Chapter 11: The Battle of Skull Island

The Supreme Commander of the clockwork Armada – Prima Militus herself – stood at the helm of the flagship of her fleet, the Decimator – with each and every soldier aboard the numerous ships behind looking to her for orders, looking to her for their next command.

At last, at last, she would give it to them, this command –

The same one that she had been given before her capture, before the fall of the Lord Kane himself.

Prima now looked upon the island, blanketed by darkness save for a few scattered specks of light – likely the lanterns that the pirates placed in their windows or by their doorways.

How peaceful it looked – almost how the once – populous civilian areas of Valencia seemed in her earlier years of function.

Most of them had not harmed a single clockwork, yes, that was indeed true – and most of them had no true reason to fight against the clockwork Armada, they held no real hatred – it had merely been pounded into their brains from so early on that the clockwork Armada was a force of evil.

And therein laid the problem.

Being a clockwork, Prima would know better than ever of how something so strongly engrained in one's process of thought was irreversible.

Most of them are innocent.

But all of them were imperfect –

Imperfect beings standing in the way of the Grand Design.

That was simply that.

Unsheathing her ornate, decorated sword, the Supreme Commander thrust it forwards, pointing the tip directly towards the sleeping island.

"Obliterate the pirate haven!"

And with a mighty groan, the Decimator surged forwards along with its enormous fleet, each ship's cannons at the ready and their clockwork crews on alert.

As they neared the island, some of the pirate scouts had noticed them, no doubt – but it would be of no hindrance to her plan.

"Fire!"

And Skull Island was bombarded by cannons, by catapults, setting roofs and buildings aflame as the air became filled with the smoke of the growing inferno and the screams of the wounded and dying –

Perhaps Prima would have smiled if emotions had been more embedded into her programming – they had not even set foot upon the island yet - and so everything was going according to plan.

Glancing backwards, the Supreme Commander's gaze lingered once upon the two ships flanking the Decimator – the ships carrying the Black and White Cadres, the two specialized squadrons.

The last time she had been here, it had been an enormous failure – it had been the reason that the Lord Kane had been incapacitated, rendered as good as terminated; it had been the reason that everything had been plunged into complete chaos.

This reattempt would be successful – of that, the Supreme Commander was certain.

As her fleet drew closer, the flames only grew and spread, as did the almost overwhelming shrieks of panic and terror –

She was close enough to see their faces.

They had chosen to enter from the back of the island, yes – but as of now, the docks were already set aflame by the cannons of the ten ships that had been assigned to circle around the island and block the main pathway of escape, the rest of Prima's enormous fleet now dispersing to form a full circle around the island, effectively severing the bridge that connected Avery's court with Skull Mountain and cutting off any and all means of escape by ship.

Of course, there was always the chance that some had fled earlier, if they had the good fortune of possessing keen eyes – but such numbers were small, Prima knew, and they would not matter, not if one looked at the big picture, as the humans would have said.

With the island now surrounded, the clockworks of these crews rushed to drop the gangplanks that would unleash a flood of their soldiers upon the island – even though Prima had designed this plan so that half of the crew of each ship would stay to man the cannons, to continue to rain shells and cannonballs upon the island even as the remaining survivors were slaughtered by blade and by musket.

Gripping the handle of her ornate sword ever more tightly, Prima had been the one to lead the charge.

Their Commander, their leader – and the rest of the clockworks had followed, falling into perfect formation behind her as she led them onwards, clad in black and gold, just as the Lord Kane had been –

Although, unlike Kane, Prima would finish the job – she was sure of it.

"Forwards!"

And the bloody battle erupted.

All at once, pirates seemed to surge out from everywhere – the streets, the alleyways, half-dead trainees with smoldering weapons having just emerged from the burning ruins of what had been their residences – but Prima was prepared.

Such was all part of the plan.

"Target the trainers, they'll be among them!"

Even in this chaos, Prima's soaring voice still carried over the noise – her message clear to all under her command, and she knew that they would be successful.

If there was truly one positive attribute that Prima had noticed regarding the pirates of Skull Island, it was their die-hard attitude, as one might put it – or their perseverance, perhaps, in how they absolutely refused to surrender, to how they fought to their last man.

This would only mean that, as risky as it was, in a scenario such as this even when Prima's clockworks had them hopelessly outnumbered, the trainers would be among the fray, defending their island, their students and trainees, until they could no longer.

Perhaps such is indeed honorable.

Nevertheless, this task would be left to her overwhelming number of supremely skilled soldiers – for she had a much more important mission, and that was to cut off the head of the snake. Naturally, her target was none other than Captain Horace Avery herself.

