"The Road Not Taken" -Robert Frost
Edward Kenway stood at the help of his ship, The Jackdaw, looking out at the vastness that was the West Indies. The smell of sea salt filled his nose and the sea breeze whipped at his sandy colored hair. In some ways, he was very content with where his life was currently. Other ways, not so much.
He had, quite frankly, been hurdled into an unknown part of the world he'd never imagined. After killing Duncan Walpole, and assuming his identity, Edward figured he'd complete some shady job and be on his way. Rather, that shady job catapulted him into an underworld he had no idea existed. But also, Edward found, for the first time, something to truly fight for. He knew very little of who these Templar bastards were, or who these Assassins—the so-called, self-appointed heroes and saviors—were, but he did know he barely trusted either side. He, however, unwittingly threw in his lot with the Assassins. He didn't particularly trust them, but they were the far lesser of 2 evils.
What had been promised to his wife as a 2-year privateering gig turned into a much grander scheme than he could have ever fathomed before. He missed Caroline, his wife, dearly, but this seemed to promise him so much more. Not to mention, the end of the Spanish War meant the end of privateering. Edward, and many others like him, found themselves without a job, money, or anywhere to go. So many found their own ships and crews and took to the seas on their own accords.
Of course, now they had to dodge the British Royal Navy, rather than work alongside it, but Edward didn't give a damn. All that mattered to him was his own neck and his own pocket. Murder ("assassinations"), theft, pickpocketing, lying, cheating, stealing, he wasn't above doing any of that. If it got him where he wanted to go, he had no qualms with any of it.
But what did he want? It was simple, really: wealth, fortune, and a name that indicated a well-recognized gentleman of quality, not the local drunk. Even as a child, his name meant little more than being a shamed, poor child born to poverty with no hope of ever achieving a station. He had been doomed from day one.
But not anymore. Edward Kenway would become a man of means. Even if it meant posing as a part of the mercantile class down the road, fine. He didn't want to be the town drunk anymore.
"Lost in thought are we?" a voice said, breaking Edward's focus. James.
"Aye," Edward said.
"Home, the Missus, or your future fortune?"
"All 3 I suppose."
"For someone wanting to be seen as a threat, you are quite the brooding fellow," James answered.
"I suppose you're right," he answered, "but unlike most of the other men on the seas, I have a deeper motivation than plunder and women…though those things have their place."
Edward smirked at his own last comment. James smiled.
"You have a point," he answered.
James Kidd was the one Assassin that Edward genuinely liked. Like all assassins, James had his reasons for why he joined, but he wasn't some high and mighty, holier than thou type, either. He hadn't let the mission of the Assassins turn him into someone with a sainthood complex. If anything, James just wanted to do the best he could with what he had. Edward could respect that, even if that was still a bit high minded for him.
Not to mention, James was the only one who took the time to explain this guild of freedom fighters. Of course, he didn't have all of the answers, but he happily shared the few answers he did have. It was more than most of these sanctimonious bastards offered, so Edward took it.
"Nothing is true, everything is permitted."
Edward definitely liked the sound of that.
"The lads on deck getting to be a bit much?" Edward asked.
"Aye," James said, "but nothing unforgivable. Just like the quiet of the helm."
"I'm not sure Adé is someone I would describe as quiet," Edward teased. Adéwalé, the former slave-turned-quartermaster barely smiled, but Edward was used to his stony demeanor. After living so many years as a slave, Edward didn't blame him. Hell, he wasn't sure if it were possible for a former slave to be any other way.
"Somber, but not quiet," Adé said, teasing himself. Edward and James chuckled.
"Can't be quiet with a crew like this," Edward said, "but they're good men."
"When they're sober," James added.
"Suppose you're right," Edward answered.
They had decided to come back to Nassau for a spell, and James had hoped aboard for the rare ride on the Jackdaw. The crew was in need of a break before heading off on more important business. Edward wouldn't admit it, but he was even rather fatigued. Their recent weeks at sea had been particularly rough. There had been a hurricane, and general stormy weather. The few hours Edward was able to rest in his cabin were the loneliest he'd have at any given time. He never grew accustomed to sleeping alone, even if his parting from his wife had been less than ideal. He loved and missed her just the same.
In Edward's mind, he did all of this for her. He wanted to be a respectable husband. One she could be proud of.
At the tavern that night, Edward sat at the bar nursing a beer while his men made fools of themselves with the local "dancers." Other patrons jeered the men on as they shoved coins down the front of the girls' dresses. Edward thought back to his days in Bristol. He wouldn't call himself a "reformed" man, but his days of drinking and whoring were behind him. That life had no interest for him anymore. Besides, Edward was a mean drunk. It got him in trouble more often than not. And Edward had enough trouble on his hands as it was.
"Still brooding are we?" James asked, taking a bar stool next to Edward. Edward smiled a bit.
"I suppose," he said.
"Not to worry," James said, "happens to the best of us."
"Assuming that means it happens to you?" Edward replied, that sarcastic smirk appearing again.
"I suppose I am," James quipped in return. Edward laughed.
"I like you, James," he said, "not sure about the rest of your vigilante friends, but you're a good man."
"Suppose that's the closest to a compliment I'll ever get out of you."
"So you had better take it," Edward replied as he took a drink.
"I most definitely do."
Edward and James stayed relatively quiet after that. They chewed at conversation, but nothing with much substance. It finally hit Edward how tired he was, so he opted to pay for a room for the night and sleep on dry land for a change.
As he trudged up to his room and shrugged out of his coat, the insanity of the day subsided. His thought began to clear and they wandered back to the most important part of his life…
Caroline…
Always and forever, Caroline…