Sylvamente

The project that I am most focused on publishing next is an anthology of short stories that take place in the low fantasy, nautical world of Sylvamente. I’ve been developing the world for a few years, but I gotta wrote the damn thing! Below is the current draft of the first short story in that series. Enjoy!

The Fisherman’s Boy

Sam sits alone on the edge of an empty boardwalk, his feet dangling over a rising tide. The sunset celebration continues behind him, but his heart isn’t in it anymore. What used to be a nightly festival thrown by the entire town is now just a smattering of street performers and food vendors desperately seeking their daily keep. 

Church should be out by now, but still nobody’s coming to the festival. Sam can’t help but wonder how many more sunset celebrations will happen before they disappear completely. That scary thought puts a frown on his face, so he decides it’s time to leave. 

Where the town square lacks festival-goers, the rest of the town makes up for in Askiri patrols. Packs of military guards roam the streets, keeping an eye out for trouble-makers. By himself, Sam doesn’t carve a more threatening figure than any other pre-teen boy, but that doesn’t keep the soldiers from eyeing him. 

The Askiri have always maintained a presence on the island of Abbraccio, but since it’s so far away from the rest of the kingdom, it’s considered the edge of civilized waters. Only local conscripts actually volunteer to be stationed here, but recently it seems that the number of Askiri has doubled or tripled since just a few months ago. Sam and his dad have had to change their fishing spots due to the half-dozen Askiri ships littering their waters.

When Sam makes it home, he helps his parents prepare dinner, but when they sit around the table, his dad says, “Sammy, everyone at church asked where you were. I didn’t know what to tell them, so we had to say that you were getting the boat ready for tomorrow.” 

Sam asks, “Why didn’t you just tell them the truth? There’s nothing wrong with going to the sunset festival.” 

His mom says, “Honey, if we say that to everyone in town, it’s going to get back to the pastor. You know how he feels about the festival.” 

“You know he’s wrong, though! The festival isn’t about worshiping Salakia; it’s named after the sunset for crying out loud!”

“Sammy boy, whether he’s right or wrong, almost all of our customers go to church nowadays. If we don’t all go together, everyone will see us as a broken family. Nobody will buy our fish if we don’t—” 

Sam’s dad gets cut of by the sound of pounding at the door followed by authoritative shouting: “By the Order of King Poteschi the Great, open this door!” His dad quickly rises from the dinner table and crosses to the front door. He starts to open the door, but it gets kicked in, which causes him to stumble and fall to the floor. 

“Dad!” Sam and his mom gasp and rush over to make sure he’s okay, but a heavily armed guard storms inside, escorting three surly looking men dressed in the red and white military garb of Askiri sailors. All four men are proudly displaying a crimson tattoo depicting a mast and yardarm across their chest. The sailors fan out into the home and immediately start making themselves comfortable. The chunkier among them immediately starts eating the food off their dinner plates.

The guard escort looms over Sam and his family, saying, “You have the distinguished honor of quartering three of this kingdom’s finest sailors. You will provide them with food and comfortable hospitality for one week. After such time, they will relieve three sailors who are currently deployed to the fleet. You will also be expected to provide hospitality for the men they are relieving, is that understood?”

“Sir, we barely have enough to feed ourselves, and with the fish in this area getting scared away, we soon won’t be able to do that,” Sam’s dad says as calmly as he can manage while slowly getting back to his feet. “Our home is small, and we don’t have the space to accommodate three more beds. We’ve been good, upstanding citizens, but we simply do not have the means to provide for these men.”

The escort grabs him by the neck and pulls him close. “Are you refusing King Poteschi’s invitation to fulfill your honorable civic duty?”

Sam’s father avoids eye contact with the large soldier, choosing to look at his feet instead. “No, sir. Of course not. It would be our great honor to accept the king’s invitation. May I please ask why this is happening, though? Knowing the reason they are here might help us… better suit our hospitality efforts to their needs.” 

He pushes the father away. “We believe pirate activity in this sector will be increasing soon. Patrols are becoming more frequent, so we need more hands on deck. This is all for your protection.”

Sam’s parents share a concerned glance. His dad says, “I’ve certainly had my share of close calls with pirates. After the stories I’ve heard about how they treat their prisoners… They’re all just gangs of killers and thieves. I’m glad someone is out there keeping us safe.”

“Good.” The escort nods and walks toward the door. “Alright boys, make yourselves at home. Your ship leaves at sunrise one week from today.” 

