21 Verdict:
The sky was splayed with pinks and oranges as the sun set. Don would have preferred to hide within the safe confines of Crescent Isle's tavern, but he felt he owed it to himself to fully experience potentially his final day alive.
So he had sat at the edge of the floating island by the pond. He buried his bare feet into the sand by the pond's shore and wrote. Letters to Vyse, badly structured poetry for Fina, an apology to Marco, dirty jokes for Brabham; he wrote a small prayer for Khazim, an explanation for Kirala and a recipe for beer baked sardis for Pinta, nothing for Osman.
Most of it had been a waste. Don crumpled another piece of paper and watched it flutter over the edge of the island down into the abyss. Rubbish. It was impossible to include a lifetime of thoughts in a single letter. Only one sheet of paper escaped his angry hands. A note addressed to Urala. A sentence, really. It was the least he could do for her. Of course, they'd have to pry the paper from his cold, dead hands because there was no way he'd have the ability to just give it to the woman.
"Do you mind if I join you?" The kind timbre and highbred accent gave Enrique away immediately.
"Suit yourself, Highness," Don replied. He folded his note up and slipped it into his pocket.
The Emperor colored at the title and sat besides the sailor. "It's a beautiful sunset," he offered.
"Not half bad," Don muttered.
"I noticed that you've avoided everyone all day," Enrique said.
"Just needed some time to myself," Don grunted. "To think some things through."
"Did you reach any conclusions?" Enrique asked.
"Not really," Don admitted. "It's funny, you live your life telling yourself that you're living. I mean, what else could you be doing? But when you really think about it, even that stool that you existed on in Esperanza for years doesn't have a single sign that you've ever been there."
"What happened that made your thoughts so macabre?" Enrique asked. The Emperor pulled his arms around his fine woolen jacket tightly.
"When do you plan on dying, Emperor?" Don asked.
Enrique flinched. "That's not exactly something I intend on planning," he replied. "That's a bit ghastly, Don."
"Don't you think you should?" Don pressed. "Your missus has got a kid on the way, two if that loopy fortune teller knows anything, you really shouldn't be throwing caution to the wind now."
"I'm not," Enrique insisted. "But people die everyday, Don. It's not something that one can plan for. Let me assure you that my family will be well taken care of."
"Look," Don sighed. "I know you're trying to be nice and considerate. You take time away from your missus and come out here to make me feel better, but forget it. I'm not ready for that yet."
Enrique clapped a gloved hand on Don's shoulder. "If that's what you believe, friend, I'll let you be."
"Yeah, let me alone," Don grunted.
As he watched the Valuan ruler retreat, Don almost felt sorry. He flicked a clump of sand off his big toe and collected his boots. Despite the scratching of leftover sand caked on his feet, Don slipped his boots on and pulled the laces tight. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the wary sailor didn't want to be anywhere near the edge of the island past dusk.
"It might be convenient if I just fall off," he grumbled as he shuffled inland.
Lanterns blazed around the fountain at the center of the island brightly, and Don noticed a small gathering. Osman was difficult to miss, the glare of the lantern light that reflected off the woman's yellow dress was blinding. She was agitated, her lips sucked back fretfully into her jowls.
The cluster grew as the doors to the tavern opened. At Fina's urging, Kirala strode over to Osman and the others with Urala slinking quietly after her sister.
Don headed towards Pinta and tapped the small man on the shoulder. Pinta leapt from his spot and clutched his chest as he gathered his wits.
"Captain Don!" he spluttered. "You startled me."
"What's going on here?" Don asked.
"An island meeting of sorts," Pinta explained. "Captain Vyse called for it approximately half an hour ago."
"Sounds like fun," Don muttered.
When the general din hushed, Don knew that could only mean one thing. Vyse the Legend had arrived.
Vyse greeted his crew with his infamous smile, but his eyes were somber. Instead of creating a makeshift lectern and making a spectacle of himself, he ventured into the center of the group and allowed them to form a circle around him.
While Marco curiously pushed his way to the front of the circle, Don was content to hang back. Vyse scratched the back of his head nervously.
"I guess you all want to know why I called this gathering tonight," Vyse began.
He paused while Pinta nodded his head. Fina walked over towards Vyse's side and gave him a questioning glance.
"First and foremost, I'd like to apologize," Vyse announced.
Murmurs rose from the crowd, but their captain continued.
"These past few months have been difficult on everybody, not just me," Vyse said. "But while everyone else managed to go about their daily lives, I let the responsibilities that I shouldered be unattended.
"I'd also like to apologize to Don."
Don cleared his throat uncomfortably as he felt all eyes turn to him. He tried to casually loosen the scarf around his neck.
