Ch. 1:
USUK
Boom!
A sudden blast hit Arthur's eardrums; he quickly surveyed the deck, trying to find where the damage was. There, the cannon had shot through one of his masts, leaving a gaping hole but Arthur just laughed. Luck was on his side if the person in charge of the Matador's cannons had that bad of an aim.
Far up in the stormy skies flew two airships, one a ship of black and emerald, the Joker, run by the infamous Captain Kirkland and his crew. Right now the Joker faced its red and gold adversary, the Matador, led by the Spaniard Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Antonio was one of Arthur's more determined enemies; the Brit had never been able to blow up that tomato lover. But today was the day.
Sword in hand he raced to the bow, ignoring the call of his first mate Lukas, who was insisting he not do anything stupid. Arthur smirked; the old boy worried too much. At the bow Arthur got a good look at the Matador, it was bulkier than the Joker but that also meant it was slower and that's what Arthur took pride in. He raised his sword up at the ship that was still firing misguided cannons; "On my mark men!" he yelled out and swung his sword down, slicing the damp air, "FIRE!"
With a resounding boom three cannon balls flew through the air and struck the Matador's side, Arthur grinned nastily, "Try and beat that Antonio," he whispered.
Suddenly a strong blast of air hit the ship and tilted the Joker sideways, Arthur quickly grabbed a hold of the railing, hearing his crew yelp in surprise and he prayed they kept their wits about them. Though he noticed with resentment that the strong gust had barely moved the Matador, and despite its now flaming hull it was still sailing finely. Another gust rocked the ship and Arthur let out a curse, spotting what was causing the strong weather: air sprites.
He gritted his teeth at the tiny but strong and mischievous creatures as they fluttered around his ship, laughing cheekily. He turned to look at Lukas who was at the wheel, they locked eyes and Arthur knew his first mate saw these magical little imps as well. They were the only two of the crew who did.
"Get lost," he snapped, swatting at them but they only laughed harder, "Go away!"
A blast made Arthur whirl around, air sprites forgotten, as he saw an enemy cannon ball slamming into his hull and getting lodged there. He looked back at the Matador and saw a lone figure standing at the bow. The person's outfit was similar in appearance to Arthur's, except where Arthur's was black, the stranger's was red. He smirked bitterly, Captain Carriedo. Arthur stood up on the railing, grabbing a handful of netting in case those air sprites were looking for some more mischief.
"How about we settle this like gentlemen, Antonio," he yelled out over the sound of cannon blasts.
He saw the Spaniard lift his hand and the Matador's cannons receded back into the innards of the ship. "Hold your fire men," Arthur called to his crew, "And brace yourselves!"
He nodded to Lukas, who, by his annoyed appearance, knew exactly what Arthur wanted and that it wasn't the best idea. But he started turning the wheel toward the Matador, the red and gold ship doing the same.
"Forgive me, darling," Arthur whispered affectionately to the Joker, "But I will not let this giant excuse of a pirate airship get the best of you."
The ships faced each other, bow to bow, Arthur glared at Antonio who stood perfectly still, and Arthur smiled to himself, his blood boiling as always at the anticipation of a fight. This was in his genetics, he was born to be a pirate, to fight, to plunder, to be free with just his ship and the sky, and he would be a pirate until the end of time.
"Turn on the thrusters," he called out, waving his arm in signal and suddenly the Joker shot forward at an unreal speed, followed quickly by the Matador. Arthur braced himself as the two ships slammed into each other, wood and metal flying and the yells of both crews drowned out by the crash. But all Arthur focused on was the red-clad man in front of him.
"ATTACK," he commanded and jumped from his ship onto the Matador, running toward Antonio with his sword raised.
The man barely had time to counter, raising his sword quickly, metal met metal and sparks flew as the two captains faced each other. Arthur smirked disdainfully at the wary green eyes that were a shade lighter than his own. Along with that and his curly hair Arthur only saw Antonio as a little boy trying to be a man, despite him being as old as Arthur.
"That was a bad move, mi amigo," Antonio hissed, pushing Arthur away and taking a few steps back. His green eyes now hard and threatening but that only excited Arthur, battles were so much more fun when your opponent was prepared to slice you open. He gripped his sword tighter and chuckled darkly, "Is that so lad? Why don't you come over here and make me regret it?"
Antonio's eyes narrowed and they both ignored their crews that were already in a bloody brawl, the two captains always did this when their ships crossed paths. The battles would always begin and end when they chose so. Antonio lifted his sword arm and Arthur did the same, the Spaniard scowled and Arthur smirked. Then in a blur of movement they ran at each other, slicing their swords through the air, trying to reach flesh but only hitting steel.
