"Tryouts?" I shrieked as Lars hushed me. "How can there be tryouts for a privateer?"
The boat had just docked at the harbor in London and a rustle of wind brought me a surprise – maybe not such a surprise after all. It was pamphlet thrown away by somebody who didn't want to become a privateer. I had thought you had to plead with the government to let you be one, and now there were tryouts? It seemed so much easier to be a privateer, yet harder. The small piece of paper looked like a party invitation rather than a privateer tryout. The only reason why there was an audition for something not very graceful to some was because it was popular.
Welcome all future privateers of Her Majesty!
I rolled my eyes at the headline.
Venue The Grand Indoor Arena (1)(A/N: There is no such thing that exists. I made it up)
"It's…tomorrow?" I mumbled.
"Yes. Come one day later and you would have to wait an entire year for the next tryout."
"Jesus Christ. Is there still time to register?"
"Yeah! I can treat you to a carriage ride if you need it!"
Somehow I regretted running away from Antonio. I hopped onto a boat to England impulsively without even finding out anything about the country. If I went anywhere, I would probably never find my way back to the harbor if I failed the tryout. The thought of failing the tryout was felt like a bee sting in the head. How could I stand the indignity of running away and come crawling back because I found out I couldn't survive there? I'd be proving Isabella right, I'd be proving Antonio right for God's sake! Embarrassment plunged into my heart when I thought about how rude I was to Lars earlier and now I had to cling onto him like a parasite.
The carriage ride to the arena was long but not bumpy, yet I was sunken in my seat in front of Lars who couldn't stop chattering about being a privateer. I got more nervous as the carriage neared the venue. I wondered if they'd give failures trips back home. Lars dragged me into the arena's colossal lobby. It was empty and tranquil, and the marble pillars that separated the long velvet couches were taller than the trees in the forests back home. At the end of the lobby, there was a long, marble counter and the ringing and clicking sounds of a typewriter. A short, middle-aged lady with bright pink hair and large red glasses was sitting on a small chair in front of the counter, her fingers synchronizing on the typewriter.
Lars tiptoed to see the receptionist behind the tall counter. I stood far behind him, still amazed by the architecture of the arena. The receptionist looked up and exchanged smiles with Lars. "May I help you?"
"We'd like to register for the privateer tryouts."
"We…?"
Lars pulled me over to the counter. "Her too!"
"Are you two siblings?"
"Nope, we're just friends."
"Well that's good for you. How old are you two?"
"I'm fifteen this year and she's…" Lars glanced at me and I quickly told the receptionist my age.
"Your accents…are you foreigners?"
"Yup! We live in Lisbon, but I'm Dutch!"
The receptionist looked back down at her typewriter and began typing again. "Alright, please fill in these forms and pass them back to me."
Lars took the two thick pieces of paper, handed me one and we started to spill out all our personal particulars. As I finished writing down all the basics – name, age, birthday, a question took me by surprise. They asked for a weapon of choice. There wasn't even a knife present in the options. Did they think the use of a knife was that limited? I crossed out all the options, a straight, thin line of ink prominent on the registration form. Beside the question, I wrote knives and passed up the form. The receptionist took one look at each form and made a call, then led us to our dormitories.
"We have dormitories?"
"Yes. All the participants have a room all to themselves."
Lars looked up. "We can't share rooms?"
"We used to arrange it like that, until a participant was found dead in a bathtub."
"Ouch." I mumbled.
"You can train in the common arena if you'd like, but it's closing quite soon." The receptionist passed me my key to the room next to Lars' after leading him into his room. "That is, if you can find your weapon."
XXX
The common arena was designed just like the lobby, as well as all the other arenas. It had a resting lounge and a training room for every weapon. I was shocked to see a knife room, when the weapon wasn't even included in the form. I didn't wait for Lars. The room had windows made out of frosted glass and I could see the shadow of someone there. Though my resolution was to not trust anybody, I ditched Lars and ran to the knife room to find my fellow knife-thrower.
To my surprise, the knife room was empty. There were twenty metal targets in there, and some used knives on them. It seemed that my bursting into the room must have scared the other participant.
"Hello-o?" I chanted as I picked up the knives that were scattered on the floor. "Hello?"
"Please go out. This room is out of bounds for trainees." I heard a half-broken male voice.
"Who are you? Are you a privateer?"
