So, I was nice with chapter - made it nice and short
And so, to make this introduction short as well, I give you....
Revelations
The city was quiet underneath the dawn of the early morning. Smoke from the battle's end was still settling over, passing in between the orange and purple clouds that fluttered over the horizon in a silent migration from side to side across the sky. The wind carried the warm whispers of the morning far - today was going to be warmer than usual, it told you. It wanted to tell you to watch out for a thunderstorm later that night, though it would only last for a few moments. It wanted to tell you to be wary of a shift in the tide, not large enough to throw you off course but large enough to leave you confused for a few moments. And it wanted to tell you that the wind may pick up now and then, and that you should make sure that anything light enough to drift away should secured, but that was not the case for today. No, today was different.
The streets of Cadiz were quieted under the whispers of the wind, expecting that knowledge would flow along them. But, not today - not because the wind had become lazy, nor because it was misinformed. Today was a day where the day itself took a backseat to what it stood for - today, nothing seemed to have as much of an importance as it usually did. Today, nobody would bicker over how increasing tax rates would slowly kill the people of the peninsula. Nobody would bargain over getting that bushel of food for just a coin or two less, or debate over which duke had a better duchess as his pair. Politics, economics, and all those things which we revolve our lives around took a breath for today.
What the people of Cadiz had forgotten in their systematic, bureaucratic lives was that not all the details of life were their necessities. Perhaps their lives had become too important, and too busy to remember that perhaps the occasional recognition of the others around us was more important than a torn lace on one's finest dress. Perhaps the glitter of one's rings had become a much more pressing matter than the glitter in a child's eyes. And perhaps the routes of ships entering and exiting port had become more exciting than first steps or words - but, I digress.
Yes, the people of Cadiz had certainly lost themselves within themselves. Or should I say, in the shadows of their former selves - for the pleasures of life had lost their simplicity, and though that may be related directly to the loss of simplicity in itself, why would one want to match their pleasures on the same levels as their strains and difficulties?
But at least the people of Cadiz, for today, would return to themselves for this day. They came back this day to clean up the remains of their homes; to clean the blood and the dirt from their wounds; and to carry the bodies of the dead to the sea, as even the cemeteries had been ruined, destroyed, or burned. Perhaps now the husbands who carried their wives would remember to think of them, or perhaps the women who carried their child would remember a nurse can only come as close to a mother as a friend can. And yet, most of them were too late at all.
So perhaps now the men and women of Cadiz will appreciate what they have not from where they are now, but for what they always have had.
Quote:
It is wonderful how much time good people spend fighting the devil. If they would only expend the same amount of energy loving their fellow men, the devil would die in his own tracks of ennui.
Helen Keller
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1
Throbbing was the first sense that returned to Delmaria as he regained consciousness, beating like a miniature heart in his forehead at first. Then, as his senses strengthened, he felt the pain in his leg - or the vague area where his leg felt like it was. It took him a while to realize he was awake, but when he did, he didn't want to - even trying to open his eyes gave him a drilling, pestering pain, as if small weights were strapped to his eyelids.
Eventually, however, he began to open his eyes, slowly so that he could ease out of the blurriness that usually comes after a long sleep. But it was dark still - he was not blind, affirmed by waving his hand in front of his face. But it seemed as though the room that he was in had no light, with dark grey walls enclosing on no light or sound. Slowly Delmaria sat up, rubbing his eyes to confirm that they were not fooling him.
But they were correct - and he was not sitting up on a bed, but a wooden table, carvings and marks cutting all over it. It had designs and symbols dug in to it roughly, mainly crosses and other religious symbols. He had a few splinters sticking in to his skin, which he easily pulled out before investigating the small stone room.
It was only after removing the final piece of wood from his body did he realize that the wall to his back was not a stone wall, consisting of heavy, stoic bricks like the other three walls, but instead a wall of steel bars. He turned to look at them, rusted and cracked, giving away to a hallway much better lit. It was a wide yet short hallway, cutting to the left and around the corner. Torches on both sides of the hallway sat next to two cells roughly like that of Delmaria's, one on either side, though he judged by the silence that they were vacant. At the end of the short hallway, before the turn, there was a little cut in where stacks of crates and boxes sat. They had black writing on the side of them, though Delmaria could not see because of the dim orange light the fires provided.