"You've gotten better, lad," Arthur complimented as the two wove a deadly dance over the deck, the rest of the fighting crews making sure to give them a wide berth.
"You're gotten worse," this time Antonio smirked, "Maybe your old age is getting to you Kirkland?"
Arthur smiled knowingly, "I wouldn't call you young." Arthur nearly got Antonio's neck but the man dodged it just in time, "At least, not in years. But inside you're still just a kid."
"Nothing wrong with that," Antonio shot forward and was able to graze Arthur's leg, blood spraying on the deck, Arthur cursed but his smiled stayed on his face.
"No, nothing wrong with that," he admitted, whirling around and managing to catch Antonio's hip, he felt a wave of satisfaction as the man's white shirt darkened. "Except that children wear their hearts on their sleeves."
The words made Antonio stop for a fraction of a second, giving Arthur enough time to knock the sword out of the Spaniard's hands and drive his sword through his gut.
Antonio let out a hiss of pain and fell to his knees, glaring down at the sword. Arthur's eyes brightened when he saw the necklace hanging from Antonio's neck, the talisman, the one thing that was keeping Antonio from writhing on the ground in his last death throes.
"Because of your childish ways I know your weakness," Arthur whispered and made a grab for the talisman, Antonio quickly yanked the sword out, blood going everywhere, before throwing it at Arthur. He wasn't even trying to stab his enemy; he was only desperate to get away from him which he should be.
But before Arthur could snatch the talisman away from his foe a slicing pain hit his back and he let out a cry, falling to his knees, he looked over his shoulder to see a young boy with dark hair and an unnaturally long curl glaring down at him. The boy could be no older than eighteen and held an axe in his hands, blood dripping from it. Arthur's eyes widened when he realized he had just been stabbed by an axe.
"Get off this ship," the boy growled, despite his harsh tone the boy's eyes shone with fear.
Arthur glared darkly, ready to get up and teach this boy to respect his elders when a gust of wind, stronger than the first two slammed into him, even rocking the Matador. The boy fell to the deck from the force and Antonio quickly crawled over to the boy, still dripping blood from his wound.
"Captain," Lukas's voice yelled out and Arthur turned to see the rest of his crew quickly getting onto the Joker, "Let's go!"
It was then Arthur noticed the thousand of air sprites whirling around both ships, he remembered that the imps hated the sight and smell of blood, and it looked like they would make a twister to get them away.
"Jolly good idea," he muttered, picking himself up and running back to his ship.
"Get us out of here, Lukas," he ordered once he and the rest of the crew were safely onboard. The Matador was already turning away, disappearing into the clouds.
"We're going the opposite way," Lukas decided, heading back to the wheel.
Arthur didn't reply, his back and leg aching and still bleeding, he headed down to his cabin.
The only reason Arthur wasn't dead, the only reason he hadn't died a long time ago, was because of his blood. He came from a long history of wizards, and even though he could not cast any spells he still had magic in his blood, it had made him invincible. It would take a very large wound to make it fatal, all he would have to do is stitch these wounds up and he'd be as good as new. Along with that he was also immortal, or at least he had a very slow ageing process. Almost like his old friend Francis who was actually an Immortal, but where Francis couldn't stand living forever Arthur loved it. He really would be free for the rest of his life.
"My life isn't yours to control," an angry voice came from the cabin door.
Arthur turned to see Lukas, his arms crossed and eyes glaring, "I joined this crew because you were my best chance at finding my brother. I didn't join to follow you around, getting stabbed over and over again just to see if you can survive it."
"I can," Arthur stated, "We both can." Lukas's ancestors were wizards as well.
The man scoffed with disgust, "You have issues, Kirkland. All you ever do is fight and steal; perhaps you could get a more progressive hobby to fill that emptiness inside."
Arthur rolled his eyes as he pulled out his first aid kit, "What makes you think I have a feeling of emptiness?"
Lukas turned to leave, "Because you keep trying to kill yourself…You keep trying to find your death, and if you keep it up, you will." Lukas slammed the door as he left.
Arthur scowled, feeling a bit guilty. Lukas was only angry because they hadn't found his brother, all he knew was that he disappeared from their home years ago. They followed as many leads as they could, and now we're heading to France to check out their latest lead. But despite his concern Lukas didn't need to drag Arthur into it, he simply enjoyed the thrill of danger. He wasn't looking for his death.
