Me: hey everyone! I'm so glad with the response I got for that little test prologue!
Danny: Yeah, thanks everyone :)
Me: So, the fic is definitely going ahead now – here's the first chapter.
Danny: And some replies to the six wonderful people who reviewed:
Makayla Nina Elirc H: I'm glad that you do!
AnimeSnowflake: Thanks for that! I love writing for Selim – he's one of the main characters in my other fic. He's just so cute and I could had this image of him running a bar which is probably one of the things that inspired this story.
DarkKittehKat: Here it is, continued!
Do a Barrel Roll: You have such an awesome penname! I'm happy you like it :)
Dying Heart Alchemist: No more cliffy! Yeeeeeeees! I have… uh (how are you supposed to phrase this) pleased to… continue? Nope, this sentence cannot possibly be switched to first person.
soulevans31: Here's your update! Thanks for your review!
The Truth Within the Waves, Chapter 1: Battle
Isle-Sainte-Marie Pirate Article #1:
Every man shall obey civil command; the Captain shall have half the prizes if he so desires and the navigator, gunner and first-mate shall have a quarter on the same circumstance. The rest is to be spread out amongst the crew, based on merit of battle performance.
Flute crouched down, one eye closed for better focus behind the cannon.
It was dark, with no light from the stars through the heavy layer of clouds. The sea was unusually still, with only the occasional waves hitting the side of the ship. No birds could be heard overhead.
The small blonde boy sucked in a breath, his legs beginning to ache in his awkward position. His ears hurt too, from the long exposure to the freezing night air and his chest was pressed uncomfortably against the back of the cannon. If only he could use one of his matches to light something to keep him warm. But Flute was running low again, and, besides, any light would give them away.
"Any time now," Rusty, his older brother, whispered, "we just need to stay quiet until it comes into to range."
"But I can't see it! And I'm freezing up!" he replied, keeping his restless tone as low as he could in the silence.
"Shhh!" Rat said on his other side, putting a gloved finger to his lips, "I can, so shut your trap, or you'll be tied to the mast again. Then it'll be even colder. You want that?"
Flute shook his head.
"Good. Now we just have to wait until Caps gives us the go-ahead."
Flute was the youngest on the ship, but only by a few months or so. The Captain had taken him in along with Rusty for his disturbing amount of knowledge on gunpowder and explosives. Rusty was now second in command, but he had always been at the bottom of the heap.
Groaning inwardly, he looked around, taking in the positions of the crew around him. Ling hung from the rigging, his sword already out in his hand, disquietingly unblinking as always. Alphonse, the captain's own younger brother and the ship's navigator, was positioned on top of one of the many barrels. Reed was crouching down further along the ship's wall, next to Brick.
Everyone was armed with a weapon of some sort, Flute's being the only one that couldn't be moved. Guns were popular amongst their crew, but a few like Rat and the Captain still held onto their old swords or cutlasses, preferring to be in the heart of that battle.
You needed to be ready to die to have a sword.
He, though, probably had the 'safest' weapon. All Flute had to do was fire those deadly cannonballs from their own ship, trying his best to hit the enemy vessel in weak place that would make it go down.
The young boy gave a sigh and turned his head round, looking up at the Captain. He was positioned in the crow's nest with one of Alphonse's spyglasses rested against his eye. His gaze seemed to be locked on something in the distance, but Flute with his own one couldn't make out a thing.
Suddenly Alphonse jumped up and made his way to the rigging. He climbed it quickly, silently, until he reached the top, stretching out for his older brother's hand as he was pulled over the barrier.
He saw them exchange some words in rushed whispers and Alphonse kept repeatedly pointing to a spot in the distance. Flute squinted hard and he was glad to finally see something. A small black dot was slowly drawing closer, revealing the line of the masts and sails as it did so.
The boy smiled. He could finally see what everyone else could.
"Alright then," he could even hear the Captain's hushed voice from this far away it was so quiet. "Change of plans. Flute," Flute couldn't see his face from this far away, but his sharp gaze seemed to penetrate through the darkness. He winced inwardly, wondering what the person in charge of the ship wanted from him. Orders weren't usually that great. "The incoming ship has already been taken by other pirates. We need extra explosives. Fast."
Flute shot up, not really finding this new information surprising –it had happened many times before - and saluted, murmuring a quick "aye aye, sir!" as he scrambled forward, rushing over to the crates that held his precious supply of gunpowder. What he had for the cannon to hand was enough for a pleasure ship maybe, but one that had been overrun was likely to have just as big an arsenal as their's. He wanted to be ready.
Suddenly Rusty was beside him, picking up a crate also. They made their way back to the cannon where Flute reached down into one of his pockets, drawing out a small pouch, secured tightly with rope. He fumbled for the end of the bond in the darkness, hastily untying the knot whilst being careful not to spill out the bag's contents onto the deck floor.
"Are you OK with that?" his older brother said, "I need to go and help the Captain."
"I'm fine," the younger boy replied quickly, pulling out one of his matches, "thankfully my matches have dried off after this morning, so I can handle this on my own."