The chunky sailor, who just finished licking Sam’s plate clean, says, “I’m sure we’ll be quite comfortable.” As the door shuts, the six of them share an uncomfortable moment of silence, then the same sailor belches and says, “Where’s the booze? I know you got some hidden around here somewhere.” 

Sam’s mother clears her throat. “As my husband said, we are upstanding citizens and abide by the laws of the king in this house. You won’t find any contraband within the confines of our home, but can I offer you boys a cup of tea before bed?” Sam ignores their angry and gross responses. Instead, he just lays down in his bed, pulling the blankets over his head and pretending to sleep for the rest of the night. 

His parents wake up a few hours before dawn to get a jump on breakfast that morning. They carefully step around the stretched out sailors and ignore their animalistic snoring. Sam silently joins them in the kitchen and whispers, “So what’s the plan? What are we doing about… you know?” 

His parents share a glance, then his mom says, “We’re going to do our best.” 

“Our best… what?” 

His dad says, “Son, those men may be… unpleasant… but they provide a very important service to our community. Without them patrolling our shores and keeping the sea safe for us to fish in, you and I would be prime targets for pirates. We wouldn’t last a day out there before someone came along with ill-intent.” 

“Dad, they can’t just break into our home and claim it as their own. We have to do something.” 

“No, son. This land belongs to the king, and as servants of the king, the Askiri have every right to it.” 

This is a deeply unsatisfying answer to Sam, and it takes him a minute to respond. “But, dad, Abbraccio is our home. These guys didn’t grow up here like we did. They don’t celebrate the sunset like we do. They don’t… they’re not our people.”

His mom steps in to say, “They may not celebrate the sunset, but they follow the teachings of Sa’ad just like us. The more we see men like them around town, buying our fish, getting to know our congregation, the more they’ll fit into our community. Just give it time, Sammy.” 

Sam sighs and resists the urge to make a snide comment about them only recently having gone to church on a regular basis. “Okay… Can I help with breakfast?”

“Actually,” his father whispers with anticipation, “I’m going to stay home today to help your mom around the house. Do you think you can handle the boat by yourself?” 

“Yes!” Same blurts out. “Of course!” 

His father smiles proudly. “Thank you, Sam. Your mother and I really appreciate it. Just be careful out there, you heard what the soldier said about pirates. Keep close to the Askiri, and you should be fine.” 

“I will, dad.” 

“Good. I want you back here by evening. Don’t worry about the haul; if you get something—great. If you come back empty-handed, that is okay too. Your life is more important than anything, okay?” 

Sam looks at him and smiles. “Okay. I’ll be careful. I love you guys.” 

His mom kisses him on the forehead and says, “We love you, too. You better get going; they’ll be up soon.” Sam agrees, quietly gathering his boating clothes and fishing gear. He says goodbye and closes the door behind him. As butterflies erupt in his stomach from the excitement of getting to take the boat out by himself, he accidentally shuts the door harder than expected, which causes the sailors to awaken and throw a raucous fit. 

Sam guiltily trudges on, walking through the quiet village a few hours before the rest of his friends and family begin waking up. On his way to the docks, he passes by a few suspicious looking patrols but keeps his head down. When he reaches the dockmaster’s kiosk, he tries to adapt his father’s casual manner of greeting. “Mornin’, Jim. I’m taking the ol’ Pike Hopper out—” 

Inside the kiosk, however, he doesn’t find Jim, but a uniformed Askiri member. “You’re heading out by yourself? You can’t be more than thirteen. Where’s your father?” 

“Uh,” Sam stammers for a moment before gathering himself. “I’m actually fourteen, thanks. But, yes, it’s just me. Dad’s busy today.” 

“Hmm…” The dockmaster hims and haws skeptically before saying, “According to the new royal decree, only men of eighteen and older can take a vessel out on their own.” 

“Since when?! I never heard of that.” 

“It’s a new rule. But I suppose I could make an exception… for ten percent of your haul?” 

“Wait, really? You want—” Sam stops himself from expressing his bewilderment and remembers his parents’ words. “...Okay. Ten percent.” 

“Smart kid. Alright, I have you down. Stay clear of the Southern Passage; we have a convoy transiting from Fort Shark today. If you get in their way, they won’t hesitate to use you for target practice. Keep to the north-west fishing grounds and stay in sight of the patrols.”

“Okay… Thanks.” 

