All across the Caribbean Sea, they fell into place like raindrops in a pondwater pool of synchronicity. Cutthroats, vandals, and the madmen. Some sailed for their King, some sailed for their own gain. The phantom whisper of a great fleet commanded by no law or morality, led by a fearsome captain and a decrepit crew, the beckon of a greater treasure lurking within the dark hulls of the legion.
Only mere whispers were lent to the existence of Spotted Dick and his fleet, rumors delivered by ragged men slouched in half-drunk stupors at taverns across the sea, but in the world, a whisper alone could lead any enterprising individual to great places if he sailed far enough.
In Kingston, drops fell.
In Havana, drops fell.
In Nassau, drops fell.
In Tulum, drops fell.
All across the world, drops fell.
The air was clouding up with exotic scents, musk of scheming and war-hungry minds.
Havana
A ship flying the flag of the British Empire entered the port in the morning. After a thorough examination, the guest of honor departed his vessel, on the way to the Governor's Mansion.
If not for the scar marring a side of his face, the Englishman would be a handsome sight strolling through the streets of Havana, escorted by the Governor's finest men. His sight was a catalyst of discussion, even ridicule and disgust, amongst the Spaniards who lay eyes on him. But his reputation was great enough that those who felt such feelings kept them to themselves, so that they may also keep their tongues.
Mary Read had been going about her own business, investigating a corrupt merchant believed to be on the Templar's payroll. So far, she'd uncovered enough evidence to prove the ties, and turn the investigation into a hunt. But then the sight of the Englishman coming down the street caught her eyes, and she quickly ducked behind a corner to avoid detection as she recognized him instantly.
"Well now, if it isn't Woodes Rogers. Come once more to lick the heels of your master, Templar?" Mary muttered underneath her breath.
The merchant could live another day, he wouldn't be going anywhere. But she knew that the British Templar who'd been appointed governor of the Bahamas would be sailing as soon as he finished discussing business with the Templar Torres. She couldn't afford to waste time. She ran towards a nearby lift and sliced the rope, shooting herself up towards the roof.
"Alto!" An officer clad in Spanish yellow warned Mary before she threw her foot out and struck him in the belly, causing him to keel. A quick hook from her right hand put him to sleep instantly.
"Sorry, I've got an appointment to keep." Mary said as she continued to stalk the Templar's escort party from the rooftops above.
As they neared the walls of the Governor's Mansion, Mary leapt from the edge of the building she was on to an extending branch of a large tree. She slid down the tree, and stood crouched in a mass of vegetation as Woodes Rogers passed through the gates. Keeping her breath still, she followed him to the manor's terrace and watched as the man took to practicing targets on dummies set up in the terrace to pass the time. The impressed Spanish soldiers clapped with each shot of Rogers, every consecutive blast increasing in its daring.
"Enough of that." Mary turned her head and saw that the Grand Master of the Templars, Laureano Torres, was entering the terrace with his brutish armor-clad bodyguard El Tiburon by his side. "Have you come to talk business with me, or have you come merely to show off to the grunts?"
Mary cursed silently. Two major Templars were right in front of her, but it would be suicide to try and kill them here. Not with so many blasted soldiers and that silent brute crawling about.
"Ah, forgive me, Grand Master." Woodes Rogers shrugged apologetically as he set his pistols aside. "I hadn't been sure when you'd be gracing us with your presence. I trust that all has been well since the last time we convened?"
"Not at all." Torres sighed as he stroked his beard. An aide, meek in the presence of the hulking bodyguard, handed Torres a cup of morning tea. He sipped and scowled bitterly before speaking again. "Sometimes, Rogers, I wake after a devilish premonición in my sleep and despair as I ponder the apparent futility of our mission to bring order to this world. Our armories and naval networks have still to recover from the loss of Julien du Casse. The hunt for the Sage Roberts continues to no success."
