"You know what I'm just thinking, Pete?"
"Wot's that then, Jeffords?"
"Times like these, I'm glad we're island-bound."
"Ye-"
A flash of light flooded the room and immediately afterwards, a terrible crashing sound roared across the entire dimly lit room. Small and cramped with only a faltering lamp for light. Sitting on two barrels with a small table between them, two men held cards in their hands and a pile of seashells split between them. One was lanky, hunched over while the other was rotund and stout. Both of them wore the same white, sleeveless uniform while their hats were resting on the windowsill, protected from the torrential downpour splattering against the shaky window. Just above the visor, the white hats held big bold letters that spelt out MARINE.
"-P," The round one popped his last word through thick lips and glanced wearily at the rattling window, "Join the Marine Corp, they said. See the world, they said. Heh, screw that. The world bloomin' well sucks fishsticks."
"You saying that because we're on clean up duty tomorrow?" The thin, lanky one quirked his brow and his question was met with a sudden guffaw.
"No, I'm sayin' that because we're bloomin' stinkin' rich and-Yeah, no shit, ya tall son o' bitch! Now stop stallin' and let me see yer hand!"
"Calm down, you ornery fatass! I'm just thinking, is all. Can't you let a guy-?"
"Jeffords, we're using bloomin' seashells, ya dipstick. It ain't real berri."
"It's the principle of-"
Another flash of white, another world-shaking roar and another death-rattle from the window. This time, it wasn't just the window but the whole building that shook. A curse left the pair's mouths as their table quaked and the window's latch snapped off, allowing a smattering of rain water to pour in as their hats were swallowed into the night. Seashells and cards flew, shattering on the wet ground. The howling wind was a piercing scream that made their brains shudder and their skin shiver.
"Sea king's soggy ballsack!" Jefford yelled as hard as he could, but it was a whimper compared to the gale's roar, "Pete, get the window! I'll board it up!"
"On it!" The burly man moved fast for someone of his size and forced the open windows shut, becoming drenched wet in the process. He grunted with effort as he fought against a sliver of nature's wrath but managed to keep them closed as Jeffords quickly grabbed what he needed. It was only open for a few seconds but the two marines were drenched to the bone, the floor was glistening wet and their game was ruined.
"Damn it all," Pete groused, wiping away the rain water from his brow as the wooden boards kept the window in place, "Where in the seven hells did this storm blow in from anyhow? Did nun' of the other bases bother to warn us?!"
"Even if they did, do you think the snails are gonna get a signal through this? Gah, fuck sake! All of our shells are broken! And our cards are soaked! Pete, go out and there and yell at the storm!"
"The fuck ya expect me to do?!"
"Annoy it until it pisses off and leaves us alone," Jefford's smirk was hidden as he picked up the remains of their poker game, "What hand did you have anyway?"
"Bah, one pair. Yers?"
"Two pairs, ha! I would've won if it wasn't for that damn storm. Tch, not like it matters though," Pete rolled his eyes but declined on saying anything more.
"If ya want to get Raku somethin' nice, just treat her to a nice dinner and some wine. No need to get all mopey about nothin'."
"But I've been doing that for the past two years, Pete. She's my special girl, she deserves something special."
"If ya love her and she loves ya, yer all the special she needs. A fancy trinket ain't gonna change that," Pete grunted out as he took the faltering lamp in his hand and opened the door to a large, open hallway.
"If you're such a romantic, why don't you have a girl, Pete? Then again if you get on top of them, you're liable to turn them into pancakes and get snackish."
"'Cause I'm a kind soul, ya idjet. If I went up and lost all of this," Pete's jowls and his belly shook like jelly as he flexed one of his arms to the unimpressed taller man, "Then I'll have the ladies' knickers and their waists bent over faster than ya can say gee golly!"
"Thank ye, oh mighty one, for not taking my love away from me," Jeffords rolled his eyes and Pete sagely nodded, "Now stop giving me nightmares and let's do our rounds. This storm is way worse than I thought it was gonna be."
"Too right. Gives me the spooks, it does. Unnatural, ya know?"
"Yeah. With you on that one," Jeffords heaved the planks of wood under his arm, holding a box of nails and a hammer with the other. The pair walked around and found windows rattling open and letting the downpour in. It wasn't only them, many other marines were doing their best to lock the windows and board up the broken ones. They helped out where they could, suffering through water and wind, but it didn't last long.
"Hey, you two! Where the hell have you been!?"