Sam quietly nods and marches off to his family boat, which is a small, dirty trawler with a simple gaff rig rocking in the calm water. Giddily stepping aboard, he inhales the salty air and smiles before setting his gear down. He prepares the boat to cast off and inspects every line, every sail, the shipboard compass, and all the other navigational equipment. He runs through everything he can remember of what his dad taught him before a day out at sea. Finally grabbing the paddle, he pulls the bowline off the dock and pushes off, sailing toward the violet horizon. 

Lately, his dad has spent more time inside the cabin working the navigation than handling the lines, and this has given Sam ample opportunity to practice his hands-on sailing skills. So, when the sky takes a turn toward grey, Sam feels perfectly comfortable fighting against the rising winds and choppy waters to stay on course, but the trouble comes when he realizes that he is responsible for charting his own course at the same time. He checks the compass but realizes he took a moment too long when a swell suddenly rocks the boat. The map flies off the table inside the cabin, but Sam has to rush outside to get a steady hold of his rig. Sam realizes that he can either steer the boat or plot a course.

The choice is his to make, and he chooses to fly blind. Not completely blind, though, as he’s been sailing these waters for most of his life. How hard could it be to find his way to a spot he travels to every single day? Taking a deep breath, he finds the wind and struggles against it to guide him toward his normal spot. His father taught him how to sail through choppy waters, and he knows the sky will clear up eventually, but bad weather tends to drive these particular fish deeper under the surface. His father taught to be prepared, though, so he ties a few extra weights to the net, casts it overboard, and secures it to the stern. Before letting the sails get away from him, he takes the con back and starts trolling the area. 

It isn’t long before he starts feeling some resistance from the stern; the net is beginning to fill. He knows it’ll take some time before he has enough for a legitimate haul, but he allows himself to feel proud for a moment. The skies seem to clear up after a few hours, and he decides to pull in the net. If his dad were aboard right now, he would grab Sam by the shoulder and pull him in for a hug, saying, “Son, we’ve earned tonight’s sunset.” Today, he’ll have to settle for delightfully jumping up and down when he opens the net and lets hundreds of rockfish spill onto the deck. 

Readying the net for another throw, he catches a glimpse of a sail cresting the horizon. Red sails. Gold fist. An Askiri vessel is changing course to intercept him. Sam’s stomach drops and he almost feels seasick, then he sees one of the scariest signal flags he can imagine being raised. A black and yellow checkered flag, which indicates that he needs to drop anchor and prepare to be boarded. He paces around the deck for several minutes while trying to calm himself with deep breaths..

“I could run. I could just…” He surveys the sea around him. It’s vast. Unending. There could be anything out there. Anyone. Biting his lip, bad ideas float through his head, but from the cabin, he hears his dad’s voice. He decides to drop anchor.

As the vessel gets nearer to him, Sam gets a clearer look at the ship. It’s a raggedy old brigantine. The hull is battered with damage from years of skirmishes, the sails are old and tattered, and when the crew gets a bit closer, he notices there doesn’t seem to be a uniform amongst them. Sam’s anxiety kicks into high gear while the rugged ship pulls up next to him. A gang of thuggish looking mariners looms over him, watching on with slimy grins. 

Sam hears the authoritative footsteps of the ship’s captain slowly approaching. The burly, bearded captain struts across his ship and leans against the taffrail. He takes a bite of an apple, and without swallowing, he says, “Well, looks like quite the catch, huh, boys?” The crew laughs. It takes a moment for Sam to realize that the captain expects an answer from him.

“Uh, I… I don’t know… What do you mean...” Sam’s voice cracks under the weight of the crew’s gazes upon him.

“I’d like to extend my deepest gratitude for the hard work that you put into catching these fish.” The captain takes another bite of his apple.  

“I’m… I’m sorry?” Sam swallows hard.

“I’m thanking you, boy, for the catch… and the boat. We’ll find a use for it somewhere. The question is… what to do with you?” 

“Um, sir, I… This is my father’s boat. Plus, the dockmaster claimed ten percent of the haul already, so…” 

“Oh, how cute.” The crew lets out another bout of laughter. “Kid, you don’t think the Askiri are getting their hands on this booty, do you?” 

Sam thinks for a moment and realizes what he means, but he can’t quite seem to internalize it. “You’re not in the Askiri Navy, are you?” 

“There’s the smart boy I thought you were! A truly witty boy. Now tell me, what shall we do with you, boy?” 

Trembling in his coveralls, his stomach flops around more than the fish struggling to survive around his feet. “I, uh, I…” 

“You’re so brave and well-spoken, aren’t you? You from Abbraccio, boy?” 

Sam nods his sightly.