It was after a few minutes of silence did Delmaria finally hear something. Around the corner of the hallway came the patter of light footsteps, tapping along the dingy cobblestone. Delmaria waited anxiously to see who was coming, but seeing as how it sounded far off, he took a few moments to study his room. It was blank still, except for a strange sight - despite being in a jail cell, his sword and pistol sat quietly in the corner, polished and with a bag of ammunition sitting quietly below them. He scratched his head in confusement as he stepped off the table to go gather his things, when he felt something wrapped tightly around his leg, which still pained him. He lifted his pant leg, leaning his backside up on the edge of the table, and saw that a fresh linen bandage was wrapped around where the wound was supposed to be, obviously coated in some sort of heavy liquid.
It was by this time he heard the patter of footsteps turn down towards him, so he wobbled around to see who was coming. It was one of those cloaked figures yet again, a brown, leather coat hanging down their body, with a hood tucked over their head, shading their face. In between the cloak, on the body, was what looked like a long, light purple vest, with elegant golden lining.
The figure came right up to the bars of the cell, lifting their head of a little just to look up and down Delmaria. Expecting a deep, mysterious man's voice, he was instead met with a kind, lightly accented voice. "Good, you're awake." it sighed in relief. The figure lifted up its hood, revealing a woman, somewhere in her late twenties. Her brown eyes smiled at Darkskull as he reached over to the side of the cell, a key in hand, leaning towards the lock of the steel door. It creaked and clanked as the keys turned within, slowly opening the old, rusted door.
Delmaria watched confused as she stepped back from the cell, waiting for him to respond. She gave off the same weary aurora as did Teague when he first met him, though he assumed that could be a good thing. He began to turn to the back corner to fetch his stuff, when her voice called from behind. "That won't be necessary."
Delmaria turned curiously, now starting to fiercely question her credibility. "And why is that?"
"No need to be rude, Mr. Balnette, but weaponry is strictly forbidden where we are going. I promise none of the shadows will jump at you." She lifted up the sides of her cloak, better revealing what was underneath. Running across a royal purple vest with rich golden branches cutting over and across the torso was an array of sashes and belts, though no weapons were visible. "Just follow me, aye?"
Delmaria shivered. "I'm not a 'Balnette' any more.... but... aye..." He hobbled out of the cell slowly, making sure to keep a safe distance from the woman in question.
He was led back up the small hallway and then around the corner, proving to just be a further extension of a network of similar ends. The cells persisted to be one on either side, and one at the end wall before cutting over either left or right, which often walked the two under a heavy metal gate, its points raised off the ground just high enough so they could walk through without having their scalps impaled. It didn't take Delmaria long to realize he was inside an old, rustic jail, long abandoned, and possibly taken over by whoever had brought him here.
Eventually after hobbling through four or five of these small hallways did they reach a final, small room, a cell on the wall to the right and just before them, with the left wall replaced by a staircase that ascended upward in to a dark abyss. The stairs were at first a strain to the boy's leg, but soon he became in to the motion and developed a pattern that kept his pain to a minimum.
The stairs led them up and around a short distance, before they cut in to a circular room lined on the outer walls with more cells. These, however, were actually occupied - entire crews dressed in uniforms from all nations were penned up, and being prodded through the bars like cattle by laughing guards, taunting and hollering. The floor of the room was metal, with small square holes punched in like a grid to allow view of the dark murky waters that sat below. In the water were rocks - and vaguely, Delmaria could make out the outlines of decomposing bodies.
They walked across to another staircase which held itself against a tall stone wall, running from left to right. As they climbed it, Darkskull took notice of what hung from the towering ceiling - chains suspended small, iron cages where men, either alive or dead, were left to be food for viciously hungry crows. Some of them were still screaming in agony, whether trying to express their fear, or just take their minds off of the pain.
They made a U-turn once they hit the top of the stairs and walked along the high plateau, up a few more small steps before they were led up to another staircase, which led off of the platform, and eerily hugged the wall as it went up to a small door just sitting at the top of the room. The woman pushed Delmaria forward, and slowly he eased his way up the narrow walkway, leaning towards the wall to make sure he would not fall off.
After what seemed like a never ending journey, he reached the small wooden door, not before looking back down to the floor way below. The woman easily stepped in front of him as to not knock him off the little area they had to stand, and pushed the door open, stepping aside as it moved so that Delmaria could enter first.
It revealed to be a small storage room of sorts, the sides lined by chests and crates. The center of the room was occupied by a small, poorly lit table, with a group of men crowding around the sides. When they turned around to look at him, he almost had to look away - their faces were covered in tattoos, jewelry, and all these eccentric pieces that made them seem more gruesome than they did rich.
