Third Life: The Outside Perspective

Yay, lots of Reviews! Nothing I can really reply to, except to tell that one poor soul who hasn't played any of the games to go read some Wikipedia articles and watch some gameplay.

Anyway, philosophy and more on Jake this chapter.

I'm beginning to notice how most of my writing for this story is shifting to conversations instead of action.

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Sailing from Great Inagua

Late September, 1715

"Urgh, we're stuck in a loop," Jake lamented.

He was aboard the Jackdaw with Edward, having left the Running Frenchman at Nassau while he and Kenway sailed together.

"How so, lad?" the scoundrel captain asked.

"Well, your ship sucks, and we need to make her better. To make her better, we need reals and materials, like metal, wood, and cloth, but to raise reals we need to sell goods like rum and sugar, and to plunder bigger gains of rum and sugar, we need stronger guns and armor and bigger storage, but in order to get stronger guns and armor and bigger storage, we need reals and materials. Savvy?"

Edward blinked. "So we're stuck between plundering small ships for whatever wealthy goods they have to make bits of coin, which will take longer, but we can't attack bigger ships for bigger prizes because we don't have the armaments. We're stuck between scraping by, or grinding for muscle in order to score bigger takes."

"Exactly. Schooners won't cause too much grief for us, but their yields are terrible compared to what we need, and brigs, while worth the trouble, will cost a lot of lives and money if we're not careful."

"Your suggestions?" Edward asked.

Jake looked at him. "You're asking me what to do with your ship?"

"I value your input."

"I've already given my input. We need the money from rum and sugar to build up this boat, but we can score bigger sums of the latter if we go for the material first. With better guns, we can head south for the likes of Kingston, and tackle the frigates and man-o'-wars down those parts. See, you're burdened by this thing called choice. It's when a person gets presented with options and they get stuck weighing the pros and cons for so long they stagnate and don't get nowhere."

"The burden of choice," Edward mused. "Did you come up with that yourself?"

"No."

"Who, then?"

"My master."

Edward looked at Jake, and then he looked back to the sea. "I forget you were a slave once."

Jake looked at Adéwalé. "Hey, did you forget I was a slave?"

"How could I possibly forget something like that?"

Jake nudged Edward. "See. Your first mate's a good man."

"Yes, he is." Kenway clapped Adéwalé's shoulder, and the black man nodded.

"Anyway, so what's going to be, Eddie? Rum and sugar, or metal and wood?"

"Hm, well, rum and sugar would fetch us more money, but my cargo hold can't hold more than a few dozen crates of each, so I'd have to spend days plundering small takes to raise maybe a few thousand Reals, but if I go after ships carrying raw materials, I can build up my ship to where she has enough power to handle big ships, like frigates and man-o'-wars…"

"Yes, I literally just finished outlining all of that."

"…right." Edward blinked. "Well, we're still building Nassau up, so we need powerful ships…"

And then all three pirates said at once: "Metal and wood it is."

So, for the whole of the next month, the Jackdaw and her crew were at sea, raiding anything with high yields of materials, while also stocking up on valuables, selling them at various ports scattered about the northern West Indies. Come the middle of October, Edward's brig was outfitted with everything two levels shy of legendary equipment, but even the most hardened of sailors could get tired of the water, which is how the Jackdaw ended up in Havana's port.

"Ah, the Spain away from Spain," Jake said. He hopped over the railing of the Jackdaw…and stumbled into some crates. "Dammit, solid ground."

Edward smirked and disembarked via the plank, and where he tried to hide it, his land legs were having trouble coming back as well. As a matter of fact, the whole crew was having to steady themselves on the stationary ground, the four weeks on the rolling sea having made them all adjusted to the floor moving.

Solid ground was foreign to them now, but they would adapt soon enough.

"Since we're here for a day or two just to let the crew enjoy a woman's touch and some cooked food, why don't we work on improving your virtue a little, Eddie?"

"You mean the Assassin here, Rhona Dinsmore."

"Aye."

Edward shrugged. "Sure. If it means that getting that key, I don't see a problem with it."

Jake's smile was thin. "At least you've got some direction in mind. Worst thing in the world is a man without purpose that just does things."

After giving Adéwalé orders to hold the ship, and telling the crew to be back by morning of tomorrow or they'd be left here in Havana, Edward and Jake traversed the streets of the Spanish city.