A boy stepped out of the corner of the room. He was around my age, had dirty blonde messy hair, green eyes and unusually thick eyebrows. I stared at him. Could he possibly be a privateer or was he a trainee like the others? If he was a privateer, what would he be doing in the arena? "Who are you?"
"Hm, it's a bit too early for you to know. That is, when you fail." The boy said smugly, his lips curving into an irksome smirk.
I crossed my arms. "What makes you think I'll fail?"
"And what makes you think you'll succeed? Out of the hundred participants here, there can only be one privateer."
"Whether I fail or not, it's none of your business."
"It is, since you're using my room to train. Give up, girl. A female privateer? Please."
"You'll see." I mumbled as I walked out of the room.
XXX
I took a shower the next morning, something that was never included in my daily morning routine. The shower water was hot and although I knew I was staying in a fancy arena, I still harbored the fear of the water going cold all of a sudden and the lights blacking out, the room plunging into darkness. That happened quite often in my home and despite I could handle it well, I'd still have thoughts of a pirate walking in and violating me then killing me like what they did to my father. Darkness is scary. You don't know when you put your hand in a hole in a tree trunk and you end up without a hand. The words repeated in my head like a tape recorder.
I stepped out of the shower, looking away from the mirror. I hated seeing myself naked. The scars on my skin made me feel imperfect. After drying myself, I wore back the black tank top and black tights I had on yesterday, together with my jacket. When I walked out of my room, the other participants walking past me looked at me and snorted. It was probably because the jacket I was wearing belonged to that of a privateer. There was no breakfast provided as the tryout, or so called test was first thing in the morning. As I was one of the last ones who registered, I got to sleep in and take my own sweet time to the main arena.
Those who had to wait for their turn sat at the arena as spectators, while guests and parents occupied majority of the arena. Parents? Like any parent could stand seeing their children becoming a privateer. When I stepped into the main arena, I was surprised to see it almost empty, with not a single soul on the parents and guests seating area and Lars falling asleep at his seat. How long was I asleep? My pulse immediately increased as nerve built up in me.
"Lars! How long was I asleep?"
Lars hauled his head up to look at me. "Uh…ah…oh hey, Rio. I don't know…when I came in here, the place was half-empty."
"I don't think I'm ready!"
Lars was about to give me a word of encouragement, until his name was called out. The third last participant, a overly muscular man left the room after exchanging eye contact with me. Winning, was harder than I thought. Was the boy in the knife room yesterday right? Was I really going to fail? Time flew past as I kept thinking of what it would like for me if I couldn't become a privateer. It flew past so quickly that I didn't even realize Lars was already out of the arena and they were repetitively calling out my name.
"Rio Juarez Carriedo. This is the last call."
"Here!" I yelled as I made my way down. I didn't notice the judges sitting at the corner seats north of the arena. There were only two judges: A redheaded, drunk privateer and the boy I met yesterday. Shivers went down my spine as I felt his green orbs on me, about to burst out laughing when I made a mistake. The boy finally stopped staring at me and shook the redhead to wake up. He was Niall Kirkland and if I could win, I'd work on his ship as his first mate. I didn't know what the boy's occupation was, but I prayed that he was just another privateer and not someone on Niall Kirkland's ship.
"Aye, so you're Rio Juarez Carriedo?" Niall mouthed, his accent pronouncing my name wrongly. "Knife-thrower, aye?"
I gulped. "Y-yes."
"Aye, the targets are there. Show me what you can do."
I walked over to the rack of knives and randomly picked one. I was too nervous to take note of his sharpness or shape. I clutched the handle of the knife tightly as I heard the boy whispering to Niall Kirkland, as if they were laughing about a teenage girl who dreamt of being a privateer. I felt his eyes on me, my name in his words as my blood boiled. Without thinking, I turned and the knife flew right at the boy, stabbing him in the shoulder. A yelp was heard, followed by Niall's voice.
"Fuck! Arthur, are you alright?"
"Niall, I…" Arthur. That was his name. He gripped the handle of the knife and pulled it out as blood spilled out of the gash in his shoulder.
"I'll get help!" Niall stood up and turned, his thick eyebrows furrowing at me. Two British soldiers ran into the arena and grabbed me. "She threw that shot at Arthur! Take her away! Throw her in jail! Execute her!"