Not letting a single second pass her by, Prima sharply turned and sprinted for the manor of the Captain Avery himself – if her calculations were correct, and he truly was as massive of a coward as he had been in the past, this was where she would find him.

He had barricaded the front door indeed, but this weak attempt at defense was quickly demolished by three shots from the autocannons of the two dragoons that had followed her, blasting the door to mere splinters, splinters and rubble that she simply stepped over as the small squadron that had followed her remained behind, behind to fend off any of the pirates that would fling themselves to their death in an attempt to prevent the murder of their ironically beloved Captain.

Unsurprisingly, Avery was within the manor, just as she had expected – but unlike what Prima had predicted, he had been waiting for her.

"Going for the head of the beast, are ye now, Commodore?"

The brown-wigged pirate was standing directly in the middle of the room, his stance oozing nothing but confidence and a rather large sword clutched in his hand – the point of which was aimed directly at Prima's chest.

Prima had stared directly back at him with her same iron, unyielding gaze.

"The title is Commander."

And she lunged herself at him with more fury than she had ever thought herself capable of, raining strikes and sweeps at him mercilessly with her own razor-sharp blade, barely giving Avery, who was indeed a skilled swordsman himself, enough time to react as he attempted to fend her off, the fear and shock evident in his eyes –

"Captain - !"

"She's going to kill him, help him - !"

As expected, some of the pirates, some of Avery's loyal soldiers had attempted to leap to his aid – only to become impaled upon the halberds of the marines and the greatswords of the dragoons, only to be shot down by the snipers from miles away.

She would not have any interference – this was how it was to be, one Commander felling another.

Avery was indeed clever, Prima would admit, and she had come rather close to having her own throat sliced when he had leaped upon his desk and fought her from a much higher standpoint, only for Prima to nearly detach his feet from underneath him and forcing him back onto level ground.

"You and your forces are to be exterminated by my hand, pirate - !"

"You're crazy – "

Prima dodged a strike before slicing brutally at Avery's side, successfully carving open a gash upon his abdomen and spilling his own blood upon him –

"Your days are at an end, Avery."

"My end won't be brought by you, DEMON BITCH!"

Avery nearly flung himself upon her with more fervor than she had ever seen in a human being, despite his weakening condition and the blood pouring out of his wound – and Prima knew what this was.

It was desperation, it was a human, a mortal human desperately clinging onto his last shreds of hope, of life.

Of life that would, no doubt, be ended soon.

Sparks flying between the blades as more pirates now rushed upon the Armada blockade before the front door of the manor, filling the air with their screams, their attempts to warn Avery of her unrelenting advance, Prima parried his strikes expertly, as his aim was wavering, his strength was wavering.

He had fought valiantly indeed – but this would be his last battle, she knew.

It was time to finish this.

Surging forwards, Prima blocked his blade with her own and thrust out a heeled foot, kicking him once, squarely in the chest. It was all too easy to knock him over onto his back, and the Supreme Commander now stood over him, her bloodstained blade pointed directly at his throat.

"You…you may have finished me…but you'll never…you'll NEVER take the island…! My pirates will fight…they'll fight for their freedom…they'll never be held down by…by a TYRANT…!"

His breath came in rasping, bloody, horrid gasps, his face nearly ashen from the bloodloss, and Prima rose her own sword high, high above her head.

"I am afraid that they will not have a choice."

After all, the submission of the island was imminent – and Avery's face paled even more, if that was even possible, as he now realized this.

"No…!"

"For the glory of the Armada!"

With a single swing and a sickening slice, the Supreme Commander of the clockwork Armada quite literally cut off the head of the beast – and time seemed to stand still.

Her sword dropped from her gloved, bloodstained hand to the carpeted floor, and the pirates who had been struggling ever so fervently at the doorway froze as they took in the sight –

The sight of their beloved Captain upon the floor, his head now several feet away from his body as blood slowly drained from the stump that had once been his neck.

"Captain..."

"She…she killed – "

"Finish them."

Prima's voice was ever, if not more steady than before – and without a single second's worth of hesitation, the clockworks that had been barricading the door cut down the last of Avery's loyal soldiers.

They had died quietly, still in shock from the death of their leader, wide eyed and paralyzed, just like a doe seconds before she would be shot to death.

And yet, Prima felt nothing – her understanding of emotions was locked down, it was buried deep, for she was the Supreme Commander – the Supreme Commander of an Armada which had just gained a new colony.

It had only taken a few more hours for the rest of her soldiers to end any of the survivors who had been brave – or perhaps stupid – enough to show their face – and those who had willingly surrendered, as there were quite a number of them, had been imprisoned within those buildings that had been left standing.

