Story || swindle .

[amaryllis]

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Whatever I may have done to deserve the torment
of this life, I couldn’t say. That does not mean I don't
know what I did to deserve far worse in the next.

The Obsidian could sail under the name of a
thousand men, but mine alone will walk beside
it until time itself begins to unravel. Mine will be
the name that haunts the scarlet sails long after
they’re claimed by the sea. For years past and
hundreds to come, I have been and will continue
to be the subject of song; endless tales will be told of
my treachery until the day I fade into myth. Man will
carry my legacy through generations, words laced with
ignorance, for there is one question each failed to ask.

Which of the tainted tales holds the truth?

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[amaryllis]

reserved

 

[amaryllis]

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❝ C H A P T E R O N E

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"Stowaway!"

The gruff voice rang clearly, disrupting the violet dusk that hovered peacefully above the sea. The silhouette of a ship rocked gently on the waves, the last of the dying sunlight enough to set the crimson sails ablaze. The ship Obsidian could be identified by any seafarer for this trait alone, as few that had gotten close enough to see the scarred and bloodstained exterior had lived to tell the tale.

Fear seeped across the ship's deck like dense fog. A man unfamiliar to the crew was dragged harshly up the stairs from below deck by two others following the call. With their iron grips on his arms he hung his head, daring not to lift it for fear of what he may find. His heart pounded mercilessly in his chest and, though pulled back, loose dark blonde strings of hair hung in his face. Though he remained silent, relentless thoughts barraged his mind; he should not have been there.

The captive stared at the boards beneath his feet, straining to hear past the roaring of blood in his ears and his heavy breaths. He knew what he was up against; he'd heard the stories of the ship's hideous, unfeeling captain. Hopefully the weight he carried in his jacket would be enough to buy him not only assistance, but his life.

The captain was called to deck and the crew went silent with anticipation; he did not need to see to feel the tension. A pair of footsteps approached, the slow and daunting sound of boots on wood growing closer.

The man's breath caught in his throat as they stopped and the tip of a cold blade was pressed to his chest.

"Face yer fate, swine."

That voice. The voice that spoke was rough and intimidating, and yet far from what he expected. The confusion that pinched his face, however, was short lived when the blade was dragged upwards until it touched his chin, forcing his head back.

Though hair hung in his face, the stowaway met the ghastly, pale eyes of the infamous captain with a heated glare. Her gaze was just as startling as the tales had lead him to believe, her hair just as red and unkempt, her snarling lips the same shade as freshly spilled blood. Suddenly, in his mind, Captain Scarlet Waters1 was no longer myth.

"Speak," she spat, her words like venom as she pressed the point to the flesh of his throat. "Ye have one chance to give me a damn good reason why yer on me ship or I'll drive this here steel through yer thick skull." She gave him mere seconds before increasing the pressure of her weapon and causing him to wince with pain. A tall, dignified, dark-haired man that stood a short distance behind her dared to smirk. "Yer nothin' but a coward."

"Attendere! Ho qualcosa che vuoi!" The words spilled from his mouth on impulse, though he immediately cursed his nervous tongue.

"Oi, boys!" The captain called out with a sneer tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Must've caught ourselves a dago durin' our visit to Spain!"

Laughter erupted around them. She leaned closer to her victim, eyes flickering about his face as his own dark glare withered away in shame. He was young and afraid, the scruff on his jaw no more than a few days older than the time he'd spent on the ship. The only flaw to be seen was ever so slight evidence of a previous break on the otherwise straight bridge of his nose. This was no sailor- this was barely a man.

"English," she hissed.

"I possess something of great value." He struggled against the point of the blade, a thick Italian accent weighing heavily on his words.

The captain wrinkled her face in distaste and leaned back, though her sword did not falter. "How can I profit?"

The man's brown eyes steadily met her's once more as he swallowed the tremble in his voice. "Gager's Talismans. I heard you have been looking for them."

The fall of the captain's face was precisely the reaction he had been hoping for. Her blade was lowered, only to be aimed at one of the behemoths restraining him. "Go," she barked, gesturing with her sword. They were hesitant to obey, but once she shouted "Go!" in a far more demanding tone, they scattered.

The intruder hardly had time to straighten before the sword was jabbed against his chest, causing him to stagger back a step. The man standing behind the captain did not move, but his eyes widened in surprise.

"Ye know of the talismans?" The captain asked in a cautiously low voice, veil of red curls trembling with the touch of her breath.

The stowaway breathed a humorless laugh. "I know where they are."

Now, the composed man behind the captain stepped up to stand beside her- one of the few figures who was taller than the stowaway himself. "That's impossible. Who are you?" He asked in a low, suspicious voice. Indeed, who was this man that claimed to have knowledge even they had difficulty getting their hands on?