"The last time I was here, I was with a man called Stede Bonnet. He was a portly and lively fellow, inclined to unwittingly getting in trouble. He dreamed of piracy, the grand life of a freedom from restrictions."

Jake raised a brow. "You talk as if he's already dead."

"It would not surprise me," Edward confessed. "Bonnet has a good heart, but not too well a head. He's more a merchant than a pirate, and not a man to command the respect of scoundrels and villains."

"He sounds like an idiot to me," Jake said casually. "A pirate's life isn't 'bout being lively and friendly. It's 'bout being dangerous and mean and taking what we want as we want it. By your recollection, this Stede Bonnet is going to bite off more than he can chew the first chance he gets, and he's gonna get hanged."

Edward nodded, somewhat solemn. "That is what I fear, aye."

Jake came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the street. "So you fear for this man's life, but it doesn't sound like you're going to do anything to stop him from dying."

Edward spread his arms. "That's why we founded Nassau, mate. To leave the life of being told what to do, free to pursue what we want, as we want it. If Bonnet wants to be a pirate and sail under his own flag at the cost of his life, that's his exercising of freedom, and who are we to tell him otherwise, when men like us would kill others who would make us submit to them."

Jake exhaled, his eyes gaining that faraway look. "You don't know a damn thing about freedom, Kenway."

For the remainder of the trip to Rhona's bureau, the pirates traveled in silence.

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The most important part of the Rhona mission was the end, when Edward and Jake worked together with the Assassin woman to kill the Templar agent in Havana, a man named Flint. In that strange place where conflict ended and those special individuals could share their final words.

"Would you two like a moment?" Edward asked callously, impatient with the proceedings.

Jake plowed his elbow into Kenway's unsuspecting gut, making the man cough and glare. Jake returned the glare. "Show some respect, man."

"No, it's too late," Rhona said sadly.

The life left Flint's eyes, and the Assassin closed them. She took the key from around his neck and tossed it to Edward.

"His charm's all used up. Let the memory of him be locked away for good."

Edward pocketed the key, and the world faded away to reveal Havana once more…the remaining Spanish soldiers in the area drawing swords and aiming muskets. Rhona fled, emotionally compromised, leaving Edward and Jake to dispatch the opposition. It was a short fight, their skills with dual swords and the soldiers' disposition of waiting for an opening that never came combining nicely to bring the fight to an end.

"Huh," Jake said, putting his swords on his back. "All that excitement and adventure for the day and it's just barely evening."

"We can decide what to do once we leave this area. It's starting to stink."

Up on a roof several meters away from the slaughter, the two pirates discussed the next step.

"We'll set sail come morning," Edward decided. "After that, I think we should head for Cayman Sound, where that other Assassin is at."

"Sounds good to me. Considering we've still got a hefty amount of hours before we ship out again, what are we going to do with our time?"

"Whores?" Edward suggested.

Jake frowned. "I am not about that life."

"Oh, come now. You can't tell me the great Jake Swallow, the most infamous and dangerous pirate of the West Indies, laden with pistols and wit, captain of the monstrous Running Frenchman, is afraid of a little rout in the bed?"

"Afraid of fucking?" Jake deadpanned. "I've dived in dark waters and harpooned whales. You think a woman's body terrifies me?"

"Your hesitance indicates so…unless your aim isn't for women," Edward wiggled his brows suggestively.

Jake nailed the blonde across the jaw and sent him tumbling to the ground two stories below. Edward landed with an "oomph," but was otherwise unharmed beyond the ache in his mouth. Jake's boots crashed down beside the man's head, and Kenway offered a bloody smirk, his gums having been busted.

"Touch a nerve, did I?"

"Do not ever~ insinuate I'm a homosexual again, mate. I'll do more than just hit you."

"Gonna fuck me?"

"With a pistol that I will then proceed to fire. I've always wondered what happens to person when you fire a gun up their ass."

Edward grimaced, and got to his feet. "I don't know, but I doubt it's a pretty sight."

"Agreed. I understand there's a warehouse filled with goods down by the port. Up for a raiding operation?"

"Always."

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The two stood on a roof overlooking the warehouse. It was small, cramped, cluttered, and teeming with Spanish.

Kenway pointed. "There. That bloke has the key. The problem is getting it from him with those soldiers around."

"Well, Edward, in situations like this I find stealth to not be in our benefit, and so choose the other option."