“Tell you what, I got just the job for you.” He turns to address his crew. “Ladies! Take him to the brig.” Pirates descend on Sam’s boat. Whether from fear, or from a pistol-whip to the back of the head, Sam blacks out.

***

Drip. Sam shivers deep inside his core. Drip. The air is cold… and wet… He’s lying in an inch of water all around him. Drip. His eyes slowly open. Steel bars extend from the ground in front of him and surround him on all sides. A steady dripping of water falls from the ceiling and ripples around him. The wooden walls creak as the ship sways with the movement of the sea. He pushes himself up, sitting against the steel bars and rubbing his eyes.

Sam looks around from inside a small cage in the cargo hold of a massive ship. There are crates piled high, mildew ridden bolts of cloth against the bulkheads, and a small opening at the other end with a ladder leading up through it. Just outside his prison cell, a plank of wood is lying across a barrel top. Resting next to this plank of wood is a carpenter’s toolkit. 

“They’re all just gangs of killers and thieves.” Sam’s dad would be mortified to know that he’s been taken prisoner aboard a pirate vessel. Worst case scenarios race through his mind: Are they slavers? Rapists? Are they going to ransom me back to the Askiri? Why didn’t they kill me? Are they going torture me? 

His thoughts are cut off by a thud on the deck above him. He has no idea what time it is, and not being able to see the horizon while the ship sways is making him nauseous. I have to get out of here. He reaches through cage bars for the carpenter’s toolkit; he’s not sure what he can do with it, but it’s his best bet. It’s just outside his reach, but if he… could just… He extends his fingers as far as they can go, then he manages to scrape the edge of the kit. Just a little bit more, and maybe… He gets a solid grip of the toolkit. 

When he pulls it inside and opens it up, he finds a hammer, a small hand saw, and a utility knife. His dad taught him to use a utility knife when preparing and handling lines, so he pulls that out and inspects the lock on his cage. Though he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, the cage’s lock is an old, worn out key lock that’s been collecting rust for quite some time. 

Sam slides the knife’s blade into one of the crevices and tries to jostle it open, but no luck. When he tries to pull the blade back out, it gets stuck. He continues to jostle it, but the metal on metal jangling is too loud. Looking at the blade for quite some time, he whispers, “If I can’t take it out… I’ll force it further inside.” He takes the hammer and lines up a shot, then slams it down. 

The knife gets jammed further inside the lock mechanism, and a loud bang echoes around the cargo hold. Sam stops to listen. There’s a few footsteps overhead, but nobody seems to be coming down to check on him. Trying again in one… two… three! He slams the hammer down again, causing a loud crack to burst out. The lock falls to the deck, and his cell door swings open. 

After collecting the utility knife, he slinks behind a crate and makes his way through the cargo hold. He eyes the ladderwell that leads to the next deck up. He’s going to have to be careful, quiet as a mouse if he wants to make it outside. From there… he’ll just have to figure something out.

Sam slowly climbs the ladder, ascending just a single rung at a time until his head crests the threshold. He looks left… nobody. Right… nobody. As he turns to look behind him, however, he hears a slight click. A tall, lanky, blonde man sporting a well-groomed, light beard is casually sitting atop a nearby box. He’s reading a book by the sunlight coming from a porthole in one hand, and cocking back the action on his flintlock pistol in the other. 

“Congratulations. You made it out,” the blonde man says. Oh shit… Sam’s heart leaps into his throat. “So… which tool did you use? The hammer or the saw?”

“Uh…wh-what?” 

“Did you use the hammer or the saw? The saw takes a long time, so you must have used the hammer.” 

“I… uh… used the knife with the hammer. Broke the lock from inside.” 

“Clever. Tell me something, what was your plan?” 

“Escape.” 

“Just… escape? No elaborate method of sneaking around, picking us off one by one?” 

Sam shakes his head. “I was just going to take my boat back.” 

The blonde man smiles. “That is not clever… but it is bold. If I put my gun away, are you going to try any other bold moves?” Sam shakes his head again. “Very well.” The man uncocks his pistol, then stows it on a sheath strapped across his chest. He puts his book down and kneels over the trapdoor that Sam is partially sticking out of. He reaches out with his right hand and says, “My name is Lloyd. It’s nice to meet you.”

Sam stares at the hand without moving. 

“Go on. I won’t try anything. This ship is just crawling with people who have my back. You try anything on me, and it’ll be a death sentence.”

Sam swallows hard. “Okay…” He reaches up to shake Lloyd’s hand. Lloyd helps him out of the ladderwell threshold. 

