes, so they continued to fight.
Elsewhere on the ship, one such cannonball rolled in front of a cramped, dark cage, spilling light onto the pirate’s captives, a group of those born as women. They had been huddled together, weeping, but at the Holy Light, they stiffened. Courage filled their hearts.
In the back of the cage, a lean figure stirred. He sat up, the holy light affecting him more keenly than the more mortal women.
“Been a while since I had a bit of juice,” He said. The pitch of his voice was lower than the women he was caged with, yet still high enough to sound feminine.
“’Scuse me, ladies,” He said, pushing through his fellow prisoners. He approached the door, and reached his hand through the bars, taking hold of the lock.
The Legendary Blood that ran through his veins made him stronger than any normal man, in spite of his feminine physique; bolstered by the power of the holy light, he could outwrestle everyone in the Crown’s fleet. He gripped the lock tightly in his hands and pulled sharply. The handle of the lock easily broke off, and the door swung open.
“Bingo,” He said. “I’m going to go get my hands on some weapons. I’ll be right back.”
He kept to the shadows. While he was only a handful of years into manhood, the instincts of combat were embedded into his soul. His instinct for stealth was so finely attuned that he was able to sneak up on the guard who was taunting another group of women within their cage and draw the other man’s sword from its sheath without the guard noticing until he felt a poke in his back. He turned to find a sword pressed up to his chest.
The guard’s eyes widened. “Impossible…beaten by a woman-“
“Not quite.” Sir Matthew said with a grin. “Now, let’s get these prison doors open.”
Our ship cut through the harbor, using the crown ship as a turning radius to progress towards the shore. The Crown ship was at a disadvantage in this respect, as it was close enough to shore that it could not maneuver properly without risking running aground. On the other hand, this meant that we could not get too close without running the same risk.
“Bring us around!” I shouted at my first mate, Schuyler. Her hood was drawn close over her face, but you could see a faint glow from within. “Switch our broadside to port, and ready the cables! We’re boarding this ship!”
Boarding the ship was risky-as is anything involving cornered and desperate men-but it was likely that we would have no choice if we wanted to rescue the hostages that were undoubtedly onboard. We had previously lost a treasure due to a man grabbing it and running off of a burning ship before we could board, so my men did not question me, and simply prepared to board as quickly as possible.
Crossbowmen lined up on the side of my ship, and fired their bolts towards the other ship. they covered the short length between the two ships, whilst dangling ropes behind them to bridge the two ships.
“Take over for her, will you?” I gestured to one of the helmsmen, who took the steering wheel, holding her steady. Schuyler walked to my side.
“We’re going to need some distractions. Something to keep them from shooting the men right in front of their face.” I said to her.
“My pleasure, Captain.” She replied joyfully. She eagerly walked to the side of the ship, and leapt onto the railing.
For a moment, my mind wandered back in time. I saw Schuyler as a meek and humble nun. She had joined the nunnery to escape an arranged marriage to a man who had already given her scars in an attempt to “discipline” her. My mentor was entranced by her beauty, and repeatedly asked her to give up her commitment and serve him. Not marry, for he was already had the hand of a wealthy woman. He simply wanted a servant who would be under his every whim. She rejected his lust and greed repeatedly. I found her one day, bruised and battered, sobbing that the rest of her life would be ruined because of him. The next day, he publicly condemned her as a witch. I defended her, and entered into a long a bitter court battle. The matter of my fall from grace is a public record, but I was able to make people question his purity, his commitment. After a few moons of a nasty court battle, I ultimately made him snap.
I was walking through the bowels of the church one day when I heard muffled screaming, followed by soft Latin chanting. The chanting was not abnormal for this area of the church, but the screaming made me investigate further.
I found her in naught but her undergarments, bound to a table. My mentor, my friend, the man who had raised me for most of my life in the church-he had lit candles around her, and chanted softly as he poured some sort of concoction down her throat, a liquid that was green and boiling hot, as it was giving off copious amounts of steam.
Reports of the incident say that I was possessed by a demon, that my actions were coerced. That I didn’t know what I was doing. Yes, I was angry. I was furious. I had watched this man destroy or neglect more lives than I could count, when he had the power to make a difference. It was time to do something. To stop him from leading the church into darkness, in a way that only I could, in the only way that could possibly remove him from power.
I calmly picked up his sword from where he had dropped it, and stabbed him in the back.
I repent. I do. What I did was wrong.
But it had to be done.
I’d do it all again, to give Schuyler the chance to live her life on her own terms.
Presently, she flipped her hood back, and her hair emerged into the night, each curl a tongue of flame. The light lit up the night like a beacon, and we all had to look away to avoid being blinded. Her tormentor wanted to make her look like a witch, and through dark magic, he succeeded.
She peeled her specially-made fireproof glove off of her hand, and held her hand open, her fingers curling into the space above her palm. Her hands were ashen, with a texture similar to scales or burning bark, permanently ablaze by the curse upon her.
She smiled, and a fireball generated from her fingers, pooling into her hand. When it was big enough, she hurled it at the crown vessel.
The fireball flew across the distance, and smacked into the rear of the enemy ship, flames curling into the wood, permeating it, and setting the ship ablaze. The next fireball slammed across the deck, sending the area awash with flames and incinerating several unfortunate sailors.