Alfred glared down at the dirty wood table of the pub, the raucous and drunk noises surrounding him just making him angrier. Here they were in the Civil War and all he was allowed to do was stay at an old town with a bunch of soldiers who could care less about justice. A year ago when Alfred had turned eighteen he had willingly enlisted into the army, ready to fight to make the United States a better place. But they refused to give them a chance to do anything! And if Alfred stayed in this dirty town that puffed steam and left an acid aftertaste in his mouth, much longer he'd go insane.
"So they were right," a familiar, quiet voice, broke through his thoughts, "You did get into a fight."
Alfred touched the tender bruise on his cheek before glaring up at whom had to be his only friend in the entire army: Matthew Williams.
The main reason Matthew and Alfred had become friends was because they looked so eerily alike; most people seeing them together mistake them for twins. However they had only met a year ago when Matthew came from Canada to help with the war, Alfred sometimes wondered what had made his friend leave home to come and fight but he felt it was too personal a question to ask.
"No need to scold me," Alfred said bitterly, "The lieutenant already did that, thanks."
Matthew sat down next to his friend and called the waitress for a drink, "I heard you got into a fight with four other soldiers."
"I did," Alfred said, "And I beat them to a pulp."
Matthew blew out a breath, "What did they do?"
"They were bullying this colored boy who didn't do anything," Alfred growled, still seeing red form the memory, "They don't even understand why we're fighting this war."
"Not all of us can be pure-hearted heroes like you, Al," Matthew replied quietly, thanking the waitress for his drink.
"Yeah, I guess," Alfred replied, feeling slightly better that Matthew called him a hero, ever since he was little that's the one thing he always wanted to be, somebody's hero.
"I'm not saying what you did was wrong," Matthew said, "But if you're not careful you'll get kicked out of the army or worse."
Alfred nodded, the lieutenant said the exact same thing; he let out a sigh, "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if we could just go see some action, you know?"
"I'd be careful of what I wish for," Matthew warned, watching Alfred with concern, "War isn't a fun little game, Al. Its hell and no one should wish for it."
"I know that," Alfred said, "But I just…I want to help make a difference, any difference!"
"I know how you can make a difference."
Alfred and Matthew looked up to see an unfamiliar man; he was dressed sharply with black hair and grey eyes, by his accent he was from France. Alfred wasn't too surprised, this was a port town and airships were always coming in bringing people from all walks of life, but none of them had ever wanted to talk to any soldiers before. He eyed this stranger warily.
"How can we help you, sir," Matthew smiled politely, his eyes also a little wary.
"Well," the man said, sitting down next to them, "I bragged to all my friends back home that I would meet some famous American soldiers, buy them drinks and everything. So, in order for me not to look like a fool no one wants to talk to, can I buy you two some drinks?"
Alfred smile smugly, it was nice for someone to call them famous soldiers when he didn't even know them, but Alfred suspected this man wanted something in return.
Matthew must have come to the same conclusion because he smiled kindly and shook his head, "It's a very kind offer sir, but…how to put this…we aren't interested."
The man seemed confused for a moment, then his eyes widened in realization and he quickly shook his head, "Oh, no, no, you misunderstand me! I simply want to share a drink among friends, nothing more nothing less."
Personally from all the stories Alfred had heard he expected it was best to keep his guard up around Frenchmen like this, but one drink couldn't hurt.
"I guess we can allow it then," Alfred decided, puffing up his chest, "But it'll have to be quick we are very busy, you see."
Matthew only rolled his eyes as the delighted Frenchman jumped up and went to get them drinks. "I don't know if this is the best idea, we don't even know that man."
"I didn't know you when I first saw you but then I took the plunge and got to know you and now I'm the best thing that has ever happened to you," Alfred smiled.
Matthew chuckled softly, "You and your ego are going to get me killed."
The man came back with three drinks, seeming overjoyed that the two would let him buy them drinks; honestly it was a little creepy. But Alfred and Matthew politely took sips of it while the man talked animatedly about his home and job and family. After a while his voice seemed to get quieter and quieter. Then things started getting blurry.
"I think it's time for us to go Mr.…" Alfred realized the man never gave them his name.
"Of course," the man smiled.
Alfred turned to Matthew who looked as sluggish as Alfred felt, he tried standing up but his legs felt like jelly and with sudden worry he realized the bar was almost completely empty, all the soldiers had left.
"Here, let me help you two home," the man offered kindly.
The last thing Alfred remembered were two blurry people walking into the bar before he blacked out.