"Don came to me to confess that in a fit of rage he murdered the Black Pirate, Baltor," Vyse explained. "Baltor had claimed to be responsible for Aika's death. Don later found out that this wasn't the case. I got angry when he wouldn't explain how he knew that Baltor wasn't Aika's killer and said some harsh things. I was ready to do anything it took to get him to talk, but Fina helped me realize that it was his right to remain silent and that I was wrong. So, sorry, Don."
A slight wheeze was the only sign that the air in Don's lungs had suddenly left. Don decided that it had to have been relief, not shock. The sailor was prepared to slouch off into the night when Vyse spoke again.
"My apology doesn't rectify the fact that Don is guilty of a crime, however," Vyse announced. "He needs to be punished and I've thought long on what would be both fitting and just."
Don blanched. He reached into his pocket and reached for his handkerchief nervously. It felt like it was caught on something, so he gave it a strong jerk. His eyes on the expressions of the crowd, Don ignored the slip of paper that the handkerchief hoisted from his pocket and sent flittering to the ground.
"What is this? Don is to be sentenced only? My actions alongside his proved just as deadly. Why should he shoulder all the blame?" The dark, liquid Nasrean accent made Don cringe.
"Khazim!" Don groaned. "Do yourself a favor and shut up."
"And why is this?" Khazim demanded. "My honor is at stake, to not take my share of the blame is despicable."
"Pinta, you talk some sense into him," Don implored.
"I believe that it's his decision to make, Captain Don," Pinta said apologetically.
"My decision had been made," Khazim declared.
"You people are all mad," Don grumbled.
"Enough," Vyse cut in sternly. "If Khazim wants to take responsibility for his actions, I'll grant him that. Khazim, I'll speak with you afterwards to get your version of events."
Khazim nodded triumphantly before he stepped back into the group's mass. Don shook his head as he knotted his fingers into the cloth of his handkerchief.
"Normally, the murder of a fellow air pirate is rewarded with death," Vyse explained. "But I felt that given the circumstances, that was a bit harsh. Baltor was a Black Pirate and Black Pirates have always been the sworn enemies to Blue Rogues. If the situation were reversed, I doubt that they would be having a trial, they'd probably be celebrating.
"Don also was under the impression at the time that he was avenging a fellow Blue Rogue, a worthy cause. But he was mistaken and it was a careless mistake. A mistake that shouldn't be made by one who holds the title of Captain. He was careless with the New Hope, so, he'll lose the New Hope. He was careless with the title of Captain, so he is no longer a captain. Don will be, for all intents and purposes, as he was when we found him in Esperanza."
The murmurs of the crowd signaled that it was over. Don stood frozen for a moment, gap jawed. He was still alive.
"Captain," Don called out.
"Yes?" Vyse asked.
"I've got a request for you," Don said.
"What's that?"
"The New Hope. It needs a new captain, doesn't it?" Don replied.
"I guess it does," Vyse answered.
"I think it should go to Marco," Don said.
"Marco?" Vyse grinned. "He's still a little young yet, isn't he?"
"And so were you when you first got your hands on the Delphinus," Don retorted. "You haven't seen what that kid is capable of with a steering wheel in his hands. I'd really consider it if I were you."
"I'll do that," Vyse replied.
"Vyse!" Fina exclaimed. "Someone's trying to dock at Crescent Isle. It looks like the Claudia."
"I wonder what Gilder's up to," Vyse murmured. "I haven't seen him in ages."
Don watched the Silvite girl latch on to her captain's arm as they hurried to the docks. He fought the urge to follow them and instead stood stiffly and watched their forms get devoured by shadow. He wasn't Captain Don anymore, he supposed he wasn't even Blue Rogue Don anymore. The only thing he could safely claim to be was washed-up sailor drunkard Don.
Brabham began to snuff out some of the lanterns surrounding the fountain as the crowd dispersed. Don felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face Marco.
"Who says I want your ship?" Marco demanded.
"And here I thought the correct phrase was 'thank you'," Don replied.
"I don't want anything to do with your ship," Marco decided.
"Kid, didn't you hear Vyse?" Don asked. "It's not my ship. Not anymore. It wasn't the ship's fault, it was mine and if you believe Khazim, his. If we had listened to you or Pinta we wouldn't be in this mess. But you deserve a ship, so why not take that one?"
"I don't want your ship!" Marco snapped.
Don watched the boy stalk off, his lower lip jutting out dangerously.
"Brat," Don muttered.
In the background, Don could swear he heard Kalifa carrying on a conversation with some stray koketa. He shuddered and ignored Brabham's snickers as he trudged over to the tavern. Maybe Urala would have some moonberry tea on the kettle.