“Princess!” I shouted.
Princess Adeline raced to the railing, and held out her hand over the ropes. Her protection spell raced along them, the ropes shivering with magical power.
“Come on!” Our men raced onto the ropes. There were enough that we were able to balance on both feet, and those who fell would find more ropes to catch them.
A cannonball slammed into the air in front of Schuyler’s face, causing the protection spell
to distort the air in front of her face. The shot bounced away, hurling off into the night. A second canon shot soared towards the ropes, but was deflected off of the bottom of them, into the water.
The Crown’s men walked onto our ropes from the other side. While they had been finely trained in combat on the land and sea, we were in the air. They struggled to balance, while my men had done this dozens of times. They also tried firing at us from the deck with their pistols, which proved a futile effort due to the spell. When the walked onto the ropes, however, they entered through the barrier, and my men were able to pick them off with pistols.
I leapt onto the enemy ship, and raised my sword straight upwards. Schuyler saw, and snapped her fingers. The fire on the enemy ship put itself out, and the ship smoldered.
My men walked onto the deck behind me, a half-dozen in my first attack wave.
“Back, pirate devils!” One of the Crown sailors shouted, and they rushed us.
The Crown’s army generally consists of two types of people-the power hungry, and those who were impressed into service. Those who are power hungry generally rank higher, have better weapons, and have better training. For instance, the soldier who attacked me struck me with a vertical slash, one that acknowledged the limited space, and was designed to keep his own men from being injured.
Those who were trained by the crown were predictable.
I parried with precision, and engaged him in a familiar series of exercises. After my high parry, I swung low, and he parried. He stabbed towards my torso, and I blocked, again matching him.
I began the cycle again, as I would if we were practicing amongst the training stations this young man had likely trained in. Let him strike high, then I strike low and he blocks. I sidestepped his blade as he stabbed at my torso, leaving me open to run my sword through his chest.
For a moment, the battle disappeared. I was watching as my blade stabbed through my mentor, a pastor who took me under his wing and gave me all of the power I obtained in the church. Schuyler looked up at the blade sticking through his chest, green smoke pouring out of her mouth.
Blood bubbled up from the wound, not gushing or flowing in the way that I thought it would, but slowly dribbling down his chest.
The vial that he had been feeding her fell onto the table beside her, shattering. She gave a sob of relief as she watched his body fall, stumbling against the table to which he had bound her.
He looked back at me.
“You never could understand the power that we have at our fingertips, reverend.”
Then, Schuyler began to convulse. I stood back as her skin turned black and burned, as energy sizzled outwards, and began to incinerate my mentor’s corpse.
The battle snapped back into being. I pushed my foe off of my sword, the same sword I stabbed my mentor with all those years ago, and let the dying man fall. Now the blood gushed from his chest, pooling over the deck.
I stepped back as my men stormed the enemy troops.
“Search the decks below!” I commanded, as a few more men joined mine, and together they entered into the lower decks.
Daniel Rouls hung back, standing next to me.
“Schuyler sent me over to see that you were OK, sir.” He said.
“Very thoughtful of her,” I muttered. She was the only person who I confided in about my demons. “I’ll be fine, just a tough sparring match. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Daniel. How’s your husband doing?”
“He’s fine, a bit ready to be off of the ship, but-“ Daniel’s words were cut off by a gunshot that cut through the night. Daniel fell against me, and my eyes widened, staring straight ahead.
“Don’t move, pirate scum.” A single officer said, holding a pistol straight at my head.
Daniel collapsed onto the ground. A brief glance showed blood coming from his leg-just a flesh wound, but still enough to get infected and cause problems.
I kept eye contact with the officer, and dropped my sword, slowly raising my hands-
A thrown blade slammed into the officer’s gun, knocking it out of the officer’s hand and sending it scattering across the deck. The officer turned, raising his blade just in time to block an overhead blow from Matthew. Matthew fought with none of the refined, elegant tact that the officers possessed. His movements were wild and unrefined, more like those of an imp than of a man, to the untrained eye. As I watched, I knew that each move was made with precision, to disorient his opponent and attempt to lure him into overextending or dropping his guard. Each blow struck his foe’s blade down with more strength than his frame implied, each one pushed the officer to his limits, rapidly pushing the officer back until he hit the railing at the edge of the ship. He turned, looking over his shoulder.
That was his last mistake. Matthew’s blade sliced straight through his neck, sending his head hurling into Davy Jones’ Locker.
“Daniel!” I said, bending down to bandage the wound.
“I’m fine, Captain.” He muttered. “I’ve always wanted a peg leg.”
“Will he be all right?” Matthew asked.
“He’ll be fine.” I said, picking him up. “Cover me as I take him across to my ship, will you?”
We had barely gotten onto my ship when Matthew was completely engulfed by curly blonde hair and a simple white dress. The princess had thrown herself onto him with enough force that I had to reach out to push the two of them back onto the ship, as she almost threw him over the railing.
Daniel smiled, as our ship’s doctor came and ordered him onto a stretcher. The Princess backed off, looking Matthew hard in the face.
“What?” He said.
“I’ve wasted so much time waiting for you to return, and yet you might never had.” She said. “I’ve lived with the regret of what went unsaid all that time. I’m not going to keep it secret any longer.” And then she kissed him.
Christian Vaughan 