"My name," the stranger began with a hint of a smirk, touching his fingertips to his chest, "is Vincenzo Giovanni Fieri Lorenzo Silvetore Vespasian Nicchi di Tuscana2."

There was a silence following his introduction that made his face fall; perhaps a scoff fluttered through the crew somewhere.

The captain's freckled face seemed somewhat irritated and the man beside her merely raised an eyebrow and folded his hands behind his back. "Assume I do not have time in the day to say such a thing."

Captain Waters smirked and lowered her sword. "No better than a rat if ye ask me," she snickered. "Might as well call 'im that."

He dared to glare at her. "Vin, then," he insisted.

She frowned and sheathed her sword with a sigh, turning to her dark haired companion. "Thorton3," she said briskly, gesturing for him to turn. They murmured amongst each other for a few moments, the conversation growing more heated by the second before the captain raised a hand and they both stopped short. She glanced over her shoulder with a sharp glare. "Rat," she barked in a tone that made Vin jump with a startle. "Follow me."

Though relief flooded him, he wondered if the tone in her voice suggested that she was disappointed she didn't get to spill his blood. He glanced at Thorton- must be her first mate- who narrowed his eyes dangerously as Vin scampered after the captain.

He kept his pace behind her, nervously wringing his hands and attempting to ignore the untrusting stares burning into his back. He was glad to be out of the range of the first mate, for as he examined the captain from the back she was not much more than short legs and a ball of frizzy red curls who barely reached his chin; not even the pluming red feather adorning her hat could exceed his own height. He could hardly believe stories horrid as they were had been spun of such a woman.

Though once they ascended the curved staircase to a balcony just under the helm, the captain paused and turned on a heel, looking back over the deck. "Thorton?" She called casually.

"Aye?" He readily responded.

"Who was on guard in Spain?"

"Anderson, Captain," Thorton answered with unyielding obedience.

Vin cringed, wide eyed as a gunshot beside him split the air. He had not seen the captain pull her weapon, and yet smoke drifted from the pistol in her hand. Head whipping towards the deck, he watched with growing horror as the felled body of a man was lobbed overboard.

Oh. That's where the stories came from.

Vin had not realize he had remained staring until a sharp oi caught his attention. He glanced over to see she'd shoved the door open and they were both immediately greeted by a swirling, stuffy musk. He narrowed his eyes in distaste, but dared not hesitate when Scarlet impatiently gestured him in. Swallowing hard, Vin stepped inside hesitantly, flinching and glancing over his shoulder as the door was shut behind him.

The atmosphere of the rustic deck suddenly seemed bright and pleasant in comparison. Sconces and weapons littered the walls, displayed with an air of pride. Various chests and tables were pressed against the edges of the room, scattered with treasures and jewels and jars of unspeakable things. Carelessly placed candles burning with furious flames melted their wax off edges and onto unfortunately placed objects. An amber glow was cast from a stained glass window that stretched along the far wall, portraying the image of grotesquely twisted tentacles with human bones tangled in their grasp. The window was positioned above a landing two steps higher than the rest of the room, outfitted with nothing but a cluttered desk and a small piano that seemed oddly out of place. Once inside, one's vision was doomed to be clouded by a heavy smoke that smelled of incense and cigars.

It was hardly conceivable that such vastly different worlds could exist with nothing but a door between them.

"Show me your wrists." she demanded suddenly.

Vin looked at her in confusion, struggling to draw a breath in the thick air. "What?"

"Your wrists," she snarled again, stopping before him and gesturing.

Though confused, Vin hastily rolled up the leather cuffs of his faded green jacket, exposing his inner wrists.

Scarlet eyed them carefully, but there was nothing to be found. Her shockingly blue gaze flickered to him once more before she nudged her head to the side and wandered towards the center of the room.

Scarlet approached a table that stretched across the length of the room and was draped with countless maps and charts, tools and candle holders in strange places. Her hat was tossed carelessly upon it, her hair remaining bound by a black bandana and strings of exotic beads dangling beside her face. She snagged a burning cigar from an abalone ashtray, casually placing it between her teeth.

Waving the smoke from in front of his face, he hesitantly followed, unable to restrain a stray cough though managed to quit before it escalated to a violent bout. Scarlet paid no heed and merely pressed her palms to the surface of the table and watched him expectantly. "Talk fast."

Vin looked at her in surprise, then stammered to find words. "I have this," he said, pulling a piece of rolled up parchment from the inside of his coat. He walked forward until he reached the table and spread the thing across it's surface.

Scarlet's lip rose in the beginnings of a scoff, but she paused when something caught her eye. She subconsciously leaned forward, peering at it with cautious intrigue. It was a map, but it was... Impossible. Lashing out, she pulled it closer to her to get a better look. Impossible.