"Oh shi-" Jeffords mumbled for a split second before he and Pete snapped into a salute. Stomping down a hallway and causing other marines to salute and duck away in quick order was an older woman wearing the same uniform as them but with long sleeves and buttons. Thin lines stretched across her glaring expression, her dark hair done up in a small bun. She wore fingerless black gloves which had balled into white-knuckled fists.
"Chief Petty Officers Jeffords Dumall and Pete Switx! Mind explaining why I've walked around the base four times now and it's only now I find you two working?" The woman placed her hands on her hips and another thunderous blow caused the base to shake.
"Ma'am, it is because we were checking the storage rooms, ma'am!" Jeffords bellowed out. Or attempted to as his voice came out in a shivering squeak. The woman stared at him with half-lidded eyes and her hand blurred towards him.
"Not the face!" He yelped, covering his face with his arms. When no blow came, he peeked through his fingers to find the smaller woman holding something between her fingertips.
"O-Oh, how did that get there?! P-Pete, did you prank me again?!" Jeffords turned to his fellow Petty Officer and he was met with a pained, resigned expression.
"Ma'am, permission to be buried in a deeper grave than Jeffords?" Pete's dull voice was followed by another flash of pure white before a thunderbolt struck the earth once more.
"Permission denied!" The woman flicked the stray piece of seashell straight at Jeffords' face who squawked in pain, "The storm is worse than we thought and it isn't going to let up anytime soon, it seems. Captain's orders are that we're going to Rockshi and making sure the villagers are alright. And considering you two idiots seem to be already wet, then you won't mind getting some coats on and going out!"
"B-By ourselves?! In this weather?!"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you children or marines!? And no, I've already sent out five squads who are doing actual work! Now stop talking back, put on your big boy pants and do your jobs! Am I understood?!"
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" The duo shouted in perfect unison and bolted from her sight. When they were gone, she placed a hand on her forehead and the sight that left her lips was long and full of pain.
"They just ran out without getting a coat, didn't they?" She asked one of the marines near her.
"That they did, Ensign Mara. Should I…?"
"Leave 'em. We got work to do."
"Don't let go, Pete! Don't you dare let go!"
"I ain't gonna bloomin' let ya go, ya fudge muncher! Now stop ya whingin' and do yer job!" Even right next to each other, they could barely hear themselves above the tempest squall of the storm. Their coats barely did anything to keep them dry and their flickering lantern lights were on the verge of being blown out. They didn't walk so much as trudged and stomped against the tumultuous winds. Pete held onto Jeffords and vice versa as if they were each other's security blankets.
"Do ya-!?"
A flash of the purest light blinded them both and a terrible crack followed. The cobblestone streets had become rivers and the houses groaned under the stress of the tempest. The sharp, metallic smell of ozone filled their nostrils and lungs, they tripped and slipped but they carried on until they reached the end of the wet, dark village.
"All good over here! See anything?!"
"Bloomin' nothin'! I-Hold on! Okay, got the thumbs-up from across the street! Get a move on, Jeffords! We gotta check the beach!"
"What the hell!? Why?!"
"Because if any of the fishermen got caught out, the beach is where they're gonna be!" Pete barked back and the hefty marine fought against the storm and his friend. Neither was enough to stop him from walking, even if they were tiny steps.
"If they got caught out in this storm, then the fish are eating them for a change! The hell do you expect to find!?"
"Wha's the matter, Jeffords?! Afraid to get a little wet!? Gegegege!" Pete laughed back heartily, even as the pitch-black sky above him rumbled, as if furious with the levity being shown in front of its power. Pete held out and forced onward, holding out his lamp in front of him. A single speck of flickering red flame in the dark that stubbornly burned against the winds and rain.
"Pete, you-fuck! Lantern's gone out! Pete, what the hell are you doing?! Going down to the beach in this weather is way too dangerous!" Despite Jefford's best efforts, his lantern had gone out and he was left with the wind trying to shear the flesh off his bones and the rain trying to drown him in a deluge.
"The whole bloomin' point of being a marine is to be in danger so normal people ain't, Jeffords! If some poor sod is trapped or hurt, we ain't gonna hear him over the storm! Now stop your cryin' and start yer walkin'!"
"I didn't sign up to drown!"
"Should've been born a fishman then! Gegegege!"
Pete led the way with his lamp, his determination in the face of the tempestuous typhon only serving to make it roar louder. Thunder crashed in great sapphire arcs, causing the restless sea to crack apart from the blow and felling massive trees. For what felt like hours, the overweight man was forced to carry his friend and care for their sole source of light. When they reached, the beach was little more than an extension of the ocean; raging and crashing upon each other in waves. It threatened to climb up the hill, to drag the village and the marine base underneath to their icy depths.