“What’s your name, bud?” 

“Sam.” 

“Do you still have the knife on you, Sam?” Sam nods shyly. “Smart. You’re surrounded by strangers on a potentially hostile ship. I would do the same thing. Are you going to hurt someone with that knife, Sam?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Lloyd looks down at him. “Let me know if you ever feel the need to use it, and I’ll make sure to get you out of that situation. Alright, Sam?” 

“O…kay…”

“Come on, let me show you around the ship.” Lloyd turns his back on Sam, leading him through the passageways on the ship. He shows Sam the dingy galley on the third deck. The crew berthing area that’s filled with tattered cots. The cow pen where they keep “Old Bessie” safe. Then he takes Sam to the top deck, where he finds a hustling crew buzzing around the ship. Commands are being called from across deck and up into the shrouds. The captain is chewing out a cooper after mishandling a barrel. A carpenter’s mate rushes past them carrying planks of wood for some kind of repair.

“Woah…” Sam says unconsciously as he admires the collective efforts of over a hundred men and women working together. 

“Sailing is a tough life, but when you have a good crew, there’s nothing better.” 

“Everyone’s working so close together.” 

“It’s a big ship, but that just means we can fit more people aboard. There’s not too much elbow room.”

Sam looks up at Lloyd, and curly asks, “Where is my boat?” 

Lloyd leads him astern through the crowd of several dozen people crammed until they reach the rear of the quarterdeck. Then he points to the Pike Hopper being towed in their wake. “It’s safe. We took the fish, of course, but everything else is just as you left it.” 

“Can I take it home?” 

“Of course you can. Just not right now.”

“Why not?” 

“You see… we need your help. And your boat.” 

“My help? What could I possibly help you with?” 

“The captain will want to answer that question himself, but until then, I want you to understand that this boat is still yours. Okay?”

“If you weren’t stealing the boat from me, why did you attack me in the first place?” 

“We were on a scouting mission. We were returning to the rest of our fleet when we found you. The Askiri must have lost you in the weather or something. We couldn’t risk you making it back to shore and blabbing about a ship being where it wasn't supposed to be. We were also looking for a small, nondescript boat such as your own.”

“The rest of your fleet? The pirates have a fleet?” 

Lloyd chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, it’s kind of a new arrangement. We were scouting the Abbraccian waters to keep an eye on Askiri movements.” 

“So the Askiri were right: pirate activity is increasing.” 

Lloyd looks around at the eyes watching them. “Let’s take this discussion somewhere a little more private.” They move down to one of the three gundecks where there are fewer people listening in on them. Sam admires the dozen or so cannons that line the bulkheads. They look so much heavier in person. “Sam, pirate activity has actually massively decreased in the area. We’ve all been out in the Freckle Keys.” 

“Then why would they send so many ships to Abbraccio?”

“Because they’re nervous. They know we’re up to something, they just don’t know what. Or on what magnitude.” 

“And what are you guys up to?” 

Lloyd gives him a critical stare, watching Sam’s reaction carefully when he says, “We’re going to liberate Abbraccio.” 

Sam pauses. “Liberate? Like… free us?” 

“That’s right. We’re going to attack the Askiri and scare them off so they won’t come back.” 

Sam flinches. “That’ll never work. You can’t fight the Askiri. That’s like fighting the king, you-you just can’t. That’s not possible.” 

“Maybe not alone. But we have a lot of people helping us.”

“That doesn't matter. Before the Askiri took over Abbraccio, none of us went to church or recited Sa’ad’s edicts, but when Askiri came in, that’s all people would talk about. It doesn’t matter how many of you there are; the Askiri are a divine army. You can’t find a god.” 

Lloyd smiles down at him. Then he leans against a cannon and says, “Not without you.” 

“Me? I’m a fifteen year old fisherman’s son who’s never left his home island before. I can’t fight against the king’s navy! I can’t fight a god!” 

“Not without us.” 

Sam simply stares at Lloyd. “You’re serious aren’t you?” 

“What do you say? Do you want to help us fight the god-king Poteschi?”

Sam is frozen. A minute passes, but Lloyd doesn’t give an inch. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? Sam pictures his parents’ comfortable home being destroyed and tainted with grime and musk from those Askiri sailors. They must be worried sick about him. He has to go back, but… what would he be going back to? 

“Yes. I want to help.” 

“Perfect. The captain should be ready for you.” 