The imprisonment was only a formality, of course, the Supreme Commander knew – for she would have her perfection, all in due time.

Captain Avery's body had also been cleaned away – Prima had not wished to look upon his decapitated head any longer, for such served no purpose. Rather, she would focus her efforts on slowly converting what had once been known as Avery's court into the fortress, the center of this colony.

"Supreme Commander."

One of the dragoons flanking the doorway saluted as she turned swiftly on her heel, tilting her head slightly towards him in acknowledgement as she adjusted the high, fan-like collar of her coat.

"Captains Servus Albus of the White Cadre and Servus Carbo of the Black Cadre present to report, my Lord."

"Send them in."

Excellent – just as she had planned – for after obtaining the information that they held, further plans could be constructed much more thoroughly.

Side by side, the two Captains had entered, saluting in perfect synchronization just as protocol demanded before stepping closer, now standing before their Commodore-made-Commander.

Such was the position they had so often found themselves in before – standing before Prima, as her loyal and unwavering subordinates.

As was planned, Servus Carbo had spoken first –

"Supreme Commander, the clockwork casualties are one-hundred-and-three – although any remaining resisting pirates have been eradicated."

"Excellent."

As Carbo had spoken, Prima had pushed open the side doors to one of the many balconies, stepping out upon it, her two Captains trailing her, as she now looked over the entirety of the island that had been subdued, that had been conquered so quickly.

Indeed, she certainly could see that her captain's report was accurate.

The entire island seemed to be bathed in blood, with piles and piles of corpses lying everywhere she looked –

And yet, she did not take any pleasure in it.

It was merely a part of the Grand Design, a step in the plan, a step that had to be taken, a task that had to be done.

"Albus…what of the trainers?"

"Terminated as well," the musketeer officer had replied, "all but one."

At this, Prima stiffened.

"All but one, Captain?"

"The witchdoctor known as Madame Vadima has disappeared."

A breeze had blown across the balcony then, and Prima was grateful, for it had lessened the effects of her own rising temperature.

Vadima lives.

This opened up many possibilities, none of which were advantageous for the Armada – however, there was nothing that could be done regarding this situation at the moment, other than upholding the established blockade and strengthening the patrols and security upon the island.

"I see…"

Prima's fingers curled ever more tightly around the railing of the balcony.

"And what of Hunter Chamberlain?"

She could practically feel Albus' shiver for him – and it was likely that his marine counterpart could as well, for he had answered for him.

"Hunter Chamberlain has been reported as having disappeared as well, Commander."

From the helm of the Knave's Voyager, Andrew and Zachary watched Skull Island go up in flames with wide eyes and stopped hearts.

It was indeed lucky that Zachary had heard the noises of the ships of the Armada fleet early on – for no more than ten minutes after they had hastily boarded Andrew's ship and set sail, the docks had been blown to smithereens, along with the ships that had still remained tied to them.

Even from this distance, all the way from the entrance of Corsair's Cove, where many of the other escapees had fled to, they could still hear the horrific screams of the wounded, captured and dying.

And although the both of them had been lucky enough to escape, Andrew could not help but to conclude that it truly was of no use –

That they were as good as dead.

The island had been burned, as he could so plainly see –

And his contraptions, his makeshift laboratory, had been demolished along with it. If anything had survived the flames, it would likely be found and destroyed by the Armada faster than he could even dream of retrieving it.

Without them –

"They might as well have killed us."

Zachary had spat the sentence with a mixture of pure, undiluted anger and hatred, the level of which Andrew had never seen within him –

"Our home is destroyed. Anything valuable we had was inside the apartment – "

"Not necessarily."

"How so?!" Zachary's head shot up instantly at the musketeer's contradiction, as just a few seconds ago, Andrew had been just as pessimistic as Zachary himself was now.

Rather than answering him directly, the musketeer, suddenly having taken on an unexplained burst of energy, leapt up to the helm, pulling what seemed to be a rather badly folded map out of one of his jacket pockets. It was only after the witchdoctor had repeated the question several times, and rather insistently as well, that he finally got his answer.

"We'll set our course to Marleybone."

"Marleybone?! But what's – "

"I've got a cousin there, and he's in some sort of an arms guild."

His own voice was gruff and unrelenting – Zachary did not dare to question him.

Slowly, Andrew guided the Knave's Voyager out of the entrance to the cove, where it had been half-hidden, and into the windlane, sailing now towards Port Regal at full speed ahead.

Behind them, Skull Island continued to burn.