Finger heavy with rings slowly removed the cigar from her teeth as she attempted to search for a logical answer but found none. The black ink upon the page shifted and swirled as if it had been drawn on water rather than a solid surface. "What is this?" She rasped.

"I cannot explain it," Vin insisted. "All I know is it will lead you to the talismans."

"And what is keepin' me from killin' ye and takin' it fer meself?" She hissed.

Vin forced the tremble from his voice and met her glare with ease. "Do you see any markers on it?" She hesitated and glanced down. Though her eyes searched, she found none.

Meanwhile, Vin scanned the table and snatched a dagger that had been embedded in the wood nearby. Pressing his lips together in hesitation, he held his breath as he dragged the blade across the heel of his hand until crimson droplets surfaced.

Scarlet raised her head and opened her mouth to scold his insanity, but only snapped it shut with curiosity when he snagged her raven quill from its inkwell. Brushing the ink off on his trousers and attempting not to think of the stain it'd cause, he rolled the tip in the blood on his hand before hunching over the map.

With a delicate hand, he slowly etched a blood red rune onto the parchment. Once he did so, the symbol continued to be absorbed and appeared black as pitch near an island in the Caribbean Sea.

The dagger and quill clattered to the table and Vin merely looked at Scarlet, smug and expectant.

It took a moment for her to peel her eyes from it. "Am I to assume that is a talisman?" She asked coolly.

"The stone, to be exact," he responded with ease, then lifted a hand to gesture at her. "If you want them all, you cannot kill me. The symbol is different for each."

"Boarding this ship was no mistake," she snarled. In fact, she was still very much put out that such a seemingly ordinary man had made it past her crew at all.

He shrugged. "I do not have the time to waste my life finding them all on my own."

"Where did you get this," she asked, slamming her hand onto the map.

"With respect, that information is hardly necessary, captain."

She bit back a sharp remark and the urge to run him through and instead rolled up the map and tucked it into her own coat.

"What are you-"

"Maybe I can't kill ya," she hummed, cutting off his words. "But that doesn't mean I can't make ye wish I had." She nodded towards the door. "Go on," she urged, snuffing her stub of a cigar into the ashtray.

Vin continued to question his decisions as he slowly turned for the door, acutely aware of the captain's footsteps following close behind. The ornate cast iron handle was cold to the touch and a skeleton key with a gold and red tassel was caught in the keyhole. Curious. Did she ever take it out? Shaking the thought off, he opened the door with a great heave, as they were heavier than expected. He'd hardly taken a step out before Scarlet rushed past him.

"Benny!" She called in a rasping howl, easily descending one of the two curved staircases.

Vin followed at a far slower pace, his attention snagged by a crashing commotion on the other side of the deck. Only moments later, the figure of a young boy- sixteen or so- scampered up the stairs from below deck, ruffling his ashy brown hair and causing a plume of dust to escape it.

"Aye?" He called breathlessly, struggling to straighten as he stumbled onto the deck. His golden brown gaze flickered to Vin approaching behind her and his freckled nose wrinkled with a smirk.

"Yer in charge of the stowaway," Scarlet informed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Make sure he earns his keep."She paused in thought. "And keep him away from me ropes."

Benny gave a ready nod. "Yes, ma'am." She curled her lip at him and his face fell. "I- I mean aye, cap'n," he stammered, eyeing her cautiously as he skirted around her to run up to Vin.

Straightening up, the stick of a boy wiped his hand on the front of his oversized shirt before holding it out to Vin with a smug grin. "Benjamin Huckins4," he introduced.

Vin paused before shaking his hand with an attempted smile. "Uh.. Vince-"

"Stop, mate," Benny laughed, holding his hands up. "I heard yer introduction once, ain't got 'nuf life in me t' sit through it again. Now c'mon."

With a start, the foreign man gave the helm one last glance before following the boy, acutely aware of the pale blue gaze boring into him all the while.

The lighting below deck was a harsh transition from the twilight sky that lit what was above. Lanterns hung from hooks along the ceiling and the taller man learned quickly to duck. He struggled to keep up with the sure-footed boy, briefly losing him around a few corners. At that particular moment, he hadn't the foggiest idea as to what was going on, but compared to the captain and her first mate, the thin boy ahead of him hardly seemed like a threat. If he was told to trail Benny instead of anyone else he'd laid eyes upon, he wouldn't argue.

"I was wonderin' how long ya'd get away with it," Benny called casually over his shoulder, followed by a chuckle."Ain't no one dared t' sneak on 'ere before."

Vin looked at the back of his head curiously. "Scusami?"

"Ack," Benny scoffed with a wave of his hand. "Don't think I didn't notice ya hidin'-" he paused and whipped around to point a grimy finger at him. "But don't go thinkin' I ratted ya out," he insisted before turning back around. "Nah, I was curious to see how long it'd take. I'll admit, ya lasted longer than I expected."

