Chapter 1

Captain Kirkland lazily reclined in his favorite, though quite worm chair in his cabin under the port of his ship, the Moonflower Lorelei, and closed his eyes. Lately they had been making so little progress; he was so incredibly weary. It seemed like there was nothing but simply endless blue, that possibly they would never find what they were searching for. But never would he give up! Never would he lose his determination, never would he stop searching. Since he was small, he dreamt of the moment when he would gloriously sail up to the bright, warm shores of Allaura. The fame. The fortune. The kingdom. The rule. It would all one day be his.

Arthur could hear the sounds of worried footsteps, running back and forth atop the ship. Additionally he would head an occasional shout, but he just dismissed it as his crew acting idiotically as they usually did. Never would he say it, as he tried to be humble among his crew (though it was difficult- they were the most boorish of men) as they were helping him to accomplish his life's dream, but his crew were certainly not the sharpest tools in the shed. They got excited every single time they saw a whale breach, for God sake. They were some of the nicest lads he'd ever known- but smart, definitely not.

Hurriedly, a chipper young chap exploded into the room, nearly falling down the stairs on his way in.

"Come in," Arthur mused sarcastically. The boy quickly apologized. Everyone knew that the captain didn't enjoy interruptions- especially during his alone time in his cabin. Arthur waved his hand in a forget-it-please-continue manner. The boy panted; he had obviously been one of the ones Arthur had previously heard running on the deck.

"There's-" the teen stopped to catch a breath. "There's someone here. He's demanding to talk to you and he won't leave until he sees you." Arthur reclined once more.

"And?" He crossed his legs up on the scuffed oak table that sat before him. The boy looked down, as if withholding information. Arthur was no fool, he could tell when someone was hiding something.

"Peter," he said, addressing the child. "What exactly is going on?" His voice had become menacingly calm, a voice he only used in the direst of situations. The lad was clearly conflicted, obviously trying hard not to upset the captain. The information that he held was powerful, Arthur already knew, and it only continued to pique his interest in the subject.

"I really hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's him." Peter said, averting his gaze. He stared at the floor, the wall, the ceiling, anything to avoid making eye contact with Arthur. "He's here. He's back."

Arthur's eyes widened. He knew exactly to whom the boy was referring. Only he knew. It was him, Alfred F. Jones, a prime competitor for the kingdom and Arthur's top archrival. Alfred's ship, the Amber Waves, always seemed to find its way back to Arthur's, even when they were oceans away. It was as if they were drawn together like the strongest of magnets, fueled by their pure spirit of competition. And hatred. Most of it was hatred.

Before Arthur knew it, he was standing and glaring. Not necessarily at Peter, but at the situation in general.

"Blast…" he quietly swore under his breath. He ran a hand through his hair. "What are his demands this time? Besides speaking with me, that is." He inquired with a drawn out sigh. Peter quickly shook his head.

"He wouldn't tell us anything. He's demanding to see you. He looks really serious this time." Arthur raised an eyebrow. Usually Alfred just floated by to torment Arthur. Peter looked up at Arthur sheepishly and drew in a quick breath. "His crew is boarding." Arthur flew up the stairs and out of his cabin, leaving Peter standing in the dust. Quite literally. They hadn't a maid in forever. Arthur threw the door open with a vengeance and saw him. His enemy. His competitor. The only man that stood in the way of him and Allaura. He stepped forward, his countenance dark and angry, showing that he most certainly did not want to be fooled with this time.

"Alfred." Arthur said. Not a question. Not an exclamation. Just a statement, said as flatly and calmly as possible. Alfred suddenly burst into an ear-to-ear grin, holding his arms open widely.

"Arthur! It's been far too long, has it not?" he asked with an overly showy and unnecessary bow. "I've missed you, you know. Why must you keep competing with me? Why can you not accept your imminent defeat? I will win, you must know this already." Arthur sneered at the other man's words.

"Slag off, Jones. It's mine." He put a foot forward and leaned, glaring. The wind caught his coat and made it ruffle, the crimson catching the light oh so perfectly, "You know it's mine."

Wordlessly, Alfred began walking forward, a straight path to Arthur, who stepped back, and watched. Alfred reached the other man and looked down at him. He was a good bit taller than him, which made him smirk cockily. Without changing his expression, without saying anything, without even breathing, Alfred extended his hand and gave Arthur a good, hard slap in the face.

Surprised, Arthur toppled backwards, falling to the floor and landing in his backside. Alfred stood over him, glaring down.

"Just give up. Give up. You can't defeat me." He declared with a slight chuckle. He tapped a gloved finger to his chin. "Unless…" he said, purposely tauntingly, looking up to the sky innocently. It was meant to anger the other, and it worked. Arthur silently fumed from his place on the ground, his eyes burning holes through Alfred.

"Unless what." Arthur managed through clenched teeth. He dug his nails into his leg, trying to stop himself from snapping and killing Alfred where he stood. Alfred's crew stood behind him, creating a looming dark presence that he felt he couldn't escape. Arthur smiled sadistically.

"You could join me on my ship."