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey!? Is anyone out here!?" Pete's shout was followed by him swinging his lantern as if it were a lighthouse. A pittance compared to the rainstorm but still, he carried on as he stood tall and swung his light.
"No, they bloody ain't! Now let's get the hell back to base!" But Pete ignored Jeffords plea. His eyes could barely see through the water dripping down his brow and his ears were filled with the wind screaming and the clouds rumbling above. But even so, Pete scanned the beach and its waters.
"Pete, I swear to-!"
Another flash of pure white and for a single moment, the world was not darkness and rain and thunder. For a single moment, something shone.
"There! Over there! Some poor sod's stuck on a rock!" Pete pointed out as if his pudgy finger pierced through the gloom and rain. Without wasting a second, the marine braved the crashing waves of the sea. If he had noticed that Jefford had let go of him, he didn't say anything.
"Pete! Pete, come on! It isn't worth it, he's probably dead already!" Jeffords had let go and threw himself under the safety of a tavern's patio. He watched as his friend ventured out to the storm with only a small flickering flame as a companion.
"Oh, fucking idiot! Moron! What the hell is he thinking, going out there?" Jeffords said to himself, unable to tear his gaze away from the beach. He could no longer see the dim light of his friend's lantern, but he waited and hoped that he would eventually see reason.
Seconds felt like hours but eventually, Jeffords was rewarded by the sight of his friend emerging from the storm, his lantern nowhere to be seen. Another flash of lightning showed the rotund man's expression, tight with effort and exertion, as he carried someone on his back. From this close, he could see the glint of steel in the corpse's hand. A handguard of a blade, he realised. The corpse was holding onto a blade against all odds.
"Pete!? What the hell-!?"
"He ain't kicked the bucket yet, ya prick! Damn kid is still alive! Now help me get him to the doc!"
"R-Right!"
"So. What are we looking at here?" Sitting in a simple swivel chair was an elderly, bespectacled man. His grey hair, wiry and greasy, was swept back by his thin, calloused hands. Under his eyes, two dark rings had formed and deep lines were stretched on his face. On his shoulders was a pure white coat with the words JUSTICE imprinted on them. He leaned back in his chair, tapping his desk with a finger. From behind him, a few broken windows allowed the morning sun's rays to light up the room, a faint musty quality to the warm air.
"Not as bad as it could be, Captain," Mara stood before him, standing straight as an arrow, "We managed to save some of our gunpowder, about a quarter of it, but that was the most valuable thing lost. We'll need to repair the roof and the windows, but otherwise, minimal damage to us."
"And Rockshi? How's the town?"
"Again, not as bad as it could be. No one's majorly hurt, a few flooded basements and the like. Despite how fierce and sudden the storm was, it seems like we got out of it pretty well."
"The animals in the forests are gonna be riled up something fierce though. Make sure to send out patrols of five around the perimeter of the town and give them flintlocks to ward off any animals that try to get close. Give supplies to the villagers if they're in need and send any spare hands to help them fix up."
"Will do, Captain Lorick. Is that all?" The Ensign asked respectfully and the marine Captain lifted his head, staring at the ceiling for a moment. He pushed himself up from his chair and grabbed a small wooden stick that rested next to him. He walked around the desk slowly and the sound of wood hitting stone echoed out. Along with his walking stick supporting him, the marine captain's right leg was missing and a wooden peg had taken its place.
"Yes, that will be all, Ensign. But walk with me to the infirmary, will you? Jeffords and Pete brought us a guest, if I recall correctly."
"Pete did," Mara's response was clipped and precise as the two naval officers left the office, "I've already asked around, but I got nothing. He's a stranger that the storm must've blown in."
"Any sign of wreckage nearby? There could be other survivors that we missed," He asked but Mara shook her head. As they walked, various other marines were cleaning up the glass shards and the water. They snapped salutes as the ensign and captain passed by them, set at ease by the old man's smile.
"What we found indicates it was little more than a rowing boat but it was torn to shreds by the storm. It could hold a passenger and some supplies, but that's it."
"Hmmm…" The old captain hummed as his expression relaxed and softened, "A survivor from a pirate attack, maybe?"
"It's impossible to tell right now, captain. For what it's worth, I got in touch with the other branches and none of them have sighted any pirates recently."