Vin felt a stir of shame in his chest and cleared his throat nervously. He'd lasted less than three days in the cargo hold, unable to decide what to do over the haze of fear.

Before he could defend himself, Benny was once again rushing in the other direction and Vin scrambled to catch up. "Hurry up now! If no 'un catches us sneakin' away, we might get a full five hours of sleep!"

After weaving through the passageways and descending another level or two whilst avoiding being noticed by any other crew member, Vin discovered that Benny did not sleep in the same cabin as the rest of the crew, but rather in the deepest bowels of the ship scattered with haystacks and crates and barrels.

"Don't worry 'bout the rats," Benny said after so generously giving Vin his pick of haystacks. "If they nibble yer arm, it just means they like ya."

As dread and possibly a bit of bile rose in Vin's throat, he wondered for the umpteenth time that week what he had gotten himself into.

--

Firelight danced across the deck as the last of the sun was replaced by shuddering lanterns. Despite the rustic exterior and echoes of chaos that forever lingered, the Obsidian never failed to feel peaceful once night fell. A looming, threatening shadow, but peaceful. None felt this to be truer than the vessel's captain, but peace of mind was far out of reach that night.

A gentle breeze swept across the helm, slicing the tension that lingered from earlier events. It seemed rattling as cannonfire when the patter of footsteps scurried closer.

The attention of both the captain and first mate was captured by the approach of another- a scrawny, crooked man with scraggly black hair. Whether his skin was dark with heritage or grime, no one could be sure. He gripped a deck of cards in his twitching hands as he looked between the expectant gazes of the two, sucking in air through what yellowed teeth he had left as he prepared to speak. "Cap'n," he said urgently. "I must ask ya t' be careful with this 'un- the stowaway- he's what me deck's been tryin' t' say, I'm sure of it."

When he was met only with blank expressions, he looked down at his cards and shuffled through them, all the while muttering madly under his breath until he found the tarot he sought. He held the thing out to the captain, who snatched it and examined the artwork that received more care than it's owner. "The Devil, cap'n," the man hissed, peering at the face of the card. "Tricky bastards, they are. I suggest treatin' 'im as nothin' less than a demon."

Scarlet scoffed and card against the scrawny man's chest, causing him to stumble before taking it and placing it precisely where it had been before. "I'll treat him however I see fit," the captain snapped harshly. "I won't be lettin' a damned deck of cards run me ship." There was a pause before she glanced at the unmoving man. "Scat!" She hissed, causing him to scamper hastily off.

Silence returned for a long moment before Thorton spoke. "It would not be the first time his fortunes have rang true."

"Don't tell me you've started believing what a deck of cards has to say," Scarlet grumbled, eyes cast over the sea before her. Once the other man left them, a smooth English accent had replaced her gravelly growl.

Thorton looked to her and narrowed his dark eyes slightly, shadows cast across his long face. "He's already tricked us once," he said in a low, stern tone. "Tricked his way onto a ship no sane man would even look upon for a second too long."

"He is nothing," Scarlet spat, her grip on the wheel tightening. "He's nothing but foolishly bold; not one trace of experience. A boy!" She argued. "He does not even understand the knowledge he has."

"Fools do not merely stumble across knowledge of the talismans," Thorton countered with a hushed hiss.

"Dumb luck," she answered simply. "He must've been in the wrong place at the right time."

Thorton paused and eyed her for a moment, eyes nearly dark as the night. "What could he possibly have said for you to allow him to live?"

Scarlet hesitated before releasing a hand from the wheel and digging in her coat. She pulled out the parchment and handed it to Thorton. She could feel him grow rigid once it was unrolled.

"This is impossible," he murmured in a low voice.

"Apparently not," she responded coolly. "That symbol there. That is where the stone is. We will not find more than that without him."

Thorton grew dangerously quiet before rolling it back up. "What if they really are-"

"Timothy," she hummed in disappointment.

"But the map-"

"Proves nothing," she snapped.

"Either way," he groaned. "That is far too much power for an ignorant man." He looked at her as he returned the map. "And if he can lead us to all seven?"

A long sigh escaped the captain's nose as she watched the red sails struggle lazily against their bonds. "Then this is the beginning of our story, Thorton," she stated slowly. "This is where it finally starts."

¹

Scarlet Waters
"Delicate in every way but one, the swordplay."

2

Vincenzo Nicchi
"Walking out into the dark, cutting out a different path led by your beating heart."

3

Timothy Thorton
"He sleeps alone, he needs no army where he's headed 'cause he knows that they're just ghosts."

4

Benjamin Huckins
"So far so good, so don't turn back."