With a sharp nod of approval, Rusty grabbed his weapon and got up again, running back over the deck towards the wheel, where the other crew members were gathering.
Flute was now on his own, and it was his time to show off his skills again. He may have been the smallest, but his gunpowder-work was what kept the ship's firearms going. The rest of them made him feel like it was the only thing he was good for, so when it was time for battle he was always desperate to prove himself. The first attacks were always his, and if he hit the right spots on the enemy ship, he could virtually take it down by himself.
As he pushed the cannon closer to the edge for better aim, the captain's final orders were given behind him, except it seemed to be Rusty's voice this time.
"Remember everyone, the main object of this raid is food. Based off of Rat's report earlier, we only have a few apples and half a sack of grain left on our ship. Get all the gold you want – after all, we can do so much with that – but what you grab that's edible is what you live off for the next month. Got it?"
"Aye aye, sir!"
Flute was beginning to wonder where the Captain had got to when someone kicked him in the back.
"Ow! Hey! What did you do that f-" he stopped, eyes widening.
The Captain. Shit.
The older boy stared down at him, piercing golden eyes imitating the moonlight in the water. His matching hair hung down around his shoulders, some strands braided into beads. The sword attached around his waist was obvious too, reflecting the small amount of light there was like silver fire. With a nasty-looking scar above his right eye and an almost permanent frown set into his face, you knew from the first second that you looked at him that he was not to be messed with.
"Captain!" his hand sped to the side of his forehead in a hasty salute.
"Flute. Don't disappoint me tonight. We need this bounty an' we're all relyin' on you for the first attack. Get me?"
"Yes, Captain!"
His leader grunted in response and left, heading back to where the rest of his crew was gathered.
Strangely motivated by the Captian's surprise words, Flute took a deep breath of cold, salty sea air and wrapped his hands for a second around his cannon. He fixed his eyes through the ring on top towards the ever-growing black shape on the water in front of him. He could make out figures moving on the deck now – and they all seemed to be doing what his ship was.
"Al, hoist the flag!"
"Aye aye, brother!"
Flute heard the sound of rope against metal as the black and white cloth was raised, the material catching in the wind as it grew higher.
The enemy ship was almost in firing range now, which meant that it was really his time to shine.
The boy grabbed a powder bag and pushed it down the front of the cannon's barrel, then reached for a cannonball, his muscles straining to lift it up and load it in after. He used an old ramrod to push it further down, knowing that the ball needed to be as close to the powder as possible.
His heart rate began to speed up as pulled a match from his pouch, dragging it along the side of the cannon.
Fire caught and the boy cried out as loud as he could with his little voice, telling his crewmates that it was time for battle.
The response was massive and everyone flew to the starboard with ropes attached to the rigging, ready to jump over the water and onto the enemy's boat as soon as they could.
Flute held his match over the thread that was sticking out of the cannon's vent, watching intently as the fuse burned away, sending the spark down to where his freshly-loaded gunpowder was waiting.
The resulting explosion jerked him backwards as the heavy ball flew out of the muzzle of the cannon, flying high into the air before cascading down on the opposite ship with a huge crash.
Shouts were heard as cannons – more than one – were fired back, two missing and one just clipping the top of a sail.
"Looks like these guys don't have much of a good aim," he said to himself, fumbling for another match to counterattack with, "and damn, I need to get myself a friction primer."
The boat was very close now – close enough to get onto. And, with a quick order from the Captain, his crew did just that, leaving just Flute behind on their ship with Ling by his side for back up.
He'd never really gotten to know the older boy with the weird shifty eyes, but he knew from what he'd seen was that he had amazing sword-fighting skills. Ling's style was sneaky – he would become so quiet and unnoticed it was like he was a part of the shadows, and then attack so fast no one could possibly see it coming. He was always learning too – English wasn't his first language, Flute had discovered. The black-haired boy was found on a desert island and right now, he still didn't have the vocabulary to say what had happened to him. Not that the Captain was interested in that, anyway – he just wanted a crew member that he didn't to train.
The two ships had become so close together that they hit against each other with each wave. The time for firing was over, Flute realised, which meant it was unfortunately time for him to grab a closer-range weapon.
He grabbed a pistol and began to shoot, almost blind in the lack of light, at enemies that were jumping onto his ship. Ling had taken down two already and he was now stripping them of weapons, eyeing the swords they carried to see if they were worth keeping.
There was a pool of glistening blood around one of the men's shoulders and Flute almost slipped in it as he rushed past, trying to distance himself from a particularly large man.
The boy heard the yells of his fellow crew members nearby, and after a quick glance around he managed to work out that the fight had been brought over onto his Captain's ship, Isle-Sainte-Marie.
The Captain was currently engaged in a fight with what seemed to be the leader of the enemy crew. The much taller man held a large dagger near the blonde's face, but before he could cut skin the smaller boy stepped aside, blocking the attack with his left hand and grabbing his wrist. He jammed his free fingers into the rival's throat and grabbed his arm again with both hands, then twisted round, using the momentum of the arc to ram the opponent's own dagger into his shoulder. Without a cry, he slumped to the floor, bleeding heavily but still alive.
