Chapter 9:

For the next while, the trio rode their ship across the rough ocean waves, heading east. As Edge Master and Christine attempted to make sense of the compass, Thomas stood at the edge of the boat staring out into the distance, eating an apple.

"Have you figured out what the symbols mean?" asked Christine.

"Mostly," replied Edge Master, as he scribbled on a piece of paper, "The mirrors in the centre rotate thusly to correspond with each hour of daylight."

"How do you know that?"

"The images surrounding the mirrors show the sun at different times. The sun on top, for example, is high noon."

"So, knowing that, can we find the coordinates by rotating the mirror to match the current time?"

"In theory, but there is a slight issue..."

Edge Master showed Christine the symbols he had written on the piece of parchment.

"These coordinates," he began, "Are not written in Ancient Greek, or any known language for that matter. They seem to be hieroglyphs invented by Necrid himself, most likely to throw enemies off."

"Well," said Thomas, taking a bite of his apple, "He sure did an excellent job of that."

"This is hopeless," sighed Christine, "How are we supposed to find Sybaris now?"

"There may be someone who can help us when we arrive in Greece," replied Edge Master, "For now we..."

"What's that?" interrupted Thomas.

In the distance, the trio saw a massive galleon with black sails and an eerie figurehead approaching the trio very quickly.

"I don't like the look of that ship," said Christine.

"Pirates?" asked Thomas.

"We best prepare the lifeboats" said Edge Master, "We would never survive against it."

The hostile ship began to turn around until it was parallel with the trio's boat.

"Jesus!" shouted Thomas, as the ship readied its cannons, "Everybody down!"

The ship began to fire the cannons. One of the cannonballs struck the mast of the ship, causing it to split in two.

"Our ship is too small!" said Christine, "It can't hold much longer!"

"Quickly," shouted Edge Master, "This way!"

Another wave of cannonballs hit the port end of the ship, blowing it off completely. The boat began to sink rapidly, causing various objects on the deck to slide downwards towards the water. With the lifeboat prepared, Edge Master, and Christine gathered their stuff and jumped on board.

"Come on, Thomas!" shouted Christine.

"No!" said Thomas, "The compass! We can't leave without it!"

Thomas spotted the compass rolling down the deck and began to chase after it.

"Thomas," pleaded Christine, "Just forget...AAAH!"

Another cannon fired, obliterating most of the deck. Thomas had managed to grab the compass just before it rolled off the edge, but the last impact sent Thomas flying off the boat. Meanwhile, the lifeboat detached from the ship and fell into the sea, beginning its slow drift away from the wreckage.

"THOMAS!" screamed Christine, "NO! We must go back for him!"

"It's too dangerous!" said Edge Master, "The pirates are too close to the ship. We cannot rescue him now."

"But Thomas..."

"He's gone, Christine. He didn't make it..."

Christine broke down and cried while Edge Master patted her back.

"Oh God!" she screamed, "I'm sorry, Thomas, I'm sorry!"

Christine wiped her tears and hugged Edge Master. The violent waves pushed the life boat far away from the bloody scene. Christine took one last look before turning away and sobbing.


Thomas awoke some time later. He was completely soaked, but otherwise okay. He found himself lying on hard, wooden deck with his blue coat tossed aside. He did not have any of his items on him; he had been stripped of his bag, his gun, and rapier. Thomas sat up and looked around a bit to find he was on board a ship. There was a group of people standing nearby and staring, all gloomy and filthy. Thomas stood up and tried to speak, but instead coughed up a bit of water.

"¡Ola, Señor!" said a deep and raspy voice.

Thomas turned his head to look at the speaker. He was a tall, young man with brown, parted hair and thick mutton chops. He wore a steel breastplate topped with a sleeveless purple overcoat adorned with golden epaulettes. His gauntlets had golden bristles that matched his epaulettes. His trousers were red and green, while his boots were silver. A feathered tricorne rested upon his head.

"Who are you?" Thomas said.

"My name is Cervantes De León," said the man, "Welcome aboard my ship, the Adrian!"

"The Adrian?" asked Thomas, as he observed his surroundings, "So it's true...This is a pirate vessel!"

"Pirate?" said Cervantes, "Ahem, we prefer the term 'Corsair', thank you."

He then approached Thomas, who backed away in fear. The other pirates stood in the background, chuckling.

"W-What do you want from me?" asked Thomas.

"Just rummaging through your stuff," said Cervantes, with a smile.

Thomas turned to look at the sea. The debris from his ship was there. Several pirates in lifeboats were digging through the wreckage.