The two of them return to the top deck and knock on the captain’s cabin door. The captain lets them in, and Sam immediately notices how different the cabin looks compared to the rest of the ship. In a word… Lavish. Bookcases filled with novels, journals, and textbooks that Sam can only dream of comprehending line the walls. There’s a piece of furniture that Sam has never seen before—a liquor cabinet displaying fine bottles of vodka. In the center of the cabin, a table is mounted with a huge map of the archipelago. Every island that makes up the Kingdom of Sylvamente is plotted, along with dozens—hundreds of small markers ostensibly marking the other ships in their fleet.

Lloyd closes the door behind them while the captain finishes up a conversation with a woman who looks like some kind of business person. The captain wordlessly walks over to a bookcase, pulls out a heavy, hardcover journal, and places it on his desk. Sam starts to sweat.. When the captain opens the journal to the first page, he asks, “What’s your name, boy?” 

“Sam… sir.” 

“Can you read, Sam?” 

Sam blushes. “Uh, n-no, sir.” 

“That’s okay. Come take a seat, and I’ll read it aloud.” Sam apprehensively walks over and takes a seat, then the captain begins reading. “Article one: Every man and woman has a vote in affairs of the company; has equal title to the fresh provisions—to include strong liquors—at any time seized, unless a scarcity necessitates a vote upon a retrenchment.” 

Sam quietly listens as the captain reads, intermittently eyeing the woman in the corner of the office, then looking back to Lloyd for reassurance. The captain reads off eleven articles, all of which are written in formal language that Sam would expect to hear only in a governor’s town hall meeting. Most of it flies right over his head, but the few ideas that he does understand strike him amicably. “Do you agree with the above stated articles?” 

“I think so?” 

The captain gives him a critical glare. “We can go over the rules in detail later, but the thing I need to know is this: Sam, do you want to help me overthrow King Poteschi?” 

That’s a big question. “Uh… yes, sir.” 

“Are you willing to cooperate with me and my crew in order to achieve this goal?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Welcome aboard, Sam. My name is Captain Sao.”

Captain Sao extends his hand, and Sam returns the gesture. “It’s nice to meet you… Captain.”

“The first thing you need to learn about this crew is that we trust each other. Whether you and Lloyd become the best of friends or the worst of enemies, you both are expected to have each others’ backs. Do you think you can do that?” 

Seeing a reassuring smile from Lloyd, Sam nods. “Yes, Captain.”

“Good. If you so desire, after the mission, you will be free to stay behind in Abbraccio and keep your father’s boat.”

“Thank you, Captain. What mission is this?”

“We’ll get into that, but first, I need you to sign these articles.” 

“Sign?” Sam blushes again. “I… I can’t write, sir.” 

“That puts you in league with some of my best men.” He flips through dozens of pages filled with names and sloppy signatures, then stops on a partially filled out page with just enough space for one more line. “I’m going to write your name here, then you will take the pen and scribble the best version of a signature that you can manage, understood?” 

As he says it, the captain writes something, then passes the pen over. Sam takes it in hand and tries to copy the other scribbles on the page. 

The captain stands up, extends his hand, and says, “Welcome to the crew, Sam. Now, I’d like to introduce you to the unofficial pirate queen—Mary.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam. If you would join me around the map…”

***

Nearly a week passes aboard the Beggars Burrow while Sam gets trained up on the basics of ship life; a whole new set of emergency protocols, forcing down the slop that he’s fed in the galley, socializing with saltier, gruffer, and older people than he is used to, shooting lessons with the flintlock, cutlass skills, learning how to maintain three masts instead of just the one… It’s a lot to take in, but Sam finds himself picking up the life of a pirate a bit too well for his comfort. 

The nights are hard for him, though. He has trouble sleeping. He can never seem to turn his mind off when he needs to. One evening, while watching the sun slowly fall below the horizon, he hears footsteps approaching from behind, but he doesn’t pay his visitor much mind until a gentle hand rests on his shoulder. 

“Tonight’s the big night. How are you feeling, Sam?” 

Sighing deeply, Sam looks up to see Lloyd and closes his eyes. “We’ll see, I guess, won’t we?” 

A booming voice calls out from overhead in the crow’s nest, “SAILS!” As they hear the call, Sam and Lloyd squint their eyes to see several sets of red sails slowly emerging. Lloyd smiles at him and says, “Captain’s about to call ‘Battle Stations.’ Let’s get in position.” Sam’s nerves instantly catch fire. He looks off the stern of the ship and gains a renewed sense of vigor when he takes in the hundreds of other ships following them into battle.

Lloyd helps him to his feet, and Sam says, “Let’s go home.”