"The ocean is a vast place, but we are far vaster. He cannot hide forever."
"This is assuming that they... the Assassins…" Torres scowled the word with such venom that Mary shuddered at the thought of what could lay beneath the Spanish governor's cordial surface. "…do not find it first. Ah, the Assassins. Have you thought about them often, Rogers? At the core, our ultimate goals do not differ… but they possess no finesse, no sane thought as to properly accomplish it."
"Not often, Grand Master. I'd rather not live my life constantly looking over my shoulder."
"I'd imagine a man scarred as you are does not flinch often. Such resolve is why your empire has shown you favor, why you could have so deservedly earned a spot amongst the highest circle of the Templars, if not for your business endeavors. Wipe that look from your face, Rogers. Today I do not wish to discuss your history with the East India Company. Instead…" Torres took out a ruined flag and laid it out. "…let us talk about something that has been acquired by a recent skirmish at sea."
"That flag… I thought it to be a mere rumor passed on by ignorant pirates." Woodes Rogers shuddered as he gazed upon its insignia.
"As did I. But Richard Finn is as real a man as we are."
"That means his ill-gained fortune is real too, does it not?"
"Indeed, Rogers." Torres finished his tea. "And it would serve a far greater purpose, to hasten the peace in the Caribbean, in the coffers of the Templar Order. If El Tiburon's interrogation of a survivor of that battle is to be believed, it is not just gold the pirate carries. We must make haste, before the Assassins realize it. Perhaps it will even gain us a lead in the hunt for the Observatory."
He snapped his fingers. A black-haired man wearing a long white coat over an emerald vest carrying a Spanish saber in a scabbard walked up to Torres and Rogers, pride imbued in every inch of his gait.
"Grand Master Torres. Governor Rogers. My name is Renardo Aguilar, at your service."
"I've heard of you." Rogers said respectfully. "A valuable soldier in our war against the Assassin filth, I am told."
"Soldier? Bah! I prefer to think of myself as an artist, my blade my brush, and the bodies of the Assassins the canvas on which I paint." To demonstrate, Renardo withdrew his blade and sliced through the air, the air making whooshing noises with each swift slash of his weapon. "I was taught by the world's greatest swordsmen, schooled in the finest techniques of fight. From the castles of Spain to jungles of the Americas, many Assassins have tried to debate the standing of La Verdadera Destreza with me. I have yet to meet any that can exceed my skill."
Mary had heard and seen enough. She snuck out the same she'd come, raising not a hair of suspicion. First things first, head back to Tulum to inform Ah Tabai of what she'd just uncovered. So Richard Finn, the pirate captain Spotted Dick, was real after all. She'd heard many horror stories sitting at the tavern in Nassau, in between witnessing the drunken antics of Edward Kenway and Jack Rackham. Not a target to be taken lightly, but she knew just the right man for the job.
Then she'd come back to Havana to finish what she'd originally set out to do. All in all, a productive day of work.
Kingston
Woodes Rogers watched the groups of redcoats board the Man O' War. Torres had already sent Renaldo on his way long ago in pursuit of the fleet of Spotted Dick, but Rogers would suppose that it would help gain him a few favors with the King back in the British Isles if an operation of his conducting was to bring the pirate outlaw to justice. Of course, he'd be sure to lose the artifact in an accident… an accident that would send it floating to the safe depositories of a Templar fortress.
But given that this was a dangerous operation, one that could turn into a silly chase for nothing, Rogers supposed that he wouldn't risk the best of the men under his governorship such as Commodore Chamberlaine on this. No, instead, he decided to send a man they could afford to lose. A stringent, commodore in love with the empire who'd question nothing. Unpopular amongst all the men, with no successes to his name and only in his position due to a series of freak accidents involving all ahead of him, but that was just a part of the reason why he was the man for the job.
