*This is still a half-and-a-quarter finished (maybe? it depends), but I want to get this chapter out as fast as possible, so I hope you guys will be satisfied with this as I type up the rest of it and fix whatever mistake I might've made before posting the finalized chapter 1! I'll update the remaining parts as soon as possible, though :) So stay tuned for the updated chapter anytime this week!*
Chapter 1: An Arrival
Elijah Swann could swear on his life, he had had no intention at all to do so, but the next thing he knew, the long chain was already draped around his neck. Glancing at a tall mirror opposite his bed, his reflection sat, bare-chested as he had discarded his sleep shirt the night before, and he idly wondered why the medallion felt just right against his skin. It was as if he was meant to wear it…
Before he could ponder on the thought for long, though, a knock on the door caused him to jump.
"Elijah? Are you decent?"
"One second, father!" He yelled in reply as he hastily scrambled for the billowy white shirt at the foot of his bed, slipping it on and over his body to conceal the token on his chest, as he hadn't enough time to take the blasted thing off. It's enough that his father, the governor that he was, was already very concerned with his interest in the seafarers, it wouldn't do for him to see his son wearing their symbol, of all things.
"Is it alright if I come in now?" Governor Weatherby Swann's exasperated voice rang out once again, tinged with amusement. Once the medallion was safely concealed under his clothes, he quickly replied, "Yes, father!"
The door swung open and his father, already dressed in his finest clothes with the flamboyant wig (he'd be damned if he was made to wear the abomination any time soon) atop his head, shook said ghastly wig along with his head as he addressed his only child, "Still abed at this hour?" Weatherby smiled, mirth creeping on his aged face as he watched his son cringe at the sunlight streaming in through the windows that the blushing maids had thrown open. "It's a beautiful day."
"Ah, yes, it is…" He replied, but he was more interested in his father's next action as he gestured towards a manservant. His eyebrows lifted at the clothes in the manservant's arms, they looked brand-new and, of course, must be hideously expensive. Before he could inquire any further though, his father spoke, "This is my gift for you."
"Uh, it's…exquisite, father…" Though inwardly he cringed, he was never one for overly-priced, thick, uncomfortable clothes that made you sweat buckets underneath all the damned layers, and this suit was exactly that. He had to keep that opinion to himself, though, so he forced his distaste out of his voice as he asked, "May I inquire as to the occasion?"
"Does a father need an occasion to dote upon his child?"
He rolled his eyes as his manservant urged him behind a screen door to change, "Seeing that it's you, father, I do believe so. You do know how I feel about these things, don't you?"
Weatherby laughed at the reply this time, "As astute as always, Elijah. I could never sneak anything past you." He could all but feel his son's eye-roll from behind the screen door, and another smile crept upon his face, "Actually, that is for you to wear to the ceremony today."
"Ceremony? What ceremony?" Is his son's question, and he answered, "Captain Norrington's promotion ceremony."
A gasp was heard, and the still half-dressed Elijah popped his head out, "I knew it! No wonder he's being so secretive towards Will and I lately!"
"Commodore Norrington, as he's about to become. I'm surprised that he didn't tell the two of you, the friends that you three are."
Elijah snorted, making his way out from behind the doors as he shrugged his arm into a shirtsleeve, "Most likely he just wants us to be surprised so he could gloat over it later."
Shaking his head in amusement at the mock bitterness in the statement, he stopped before giving a reply as another servant made his way into the room and bowed, "My Lord, you have a visitor."
"Thank you, I'll be there shortly," Weatherby replied, before turning back to face his son again, "You had better get ready quicker, Elijah. I'll wait for you in the foyer."
Elijah's sarcastic reply as he left the room amused him even more, "As soon as I can finish with all the buttons on this torture device, father."
In the hallway of the large mansion, a young man with dark, pony-tailed hair paced restlessly, a long box tucked under his arms and brown eyes skimming over the intricate ornaments decorating the halls, before finally settling on a brass light fixture on the wall next to him. Suddenly fascinated with its detailed metalwork, he lightly grasped the fixture, and the resounding snap as it broke under his hands nearly made him jump. Hastily discarding the broken part into a vase, he straightened up and gave a strained smile towards a servant passing by.
"Ah, William! Good to see you again." He nearly jumped again, and gave himself a mental kick for not being more aware. Casting a brief worried look at the vase, he smiled in greeting at the kind governor making his way towards him, "Good day, sir."
Placing the box he carried on a table, he added, "I have your order," Opening the box, he presented the sword laying inside, handing it with a flourish towards the older man. Letting out a hum of approval, he drew the sword out of its scabbard, admiring the craftsmanship as Will starts to speak of its defining details.
"The blade is folded steel. That's gold filigree laid into the handle," Seeing the man start to examine the sword critically, Will extended his hands politely, "If I may?"
Politely without a word, Weatherby passed the sword back to the young man and paid rapt attention as Will spoke with an almost reverent tone, "Perfectly balanced. The tang is nearly the width of the blade." He backed away in surprise when Will suddenly flipped the sword through the air, and he watched, impressed, as the man caught it with an expert ease that he couldn't help but praise.
"Impressive… Very impressive," Weatherby dared not look Will in the eyes as he placed the sword back into its box for fear of the laugh in his throat making its way out, "Commodore Norrington's going to be very pleased with this."
Will paused as the implication of that statement hit him, and before he could stop it, a small shout left his lips, "Commodore Norrington-!" Clamping his mouth shut before he could finish his yell, the man bowed, horrified at his rudeness, "I-I apologize, sir!"