"No," whispered Thomas, "Christine..."

"You are a damn lucky man to have made it out alive," noted Cervantes, "Doesn't look like your ship has much to offer, though. Shame. Maybe next time, my men will exercise a little more restraint with the cannons, hm?"

Cervantes' men lowered their heads in shame.

"Now what?" asked Thomas, "You're going to kill me?"

"Har, har, har!," laughed Cervantes, "We didn't waste our time dragging your ass up from the water just so we can kill you. No, we need some extra help taking care of this ship. You, my friend, are now a slave of the Adrian!"

"You don't understand," pleaded Thomas, "I need to get somewhere! My friends..."

"I don't care!" snapped Cervantes, drawing a pistol-sword, "You work for us now, comprende? Now, start scrubbing the deck!"

Thomas sighed and made his way over to where a bucket and sponge lay. He picked up the sponge and began using it to clean the deck. In the background, the pirates that had been combing the wreckage returned to the Adrian.

"What did you find?" demanded Cervantes.

"Some old clothing" said one of the pirates, "And this."

He held up Thomas' bag.

"What's inside?" asked Cervantes.

"Some food," replied the pirate, "And this book..."

"Let me see," said Cervantes, as he grabbed the book.

Thomas gasped, for he knew it was Necrid's journal.

"What is this?" snapped Cervantes, as he searched through the pages, "The pages are blank. The ink must have washed off!"

He then tossed the book into the ocean.

"Is the you-know-what there?" he asked.

"No sir," replied the pirate, "We did not find it."

Thomas ignored the pirates and continued scrubbing. He was quite aware of the mess he was in, but all he had on his mind were Edge Master and Christine. He wanted to believe they had escaped, but he needed to be sure they were okay. More importantly, he needed to complete his original mission of finding and destroying Soul Edge...

That's when it hit Thomas; the last thing he remembered before the ship sank was reaching for the compass. If his memory served him well, it was still inside his coat pocket.

"Damn," muttered Thomas.

Thomas' coat was cast aside not far from where he initially awoke. Thomas abandoned his post and snuck his way over to where his coat lay. Just as he was about to grab his coat, Cervantes stomped on it, startling Thomas.

"Well now," chuckled Cervantes, "What have we here? Looking for something?"

Cervantes held up the compass.

"It's a family heirloom," lied Thomas, "I need it back..."

"I rather like it," said Cervantes, as he tossed the compass around in his hand a few times, "I think I'll keep it in my private quarters, heheh. As for you, I think it's time you started working below decks. It's going to be supper soon, and my men are starved!"


Later, after cleaning the decks, a pirate escorted Thomas below below the ship. He also stripped Thomas of his clothes and forced him to wear a pair of dirty old pants and an empty potato sack as a top. As Thomas entered dimly lit room, he saw a small man sitting in a corner peeling potatoes. He was around 30 years old with a scruffy beard and long hair. He wore a similar outfit to Thomas.

"'Lo there," said the man, with an Irish accent, "So you're the new guy, huh? Welcome aboard. This be our job for the next while."

"Um," said Thomas, "Okay..."

"Don't just stand there man," snapped the man, "Siddown!"

Thomas obeyed.

"Me name's Seamus," said the man.

"My name is Thomas," said Thomas, "Thomas Hunter."

"Aye, me step-father was named Thomas."

Thomas picked up a knife and began to peel potatoes.

"Are you from England?" asked Seamus.

"Yes," replied Thomas, "You?"

"From Dublin. T'is one of the most beautiful towns in Europe. You a traveler or somethin'?"

"Forgive me, but I'm not really in a talkative mood right now."

"Aw, come now, boyo. Don't be like that! I've been here 3 years now, and for the first time, I actually have someone to talk to, apart from these blasted dogs!"

"I'm sorry, it's just...Before I ended up here, I was going on my way somewhere with friends. Now, I have no idea where they are or if they're even okay!"

"Join the club. I find the best course of action is to not think about 'em. There ain't much you can do for 'em now, 'cept maybe pray for 'em."

"I can't say I've ever been a religious man...But I sure could use the hope."

"I can teach you some prayers if you'd like. But right now, we got work to do. We wouldn't want ol' Scurvantes makin' us walk the plank, now would we?"

"Ugh, peeling potatoes? Walking planks? That man is a walking cliché!"

Seamus chuckled.

"I know," he said, "An' you know what? I don't even think they'll end up eatin' half of these potatoes. But still, I peel 'em anyways...Oh boy, wait until you see where we sleep!"

Thomas sighed.