"Then I suppose the only thing we can do is wait for him to wake up. And where are Pete and Jeffords anyhow?"
"Well…"
"Give it to me straight, doc. Will I ever walk again?"
"You have a cold, not a broken leg! And if you distract me again, then you'll never shove food through your gullet again after I extract your oversized stomach!"
"Gegegege, calm down, ya quack! I'm just messin' around with'cha!"
Pete stood before a sitting doctor, his nose red and runny and with a wide grin on his face. The doctor, a middle-aged man with sharp features and a bald head, scowled at him as he knelt over a single occupied bed, fiddling with his patient's wrist. The infirmary was empty, its windows boarded up and its white floors glistening wet. The doctor turned his attention back to his patient and finished wrapping his wrist.
"But seriously, the kid. He's gonna be fine, right?" Pete asked seriously, his grin dying and replaced by concern. He looked down at the bed's occupant to find a gaunt, emaciated face with sunken cheekbones and bone-thin arms. A short cropping of onyx-black, unbrushed and encrusted with small white beads of sea salt. And yet most curious of all which drew Pete's gaze, was the object he held in his thin, bony hand.
A sheathed blade that curved towards the tip. Similar to a sabre but too straight in the middle and too big to be wielded with one-hand. Its scabbard was stormy grey with flecks of gold streaking across in web-cracks and its handguard was a bone-white cross.
"It's going to be… Touch and go for a couple of days. I'm shocked he's still breathing now. Severely Malnourished, half-drowned, broken ribs and fractured bones in his legs and arms. I know marines that have died from less than whatever the hell this kid has been through."
"Yeah, yer tellin' me…" Pete huffed and wiped his snotty nose on his arm, "Ya just gonna let him keep the sword though?"
"He's got a tight grip on it and the last thing he needs are broken fingers," The doctor waved away his concern before his stern gaze landed on him.
"Also, why are you here anyway? You've got a cold, you'll get over it in a couple of days. Don't you have work to do?"
"I am workin'! I wanna be here when the kid wakes up. Don't ya think the first thing he should see when he wakes up is a friendly face and not ya mean ol' mug?"
"You rat piece of-!"
"Very lively for a place where people should be resting," The doors to the infirmary that had quietly opened were followed by a warm chuckle. Captain Lorick and Ensign Mara made their way over, the kindly old man smiling softly and the stern woman glaring at Pete.
"Chief Petty Officer Pete, is there a reason you're bothering Marcus from doing his job?"
"I ain't botherin' him, ma'am! Just keepin' him company and the like."
"Now, now, Pete. You've done enough for the young child now. Take the day off and get some rest before your cold becomes worse," Captain Lorick patted Pete's shoulder who adopted a hesitant air before he saluted lazily.
"Aye aye, cap'n'," Pete glanced once more at the half-dead child and took his leave. When he walked through the doors, Lorick turned his attention to the doctor and the patient.
"Will he wake up?" Lorick asked bluntly and Marcus grimaced, crossing his arms.
"No idea, captain. I've set up an IV drip to combat the dehydration and I've got to get a feeding tube ready. It could take anywhere from a couple of weeks to months. It isn't looking good for him."
"Do what you can, Marcus. If he's survived this long by himself, then it's up to us to make sure his efforts weren't in vain."
"Right you are, Captain. I'll ask Laura and see if she can't make any soft foods," Marcus took his leave when Lorick nodded, walking briskly away and leaving the two naval officers by themselves.
Lorick looked solemnly down at the stranger, a child holding onto a sword far too big for him, "Poor boy. I can't even begin to fathom what he must've gone through to be in such a state."
"Pirates, no doubt. Scum of the sea, hurting children like this. This sword is probably something he managed to take by pure luck," Mara spat out with venom etched into her words but Lorick shook his head.
"Now now, Mara. We don't know the full story yet. But the sword is interesting. I don't think I've ever seen one like this before," The marine captain stroked his chin in thought. He reached out to grab its handle and-
A shadow passed over the marine captain. A crash of clattering metal hit the wet floor. Sharp steel pressed against Lorick's neck and drew a thin bead of blood. The marine captain stared up into the eyes of his attacker and saw a pair of vivid, thunder-blue eyes glaring down at him with an overbearing drive.
"Captain!" Mara shouted out, frozen in pure shock. She snapped around and found the naked, skeletal form of the child kneeling on top of the old man with his far too big blade pressed against the naval officer's throat.
"Don't," The child didn't speak but instead he wheezed and rasped through cracked, dry lips, "Touch my sword."