Unable to hide his amusement anymore, the old man let out a laugh, "Ah, no need to fret, Will. I completely understand since Elijah reacted quite similarly, this is quite the news, isn't it?"
The young man smiled back in relief even as he swore inwardly at a certain man's cheek in hiding this big a news from him, "Yes it is, sir. Elijah and I certainly aren't aware of it, but can you excuse me if I assumed that his promotion was made final when you commissioned me for that sword last month?"
Coughing into his palm, Weatherby replied, "Right on the head, William."
"What?! So you have known all along, father? And you kept it a secret from the two of us?" Their conversation was interrupted by the yell from the staircase. Craning their heads towards the direction, both of their eyebrows lifted at the blond-haired man rapidly descending the stairs, still not completely dressed, with his waistcoat unbuttoned and his velvet coat slung over his shoulder. Will snorted, "Normally, with clothes that fine, I would say you looked good, my friend, but not with you not completely dressed up in it."
Weatherby nodded sagely, "Yes indeed. By the way, Will, I have to say, you have most certainly outdone yourself with this blade, it is a masterpiece."
Catching on to the man's game, Will hid his humor as he replied, "Thank you for your kind words, sir. A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated."
"Would it be suffice to say that you are nearing the end of your apprenticeship, then? Once you do, then I would be happy to provide support for you to open up your own workshop. With your skills, you would certainly succeed in making a name for yourself."
"You are too kind, sir. I am not deserving of such a generous offer—"
Losing his patience, Elijah snapped, "Stop talking as if I am not here, Will. The same goes to you, father. I am still miffed at you, by the way."
His father sighed theatrically, "How uncouth of you, Elijah! Sometimes I wonder which of you is the governor's son here, it is as if William here is the nobleman instead of you, my horribly rude son."
Despite the derogatory words, the almost laughing way the man said it only succeeded in making the two young men chuckle, their former irritation all but gone in the face of such good-natured teasing.
Casting a glance towards the waiting coach outside, Weatherby stated almost regretfully, "We really must be going, Elijah. You can straighten up on our way to the fort." Picking up the sword box, he gave a questioning look as his son turned towards him, and when he spoke, it was with a pleading tone, "Can I please follow Will to the workshop first, father? It's not like the ceremony will start soon, there's at least an hour left if we leave now. James wouldn't mind not seeing me before the ceremony starts. And I can straighten up at the workshop, so you don't have to worry about me not being presentable."
With a lifted eyebrow, he asked, "May I inquire as to why you want to do that, Elijah?"
The blond merely smiled sheepishly in return, and he let out a sigh, "Fine, I won't ask. But make sure that you won't be late. It is fortunate that the workshop is so close to the fort, so there should be no problem if you weren't present for the mingling before the ceremony."
Elijah grinned, "Why do you think I refused to go much earlier then, father?"
Weatherby shook his head in exasperation at his son's cheekiness as he made his way towards the waiting coach, "Don't be late, Elijah. Good day, Will."
"Good day, Sir!" Will replied, but his words were replaced by a yelp as Elijah pulled him impatiently, "Let's go, Will!"
"Can you at least stop tugging me so I can walk by myself, please?" The brunette yelled at the laughing blond who suddenly let him go as he sprinted towards the gates, and he ran in pursuit, slowing down only to bow towards the governor now sitting inside the coach before falling into step beside his best friend. Watching the two young men bicker down the road, the elder man shook his head in amusement at his son's antics. As the coach started to move away, he heard bits and pieces of the sentences exchanged between Will and Elijah, before they faded away in the distance.
"I had a dream about you last night!" "About me? That… is actually quite disturbing, mate." "Oh, shut it. It's about the day we met. Remember?" "How could I forget, Mr. Swann?"
A lone woman stood, the blowing winds somehow making her look even more impressive as she looked on with an almost bored gaze at the approaching port. With her long, bandanna-bound dark hair under a tricorne hat whipping around a finely sculpted face, the woman's beauty combined with the confident way she posed herself even on such a ridiculous place—a ship's mast, of all places—made for a mesmerizing display.
The moment of silence was broken, though, when she suddenly snapped her gaze downwards and immediately grabbed a rigging rope to slide down the mast. What should be a longer slide down, proved to be short as the mast she stood on was revealed to be a small boat's. With almost frantic movements, she grabbed a wooden pail and started bailing out the water leaking incessantly into the boat. Struggling slightly with the heavy weight of the water, she'd only bailed out a single pail before something caught her eye.
Standing up, she took off her hat and placed it above her heart in an exaggerated motion of respect at the skeletal remains of three pirates, hanging from the gallows of a rocky promontory still clad in their buccaneer clothes, though they were mere rags now on the decaying corpses. Her eyes zeroed in on a fourth gallows beside the three, occupied only by a sign proclaiming 'Pirates Ye Be Warned.' To the sign, she merely gave a two-fingered salute as the sinking boat continued sailing forward.
Beside a docked ship, sailors loaded various cargo onto it, ranging from gunpowder kegs to livestock with a few other men shouting instructions on where to place them and how to handle them, resulting in a very lively, if loud, atmosphere. But one by one, each of the rowdy sailors fell silent as they all stared at an honestly very peculiar sight.
On top of a rapidly sinking boat's mast, standing proudly as if without a care in the world, was a woman. They could only gape at her, only blinking when the boat sunk completely and the woman, with expert timing, nimbly stepped onto the dock. They continued to stare until it dawned on them that they should finish loading their ship, and their hastiness to finish their work took precedence over the strange sight of a stunningly beautiful woman docking a sinking ship. This would still make quite a story to be passed around as they sailed, though.