Who knew? Even if things did not wind up for the best, Rogers supposed that the fallout could be manipulated to best serve the interest of the Templars. Ah yes! That would be even better than destroying the pirate Richard Finn. It would provide him with an excuse to pressure his Highness to grant him more resources to battle the vicious pirates of the Caribbean… resources that would be diverted to the shadow war in reality.
"Hold on." Rogers ordered the men loading material into the hold of the Man O' War. "There's been a chance in orders, gentlemen."
"Halve the supply? You must be mad if you think that will help me best those dastardly pirates, Governor Rogers!" Commodore Thornbeard, his squeaky voice grating on Roger's nerves as usual. With his big bushy and curly dirty beard grown all around the thin slit that was his mouth of yellow teeth with black holes, his mouth looked almost like a… no, that was far too dirty a thought for a man in his position. A politician should never have such illicit thoughts, Rogers believed.
"Come now, Commodore. Have some faith in yourself. You need not the arsenal of the entire Royal Navy to best a few simple pirates. All it takes is some shock and awe." He whispered some more words into Commodore Thornbeard's ear. "I have a good feeling that this shall be the voyage that ends your streak of bad luck, one that will finally gain you the respect of your men."
"R-r-really?" Commodore Thornbead's legs buckled together, quivering in excitement. His eyes started to grow bubbly. "I-I-I won't l-let you down, Governor! For Britannia!" He cheered as he stomped back onto the deck of his ship.
"Good riddance." Rogers muttered as the Man O' War, the HMS Lenny, set sail. "Good Lord…" He muttered as he looked down at his clothes. "The little rat breathed on me… I feel so inconsiderably violated…"
Nassau
"Hey, leave it! I found it first! I'm the one that paid the reales for this dusty locker in the Havana market! It's my rightful possession!" Jack Rackham protested as he tried to keep the small chest in his grip, away from the stronger pull of Charles Vane. "You big bastard! Why must you always take everything I have from me?"
"Grr! Let go, you stinkin' little runt!" Vane spat as he and Jack Rackham continued to wrestle for ownership of the chest. "I'm the captain here! You're just the bloody quartermaster! You answer to me, you crying little fucker! It's my rightful possession! And don't you dare imply my own mother violated wedlock, you piss-stain!" He added as he socked Jack Rackham across the jaw, causing him to drop the chest. It cracked open, spilling its contents onto the floor of the tavern.
"The crew can't take much more of your attitude, Captain! We're the ones doin' all the fightin' for ya, but this is how you treat us! Like we're not better than swollen foot-sores!" Rackham insisted as he crawled away, while Vane began to examine the papers found in the chest.
"Do I look like I give a single damn about what your opinion is, Rackham? When I want an opinion from you, I'll tell ya what to think! And if you can't handle it, I'll replace you and the lot of them seditious lads after shoving my pistols up your loud-mouthed arse!"
"Pfft." Anne Bonny rolled her eyes as she wiped a glass at the other end of the tavern. "A bunch of bloody pirates are what yeh boys are. What the hell do any of yeh know about righteousness… but I suppose I shouldn't be the lass bein' the judge of character and all. Heh…"
"Treasure! Treasure is what I have stumbled across here!" Charles Vane bragged to all of the witnesses.
"You mean treasure I stumbled aaagh!" Rackham screamed as Charles Vane pushed him over the railing.
"Shut up for a second, will ya? As you can see, this is a map of coordinates! An island base of the dreaded pirate Richard Finn! Quiet and reclusive fella he is, but it'll make plunderin' his fleet and home all easier. Ah, me heart beats furiously at the mere thought of all the gold soon to be mine!"
"Um… Captain Vane… how about sharin' some with us? It's carin', right?" Rackham asked timidly.
"Aw, shaddup already will ya! Of course I'll share wit' ya… share ya the knuckles of me fist!"
Anne looked at the scene with some great curiosity as Vane triumphantly exited, with his crew submissively following behind him, the weeping Jack Rackham trailing furthest.