"Which is?"

"Gratuitous violence."

Jake leapt from the roof and charged the two brutes standard guard, and both of them through on his cutlasses. Edward blinked rapidly. "I though I was the only one that could do that…"

He leapt down and joined the fray, running into the thick of things with swords drawn.

Fights like that are tedious to write out, and even more boring to read, sometimes even confusing and difficult to follow, but most everyone here has played the games and know very well what a killstreak looks like, and if you don't, there's plenty of videos on YouTube.

Edward and Jake mowed through the Spanish battalion in less than two minutes, racking up a combined body count of exactly 27 Spaniards. When the last man went down with a slit throat and deep gashes across his front, Jake inhaled and then exhaled. "That was something."

He sheathed his swords and stepped over the bodies until he got to the officer with the key, took said key, and opened up the warehouse to reveal many crates of metal, wood, cloth, rum, and sugar, along with ammunition such as cannonballs, chain-shot, mortars, musket balls, and gunpowder, and a chest filled with a few thousand reals.

Edward whistled. "Quite the prize."

"Yeah, and now we gotta haul it all out to this schooner here, then set sail with the schooner, take it all the way to the Jackdaw, unload all of it, all with the possibility of being caught, which will end with another fight, which isn't so much a problem, so much as just inconvenient. Why did we do this again?"

"You think too much, mate," Edward said.

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It was an arduous process, one that lasted into the early hours of the night, but the task was accomplished. Afterwards, with a brief "Goodnight," Jake vanished below decks and found an unoccupied hammock, and Edward retired to the captain's quarters.

Come morning, Kenway waited two hours after the first rays of the sun were visible before he set sail with what crew he had. Doing a headcount, it appeared that five sailors were missing, but as luck would have, they were the five collectively regarded as the worst onboard, being surly, and loud, and drunk, and vulgar even by a pirate's standard.

The common assumption was that all five had gotten too wasted and were still passed out in some brothel. They'd probably piss off the wrong Spaniard and end up in a gibbet. Suffice to say, those five sailors would not be missed by anyone.

…but Edward was still short five men.

The man writ the situation off as a concern for later, one that would be easily solved.

Edward was sailing around the island that was Cuba, heading down for the Cayman Islands where the Assassin Opia Apito was based, while also avoiding the fort west of Havana. During this voyage, Kenway finally got around to a conversation that he had been wanting to host for a while now.

"Tell me more about these Assassins and Templars."

Jake lounged against the railing at the helm, and a far away grin appeared on his face. "The Assassins and Templars…that's a big barrel, mate. Where do you want to start?"

"The beginning. Who are they really, and what do they want?"

"Who are they really? That's easy: they are self-righteous peoples that are all convinced that what they're doing is the right thing, and what they want, both of them, is peace on earth."

"Peace on earth doesn't sound so grievous."

"Not really, no. Their chosen paths to it is where it gets stupid. The Templars wanna use ancient weapons to make all mankind bow to them, creating a world-wide society of brainless drones that have no free will. They believe that free will, and therefore freedom, are blights upon Earth, and are the root causes behind all conceivable conflicts, so if they remove free will, they'll remove conflict and create peace."

"The Templars would make us slaves," Edward surmised.

"They would make us slaves that couldn't think to rise up and didn't mind being slaves at all."

Kenway already didn't like that, and found himself with a sour taste in his mouth at having helped such people. "And the Assassins?"

"The Assassins are the opposite of the Templars. Where the latter wants peace through subjugation, the former wants peace through freedom. The Assassins make it a point of there's to kill the corrupt and criminal, those who would actively bring harm to others. They want humanity to get along and prosper, using their freedom to better themselves and the world."

Edward tilted his head. "The way you make it out, the Templars are evil and the Assassins are heroes. Why do you hate the both of them?"

"Because, at the end of the day, they're nothing but a bunch of hypocritical murderers. They keep doing what they're doing, have been for centuries, and they're both blind to all the consequences. They bring about war and chaos, death and destruction. They go out of their ways to slaughter one another, doing whatever it takes just to make sure there's one less Assassin in the world, or one less Templar, even if that means blowing up entire towns, or sinking vessels, or burning down whole forests. There are problems in the world, that much everyone can agree with, and the Assassins and Templars are both trying to solve those problems, but they can't see how their actions are making even more problems."

"How so, mate?"