Looking on from the safety of the shadows, Flute swallowed nervously. The Captain was such a great fighter, and he was glad he was on his side.
As soon as the enemy was down, the young captain with a clear smirk on his face that shone strangely in the moonlight, seemed to notice something and he bent down and reached into the man's pocket, drawing out a glittering red stone. It was probably no bigger than the palm of Flute's hand and it held a rather ragged shape.
Beautiful but deadly, Flute thought as he imagined the razor-sharp edges slicing into flesh, drawing blood the same colour as the gem's surface.
The Captain eyed it carefully, and as he did so, Flute noticed the scar above his eye had opened up again during the heat of the battle, his blood trickling down one side of his face.
At sight of their own fallen captain, who was now slowly getting up, the rival crew quickly jumped up, trying desperately to get away back onto their stolen pleasure ship.
Flute spotted the Captain raise a gloved hand, signalling to leave them be. The boy saw that his crewmates had managed to grab food for themselves, but his face paled when he realised that he forgot to pick up any. He quickly glanced to the enemy boat, but it was already beginning to drift away, their captain shouting across.
"Edward Elric!" he called out to the Captain, "I remember who you are! I'll find you and your ship again one day, and when I do, your flesh will be fed to the rats!"
"Whatever, bastard!" he shouted back, "you'll never take us down!"
The Captain spat at the other retreating ship and stepped higher up on the crate he was standing on, this addressing the rest of his crew.
"Tonight was a good night," he declared, raising his crimson-stained cutlass into the night air as he spoke, "we 'ave ourselves a good plunder, boys!" He grinned as victorious shrieks came from everyone around him, including Flute, who was temporarily distracted from his food situation.
"Brother!" Al called happily, his voice slightly slurred from the drink in his hand, "look what I found!" He was talking about a large barrel of rum he had grabbed from the other boat, full to the brim with a strong-ish liquor.
At first, Flute knew that the Captain was reluctant to let Alphonse even board his ship. His sibling was way too soft and caring to be one of them, one of the pirates. But after some very repetitive training and just a tiny bit of torture to toughen him up, the boy had become as hard-hearted as the rest. Well, more or less, anyway. Sometimes, during raids, Al would hesitate when using his sword, or flinch when holding a gun. He still needed to learn that, out here in the sea, it was survival of the fittest. Survivors were the ones who had the treasure, and the ones who had the nerve to kill. The crew on the Isle-Sainte-Marie were boys who weren't afraid of death – the best of the best. Well-disciplined pirates with proper respect for their Captain. Well, it was either respect or keel-hauling, and they were all sensible enough to know which one brought less harm. Flute was aware that Al could never have the guts to be second in command, but his talents in map reading and charting courses were exceptional, so the Captain had placed him as the ship's own navigator, a job title he had previously held solely to himself.
Liquour, thought, was something that the mostly innocent boy had come to love. And he could hold it down, too, almost as good as his older brother. Flute couldn't do that. He could have a swig or two, then it would be throwing up over the starboard for him.
Everyone was taking steps forward towards Alphonse, rum glasses in their hands as they went, obviously wanting a drink. Flute stayed back though, feeling slightly detached from them all. He'd fought hard with his cannon, slowing down that ship so that his crewmates would get a better chance at battle, but he was still left with that familiar feeling he got after a battle that he hadn't done much – he'd just hid as soon as he could before anyone could attack him.
"Hey, Flute," a voice sounded from next to him and Flute looked up to see his older brother, a sack slung over his back. He dropped it at the younger boy's feet, some of the contents spilling out onto the deck.
"Rusty…" the smaller boy's eyes scanned over the various fish and birds, not yet gutted but in good condition to eat.
"I knew you wouldn't be getting any," Rusty smiled softly, "so I made the extra effort to make sure we could both eat. I mean, without you and your cannon, the raid would have been much harder, right?"
"Thanks!" Flute grabbed the food, loaded it back into the bag and tied it up with some string.
"So, where to next, then, Captain sir?" he heard Rat say between a mouthful of rum.
"We've got us lots of places to go to," it was clear the Captain was drinking too,"I hear that the Westward Passage is a good place to get some plunderin' done. 'Is a major shipping lane between Cuba and Hispaniola."
"I'll starting charting a course tomorrow, Brother!" Alphonse giggled.
Looks like I'll need to get more matches as soon I can, Flute thought, happier because of the present from his brother, and screw throwing up, I'm gonna have a drink.
Danny: And that's the first chapter!
Me: Hope you all liked it :)
Danny: Did you know all the named crew members are actual characters from either the 2003 series or Brotherhood with their names altered? It's obvious who Ling is, but can you guess who Flute is? Or Rat?
Me: Oh, and this fic's not written from Flute's POV all the time. It will vary :)
Danny: Here's the disclaimer/claimer that I forgot at the beginning: MiniHayden doesn't own Fullmetal Alchemist. However, she does own a £12 pirate book she brought for research for this fic. Oh, and some plain flour. She has that too.
Me: Flour, Danny?
Danny: *shrugs* it's in the cupboard. Bye everyone! Don't forget to review!
Me: See you next time!