"Your bew'ful, why be unfaithful 'n waste time on 'em, I love yeh, Anne, really…" Oh Christ, it was her husband, if they could even still be considered married. Drunk from the stresses of his dedication to his job at the plantation once more. He tried to latch onto her. "Ho… hold me… let's be together once more…"
"Of course, James. I'll hold yeh." She said before grabbing his crotch tightly and twisting, bringing him to shrieks of pain. "Don't come and bother me when I'm at work again." She warned him as he sped off. What did she ever seen in the giant dullard? All work and no play, what a dull boy James Bonny was. There surely had to be a better way to have fun on this rat-hole than pour drinks to drunkards in between her fantasies day after day.
Great Inagua
"Has the Jackdaw been restocked yet?" Edward Kenway asked Adewale as he walked past the brothel in the town, politely waving down the advances of the prostitutes.
"Indeed, Edward. We could take on all the forts in the Caribbean and still have enough gunpowder to take an entire convoy." Adewale answered as he and Edward walked onto the Jackdaw's deck, receiving greetings from the crew.
As the Jackdaw set sail towards the coordinates mentioned on the paper that the Assassins had given him, Edward noticed that Adewale did seem a tad bit troubled.
"What's the matter, Ade? Is there something troubling your mind, my friend?"
"Aye, Edward. We've sailed together for quite some time. Seen many sights together, stood side-by-side against our enemies and bled as one… I know you well, but why you mock the Assassins and yet do their work confuses me greatly."
"It's not much of a puzzle, Ade. They're a silly bunch of sods, but they pay a tidy sum for work." Edward said as his eyes remained focused on the ocean ahead of them. "You see the ocean, Ade? Somewhere, amidst the waves, floats our prize. A prize that's part of a greater puzzle, a puzzle that'll fulfill the measure of our dreams when we complete it. What I dream of, a better life for myself and those I care about, it's worth risking my life for."
"Worth everything to you, Edward?"
"Of course, Ade. It's worth going to hell and back for, to wade my way through an inlet of dammed and dying men with a knife between teeth and swords in hand. The Assassins, Van Der Graff's contracts, the Observatory, the fleet that we pursue now, all of 'em are just pieces of the puzzle."
"They seem to fight for a just cause, Edward. Of liberation and other motives that are no shame to follow."
"They claim to promote freedom, and yet they still possess a Creed that restricts it. How can one claim that nothing is true and everything is permitted when there are still tenets to their lifestyles? I just want a life where I'll never have to be another man's dog again…"
"You think that is something only you want?" Adewale's face darkened. "Or that you truly know what it's like to be someone's dog?"
"Of course not! But… the Assassins are like a band of children playin' make-believe. Trying to fight, to win something they know they can't. I served the King as a privateer once, I've had enough of that type of life. I want one where I can live freely, without greater commitments."
"The freedom to do what one wants without any resistance? Is that not the power that grants men to the power to do cruel things to other men?" Adewale asked.
"We're bloody pirates, Adewale. Look at ourselves! It's just what we do!" Edward said.
"It doesn't have to be like this, Edward. We can try to be something greater…"
"Oh yes, we can try. We tried with Nassau, look how that's turnin' out. Thatch is gone, everyone else is at each other's throats, forgettin' that we're mates. Mates are meant to look out for one another, not quarrel and scheme between themselves. No, I've seen what happens when we try to go too grand. Nassau is proof enough that there'll never be anythin' to overtake the monarchies that works. I'd bet that even my grandchildren will never know such a world, much less help make it."
"So what then, Edward?"
"I just want a place I call my own. Our own, Adewale… hell, we already have it. Great Inagua. Just a few more touches, and it'll be perfect."
"If you say so, Captain. If you say so…" But Adewale's voice was a bit more doubtful than it was before.
"Onward, men! And sing us a song!" Edward ordered to the crew. "Riches and glory await us in the waters ahead!"