Untitled chapter
Church bells dong solemnly in the distance as the chains scraped against the stone floor. Each man bound in a way that they can’t ignore, the call of fate. For one lonely soul, however, that was about to change. Simon, the captain of The Devil’s Nightshade and a lowly pirate, was being charged with grand theft from imperial warships and piracy. Both of which were true and factual down to the letter. Normally, he’d be out of these chains and swimming to precious freedom far away, but not this time. This time, half of his crew were either killed or in chains behind him. This time, he had no way out.
Church bells cry out as those chained people step slowly but closer still to their fate. As Simon looks at the light at the end of the hall, he ponders. ‘What could I have done to change things? Anything at all?’ Till suddenly, a gravelly voice worn down with age speaks out from behind him.
“Was it worth it, kid?” An old man he hadn’t realized was there asked him. Simon grumbled in response. He didn’t feel like explaining his situation and why he was there at the moment, but the old man continued nonetheless. “They got me in these for indecent exposure and loitering, hehehe, only one of which is true,” he stated as he stood there only in underpants, “My life's been pretty boring up until I met you sonny! You seem like a real interesting’ fella. Real sea-bound if ya know what I’m sayin’-”.
“For the love of all things old man! I would like just a little silence before I meet a fate I did not wish to have!’ Simon yells before a guard shoves him to move forward.
“Well, keep in mind what I’m saying to ya, looks like there’s more than what meets the eye under all of that.”
“All of that what?” Simon spoke, but the man was gone, and only the chains remained. Whilst in a state of shock, Simon was shuffled forward to his fate. Stepping out into the light of the clear warm sky cast overhead of the prison’s gallows, he saw the bodies strewn about on a cart just off to the right side. The stench was unbearable as his one eye met all their lifeless pairs, white as snow. He turned away, bile threatening to pour out of his throat onto the cold stone beneath him.
As his march of death moved forward, he looked to his left. There sat the king and queen, as regal as the day they were born. Their skin was as soft as dandelions, their eyes as blue as sapphires with a sort of sadness he couldn’t quite understand. He gazed at the queen, and she gazed back. There was a moment when everything fell away. No bells, no stench, no piercing white sun above, just sapphire blue meeting ashen green.
In the queen’s eyes was a wonder in which Simon had never seen. As she stared at him she clutched something beneath her dress, with either disgust or apathy in her eyes. Simon chuckled and turned away as the chains carried him forward. He could see them clearly now, the gallows. Where the evilest of men pray to the gods for mercy upon their wretched souls. Simon swallowed hard, his end nearly upon him. The ferryman waited across the bay to take him to whatever hell eternity had in-store for him.
Thunk, click, click, CRACK…
The sound of mans mass murdering machine at work. The sound repeating itself over, and over, and over again was sobering. Oh how Simon wished for the blissful state of a drunken stupor at this painfully clear moment. He heard the clicks and clunks of man’s machine till he saw the feet of a guard. He looked up, never having realized his head was hanging down in the first place. The guard grabbed him by his wrists and unlocked his cuffs from the long extension chain that connected him to the rest of his fellow unfortunates.
“Here upon the gallows of their majesties, the king and queen, you! Simon! Captain of the Devil’s Nightshade, have been tried and found guilty of grand theft from imperial warships and the ultimate crime of piracy. Is there anything a disgusting thing such as yourself has to say?”
Simon stared into the announcers mold black eyes before he spits at his feet. The man shrieked like someone had rusted gold. Simon cackled before he was pushed into place in front of the middle spot on the gallows. He was pushed to his knees with a black bag pulled over his head, obscuring his view as the people who were behind him had their charges read aloud before joining him at his side.
The gears beneath him clicked into place as he felt the final thud of knees to wood somewhere on the platform. “You all have been found guilty of crimes against the crown! With these final words of mine, I wish you an eternity somewhere where you may be punished for your sins. With this final decree bestowed upon you by the crown, I officially declare thee-” “Wait!”
Simon jumped at the cry of a woman’s voice. He could hear the muffled voices of confused people, both guards and prisoners alike, as rushed pairs of footsteps got closer to the platform.