"Step aside, mates." A voice called from the other side. Delmaria halted. His heart sunk, his stomach emptied, and his body ran cold. He had heard that voice before, and he should have - most people he has known have. His knees began to quake at the very idea, wondering if it was simply his mind playing games with a voice that just sounded similar. But no - his thoughts were confirmed, as it's origin stepped around the table, in to plain view.
"FATHER!" Delmaria yelled, beginning to run towards him. He wanted to embrace his father, knowing the idea that he was alone in the world was gone. He was finally free from this mess - or so it seemed.
He was halted by the points of three blades jutted out in front of him, in a desperate attempt to keep him from approaching his father. Almost instantly, his father turned to the other men. "LOWER YOUR BLADES, YOU DAMN SAVAGES!"
Delmaria was shocked - he had never seen his father talk like this. And it was at this point Delmaria took in his father's appearance. He wore a cut up, torn shirt beneath a very long coat, nearly done to his ankles, where it frayed. It was patched and padded in all sorts of places, and atop his head his hair had nearly turned a dark gray, slimming over a cracked face with a small scar on his cheek. He looked disgusting - he was not who he knew him has.
Adam saw the dismay in his son's face, and sighed. "Son..."
"Wait." Delmaria stuck out his hand. "What is all of this.... You mean to tell me... You've been a PIRATE?... all this time along?"
"It's much more complicated than you think i-"
"YOU'RE the reason why mother is dead! YOU brought this curse upon us! YOU.. YOU..."
"I DID IT SO WE COULD LIVE, DAMN IT. If it wasn't for me, we'd be living off the streets, and your mother damn well knew that! I'm the reason you lived the life you did!" The room fell silent. Delmaria flinched under his father's voice. As his heavy breathing beginning to slow, Adam relaxed, and began to walk back around the table to where he stood, now in sight. "I was going to tell you on our first voyage together, but I never got the chance to. Not like I need to tell you now."
Delmaria sighed. Yelling and fighting would only tear him away from what he had left. "How did you find me?"
"I got word from a few spies in the Navy that after you had turned up, you had somehow gotten abducted by Avaricia's men. Of course, I didn't believe it - so I went hunting for one of his ships off the coast of Portugal, and eventually one of his less-than-loyal captains tipped us off that you had run away with his daughter. I put the pieces of the puzzle together from there."
Delmaria's heart sank. He had completely forgotten about Maria. "His daughter, Maria, do you know what happened to her?" he asked his father, hoping they had rescued her too.
"I can testify to that." a gruff voice called from behind. Delmaria turned, and there in the doorway stood Teague, smoke still ridden on his face from the battle.
"Ah, captain, there you are." Adam said. "I was beginning to wonder where you had gone."
"I assure you, captain," Edward said as he stepped forward, revealing his left arm caught in a sling. "It was fun making a short-noticed journey here to your little fortress with a half-sunken ship." He stepped next to Delmaria, and looked up and down at him. "I'll give you my leg, and you give me your arm, aye?" to which they both chuckled.
"Mr. Teague," Adam called. Both of them looked over, and there, in the man's had, was an old, leather bound book, with the initials "FD" inscribed on the front.
"Aah, there it is. The journal of Sir Francis Drake." Teague walked up to an empty space in the table. Adam slid the book across the table too him, and he picked it up, easily flipping through the pages.
"Mr. Teague, what happened to Maria!?" Delmaria demanded to know.
Without looking over his shoulder, Teague spoke. "Oh, she's fine. She's staying with that noble fellow in Cadiz for now."
Delmaria sighed in relief, calming himself down so much that he could focus on what was at hand. "Why does Avaricia want the journal so bad?"
His father responded to him. "Well, to tell you to truth, the majority of the book is a snooze - most of the treasures and places mentioned have already been found an divulged. There are, however, a few pages written in cryptic text in the back of the book, which seem to hint towards something."
"Perhaps if we had stopped to speak with that translator in Madagascar like I had suggested, we would not be in this situation..." Teague mumbled under his breath. Ensuing was a long, feisty argument back and forth between the two captains, Teague throwing the book down on the table.
Delmaria, however, could not get his mind off of the journal. He knew how badly Avaricia wanted it... maybe, if he handed it over to him, he could live with Maria, and all of his problems would blow over. It was fruitless, but worth a shot.
Delmaria quickly lashed out a hand, grabbing the journal and bounding out of the room. Before the female guard could respond, he was down the stairs, with Teague and Adam in the doorway of the room, watching him run as the guards ran after him. Adam was in awe, but Edward simply chuckled to himself. "You must admit, he takes after you quite well."
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A slow chapter, but at least it got us somewhere!
Please keep those comments coming! I love to hear you all talk as much as I do myself!