"Look at Havana. You were aiding the Templars, and the Assassins attacked. How many stray bullets hit some civilian? How much damage was caused in the fight? How many lives and livelihoods were ruined? Now take the answers to those questions and apply them to events spanning hundreds of years."

Edward paused as his eyes went to the sky in thought, his mind working out the problem. Then he whistled. "That's a lot, mate."

"Aye. That's why I don't like them. The world got along fine as can be expected before them, and it'll get along fine after them. They're not needed to keep the globe spinning, and they can't get that through their heads."

"So you disagree with them methodically, but what of philosophically? They're shared goals of world peace, is that a bad thing?"

"Hardly," Jake grinned. "They both got great ideas about things. God might have given mankind free will to do with as we pleased, but even you can see we've squandered it. Under the Templars, there'd be no more quarrels between kings that result in the deaths of sailors and soldiers. There'd be no more Africans kidnapped by rival tribes, and sold into slavery. With the Templars in full command, there'd be no more white men and black men, no more royalty and peasant, no more rich and poor, no more captains or powder monkeys. We'd all be equal and unified, completely docile and agreeable. The Templar's way is the way of practicality and logic."

"Sounds more like the way of slaves and masters to me," Adéwalé said, arms crossed and voice heavy.

"Indeed it is," Jake said, "and that's why the Assassins fight them. The boys and girls in the white hoods make it their personal mission to preserve the freedom of mankind against all oppressors, and the otherwise evil. Under them, mankind would do as they pleased, pursuing whatever course they wished, and whenever a course of malice or ill-intent was pursued, the Assassins would be there to kill them. Kind of like God, in a way. Both are like 'Kay, you can do whatever you want in life, but if you do something we don't like, we're going to punish you.'"

"Doesn't too fair to me," Edward said.

"That's because you know nothing about freedom, mate."

If eighteenth century sailing ships had breaks on them, Edward would've slammed them through the floor in frustration. "Dammit, lad! You keep saying that I know nothing about freedom, and then you never elaborate! What do I not know about freedom!?"

Jake and Adéwalé caught each other's eye, the two former slaves sharing something through the ether that words couldn't explain.

"You're reckless and irresponsible, Kenway," Jake said, looking out over the sea. "You pursue goals with no end in sight, and you don't think about the consequences. You cause and death and destruction in your wake, and you shrug off all guilt, defending yourself with the notion of freedom like it makes you above reproach and judgement."

"Doesn't it, though?" Edward shot back. "If you're free, you can do all that you like and fancy, and no one and nothing can hold you down or back. No responsibilities, no restrictions, no repercussions."

"Spoken like a true pirate, Kenway."

"And what does that mean, boy?"

Jake didn't answer, but instead kept looking over the sea. "Do you know why I think Nassau will succeed against the kings?"

Edward became frustrated at the dodge of his question, but played along. "Why do you think Nassau will succeed against the kings?"

"Responsibility."

"…what?" the captain blinked.

Jake shrugged. "The people there, the civilians and the pirates, they're depending on you, Kidd, Hornigold, Vane, Thatch and me to look after them. They depend on us to bring in food and clothes, supplies and wares, and protect them from attacks. It's their expectation of us, and our responsibility to live up to that expectation. We're free men, aye, and they're free too, but freedom without responsibility isn't freedom…it's anarchy."

Edward's eyes travelled to his boots, and then he turned to the sea.

The rest of the voyage to Cayman Sound was spent in silence between the three men.

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Edward found the Assassin Opia, and after some bruhaha, eventually killed the Templar Lucia Marquez with Jake's help in killing the Spanish soldiers on Pinos Isle. After the fatal blow, that otherworldly place came about again, where those last words could be shared in private and in peace.

"No!" Lucia rasped. "I cannot die at the hands of the Taíno. My father saw such potential in these islands. Gold...industry...freedom... all of it squandered. You have not a clue how to use it. He could have brought you wealth…"

Opia's response was more passionate. "You think we wasted freedom by living freely!?" Her eyes narrowed and her voice became scornful. "You die a prisoner of your Templar mores."

Edward nudged Jake and gave him a pointed look, like See? I'm not wasting my freedom by living how I please.

Jake gave him a look that was filled with sadness.

A feeling bubbled up in him, but Kenway ignored it and stepped forward. "Here's my prize." He took the key from Marquez's neck, and put in his pocket.