“Your majesty, I don’t believe you should be coming up here with these lowly criminals-” he heard the announcer say before he was cut off by the fury within the woman’s voice, “Move or you will join them by sunset.” Simon felt the tension grow before a deeper voice said, “It’s best you listen to her. I’d have no issue finding you a replacement by four o’clock.”
A small “As you wish your majesty,” was spoken before Simon felt footsteps come up the stairs. The sounds of bags being ripped off faces followed by soft no’s filled his ears. Suddenly and ever so slightly violently, his bag was ripped from his face. Once again, sapphire blues met an ashen green. Finally face to face, with the longest silence ever heard within that prison. The queen knelt down in front of Simon, her gaze never leaving him.
“Pirate, speak your name.” she said plainly. In the same manner, he simply responded with, “Simon, your majesty. Sorry I can’t exactly bow at the moment. If I could, I would.”
He watched as she huffed at his response, a slight laugh buried deep within.
“Simon, please bow your head for me. There is something I would like to see.”
Simon was confused at her request, but bowed his head anyway. Whatever might buy him a few more minutes of life. He watched as she moved behind him, the king still standing before him. His formerly pristine white shoes were scratched and dirty from chasing his queen.
Simon felt the queen’s cold hands mess with what could barely be considered a shirt before touching the base of his neck before asking, “Simon, what does the mark here mean to you? Do not lie.”
Simon had to think for a moment, he had a lot of marks on his body. Only one he could think of was the one he barely knew. “If you’re asking about the triangle. I have no idea why it’s there or how I ended up with it, sorry,” Simon said. Seemingly satisfied with that answer, her hands left his body and she moved back into view in front of him. She and the king turned away from him. Heated words were whispered between the two before the king took off one of his many rings and handed it to the queen with a “I hope you’re right about this. I can’t stand for us to be wrong again.”
“Neither can I,’ said the queen before kissing her husband. Facing Simon once again, she fished the object Simon saw her clutch, which felt like hours earlier, out from her dress. It was a small ring attached to a delicate silver chain. Bound within the ring was a small green stone, similar to the bulkier one on the king’s ring.
She slowly brought the rings together before the king placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They nodded to each other before the queen made the rings meet and spoke the incantation, “Find our son.” With those words said, the stones on the ring flew from their bounds of silver and gold and joined together with a spark of a ghostly green light. The now whole stone flew up into the before dropping back down in front of Simon, his once ashen green eye the same color as the stone. Then the light faded from the stone and Simon’s eye before splitting into its former sizes and returning to the rings.
The sadness in the king and queens eyes faded away into tears of joy before enveloping a clueless Simon in a deep hug. They had the guards rush over to Simon to unlock his shackles as the king shouted, “Our son has been returned to us!”
The prison erupted in cheers from the guards and locals who came to watch the spectacle unfold. Simon, still being hugged by the queen, asked her as he was being led away from the platform, “The hells going on?” The queen with a voice filled with so much love responded with, “You’re our son, and it’s time for you to go home.”
Within minutes, Simon was in a plush carriage decorated with the royal crest. Across from him sat a large, orange-bearded man with a flintlock by his side and a tired look on his face. “So, I’ll keep this short. You stay over there and I’ll stay over here, understand?” The man asked curtly. Simon nodded, not wanting to potentially piss off the man before he spoke again, “You’re the child of Corina and Zachariah Reague, and for some reason unknown to me, they have decided that I will be your personal guard for the foreseeable future instead of theirs.”
Again, Simon nodded before deciding to look out the carriage window. Outside he saw hundreds of people cheering as he passed. “Go ahead and wave to them,” the guard said, ”It’s expected of you anyways.” Simon waved at them and the cheers got louder and louder. “Heh, people love acknowledgement. Beckham by the way. Warren Beckham.” Warren said as they passed through a set of marble and iron gates.
The carriage was maneuvered to the front door of a grand palace where Simon was quickly bathed and dressed for his grand appearance with the king and queen on their balcony. They greeted him with warm smiles and hugs before addressing the crowds below and telling them who Simon was as they placed a small crown upon his head.
During all of the ruckus and chaos, Simon had one thought and one thought alone, “What the fuck?”
End