The private world faded, and the dreary day of the Pinos Isle returned.

Opia gave the pirates a curt nod of thanks, and ran off into the jungle.

"See, mate? She has the right idea about living freely."

Jake just sighed. "One of these days Edward, you're gonna learn. I just hope it isn't too late by then."

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As the Jackdaw had yet to acquire strong enough weapons and armor to brave the fleets of frigates and man-o'-wars that teemed in the southern waters—at least, in Jake's expert opinion—Edward decided to sail back north to Nassau, going the same route he followed to get down to the Cayman Islands to avoid entangling with any British or Spanish ships that sought to sink them just because.

However, night was upon the West Indies, and none of the crew felt like trying to sail without the light of the full moon, or the stars. Besides, the cloud cover obscured the sky, so the celestial bodies couldn't have been seen anyway.

The Jackdaw remained docked at Pinos Isle for the night.

Edward retired to his cabin, and Jake found space below decks with the rest of the crew. Sleep didn't come to him, however, for Adéwalé wanted to talk more.

In a quite corner, the two conversed silently out of respect for the crew, with a small candle to provide light.

"Is the goal of the Assassins not the more just cause? The more righteous and noble?"

"No, because the goal of the Assassins is the same goal of the Templar. Only the methods differ."

"Then are the methods of the Assassins not the more just and noble?"

Jake shrugged. "Any Templar will you tell you the methods of the Assassins invite chaos and death, and they're not wrong. A good example is us."

Adéwalé remained silent, waiting for Jake to elaborate, and Jake did so.

"We've spent the past five weeks sinking every ship we came across, be it Spanish or British, just for whatever cargo they had, for our personal benefit. We killed what—a hundred, two hundred men—men with families back home, for no other reason than we wanted what they had. We, as a crew, have slaughtered droves of those otherwise considered innocent. We've ruined countless families. I mean, you stop and think about it, we never left any survivors, and since there's no one to tell of the sinking of the HMS Intrepid, or the Sultana, or the Fearless, and no one to tell what happened to the Santa Clara, Santa Lucia, or Santa Monica…besides us, and no one is going to sail up to a port and be like 'Hey, we sank these ships today, so make sure you get word back to England and Spain.' Those families up there, the ones we destroyed for personal gain, will go the rest of their lives never knowing just what happened to their father, brother, son, cousin, uncle, nephew, grandson, or best friend. Mate, for all intents and purposes, we're monsters. We've taken our freedom, and we're using to plunder and pillage because we can. Under the Templars, that'd never have happened in the first place, but under the Assassins, they'd do something only after the damage has been done."

"…so the Templars are a preemptive force, desiring to end all world-wide conflicts before they can even begin, and the Assassins are a reactionary force, silencing tyrants and other ilk so that good people continue their lives?"

"More or less. I guess the simplest way is to put it like this: Templars think logically and practically, and Assassins think emotionally and passionately."

Adéwalé's eyes were drawn to the table as he took all this in, and then he looked up. "If you did have to pick a side, which would it be?"

In the candlelight, Jake's full features couldn't be seen, but the African-native could feel the deranged grin, and he could see the strange, manic light appear as little beads in the boy's eyes.

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"Aw, Nassau!" Jake sighed relieved. "And my baby!"

"Think you're crew is still around?" Edward asked.

"Course. They wouldn't abandon me just because I've been away for a while."

"Just how powerful is she, your Running Frenchman?"

"She sank the HMS Prince, mate. One of the biggest bitches of the West Indies."

Edward still wasn't convinced of Jake's claim, and the boy gained a wild idea. "How about this then: After we get that Templar's key from here, you and Adéwalé can join me on my ship for a change, and I'll show you firsthand just how good my crew and my ship really are."

"Sounds good to me, lad," Kenway said with arms crossed. "What do you have in mind to display your tremendous naval might?"

Jake's grin almost scared Edward.

"The sister ships that patrol the eastern-most part of this map: the HMS Fearless and Royal Sovereign."

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Is Jake wrong about the Assassins and Templars?

Am I nailing Edward's character, or is he too much?

Did you guys know we hit 1k followers, making this the first story to do so?

Were you expecting an update this quick?

I certainly wasn't, but it's my birthday today, 10/24/2018, and this is my present to y'all, so happy birthday from me!

Also, food for thought: based on his ideology, is Shin'en a Templar?

Fav, Follow, and Review please!