Enlightened Empire Chapter 17 Three Captains

A partner to the winds around him, Atau swept across the deck, tipping the balance of each fight in favor of the defenders. As soon as the warrior got involved, none of the mutineers could even provide token resistance. Oh, there had been a few proper fighters aboard, men who had gone through pirate attacks, or had engaged in the ign.o.ble trade themselves, and had the scars to prove it. However, even they were nothing but children before the sheer force of Atau's cultivated power.

With a simple tackle of his shoulder, the warrior forced the large man before himself back onto the stairs to the quarterdeck. Winded from the impact and confused by the inhuman strength he had fallen victim to, the sailor took a few seconds to push himself back up. It was more than enough time for Atau to close in and bring down the b.l.o.o.d.y saber in his hand.

In desperation, the man managed to bring his own weapon between Atau and his fragile body, but it wouldn't be enough. The force of the hit alone was enough to smash aside the enemy's blade, before Atau's weapon embedded itself deep in the mutineer's chest. As he removed his weapon, the warrior did his best to ignore the dying man's eyes. However, the sailor's rib cage was as tenacious as the sailor himself. Even as Atau increased his strength, the bones and muscle would not let go of the blade. Tormented by continuous strain, the cheap iron saber broke off, leaving a raw blade stuck inside of its last victim. Without remorse, the warrior dropped the broken handle. It was soon succeeded by the weapon the dead man had dropped just moments ago.

*No loyalty in a blade,* Atau thought as he studied his new weapon, up and down. More of a short sword than a saber, but the pointy end would still work just the same. At last, with a weapon returned to his hand, the warrior turned to look over the results of his rampage. Even before he saw them, he could hear them in his ear. Screams of pain and desperation, from men who had been at the wrong end of a battle, for the first and last time in their lives. Lying here and there in puddles of blood, some in search of lost limbs, the mutineers showed the full extent of human misery. Shocked, lost and confused stood the survivors, sprinkled around what was left of the mutiny, without rhyme or reason.

Most of the crew had been hit by total surprise and still had a hard time grasping the new roles of their former colleagues, but a few still knew what had to be done. The few men who were still alive, but too injured to save, received the coup de grâce they had been hoping for. Finally, the entire main deck had been cleaned of vermin. Not one mutineer had been left alive.

"Lower the sails" first mate Atau shouted.

At last, all eyes focused on the monster who had single-handedly decided the battle in their favor. In the eyes of the crewmen, he could sense just as much fear as grat.i.tude.

"You got salt.w.a.ter in your ears? If we don't wanna shatter on those cliffs around us, at least we should slow the s.h.i.+p down, right? Drifting is better than sinking! So get a move on you wimps, and cut those sails!"

At last, the first of the men moved, one of the brave ones who had relieved the final mutineers of their duties. Orin, Atau remembered. A loud and spirited "aye aye" put the others out of their catatonic state as well and soon, the men became preoccupied with work again, too busy to consider what had happened. With a short nod towards Atau, Orin spoke his silent acknowledgment of their temporary leader. His message made clear, he went over to another group of crewmen and began to talk in a spirited manner. However, none of it mattered to Atau. There was still work to be done up above.

*Just one more place,* the warrior thought as he took the steps over the corpse and up to the quarterdeck. There, he would find the captain, and the s.h.i.+p's steering. Whatever else was going on, they would have to get control of the Delahlia back before the cliffs did irreversible damage to the s.h.i.+p. As he stepped up, he saw the full extend of the damage. The attackers had concentrated their betrayal here, to get swift power over the s.h.i.+p's controls and subvert the captain before anyone could interfere. With the captain's life in their hands, they would have had a much easier time getting their terms across, and it would have been far easier to force the crew into submission.

However, their plans had gone wrong, horribly so. No one else on the s.h.i.+p would know, since captain Rickert was not known for a hands-on approach, but as his first mate over the past two weeks, Atau had become privy to his secret. The captain, who had always been so disciplined and never fought anyone, was in fact a former knight, a cultivator himself. A man of honor and strength, who would never yield to such a cowardly attack. Thus, he found the quarterdeck in much the same state the main deck down below.

The was.h.i.+ng waves created streaky patterns in the red-coated floorboards, as men were begging for death, and given the grace by their former mates. However, here the battle had ended in favor of the mutineers. No matter how good a cultivator Rickert had been, the numbers on the quarterdeck had been far too unbalanced. Thus Atau found the captain, covered in streaks of red, with a saber in his side, leaned against the s.h.i.+p's stern.

Though his always alert, emerald eyes aimed straight at his first mate, they had lost their sheen, staring into nothing, or into the world beyond. The captain was dead. Around him stood the ones at fault for this ma.s.sacre, for this injustice. Old John, Polder and the rest of their gang of reverers. In the end, only half a dozen had survived the ferocious defense the captain had launched for his s.h.i.+p and crew. Even the ones left with their lives looked exhausted or injured. In the end, it was Atau's loud steps and his heavy breathing which alerted them to his presence. He wouldn't sneak up on them. There was no need.

"As low as any man can sink. You've lost the right to call yourselves sailors," the warrior's heavy voice droned out.

"What do you know, you big b.a.s.t.a.r.d!? See that knife? I killed the captain! That means I'm the new boss now!" Polder, all proud of himself, pointed to the corpse of Rickert, and to the saber stuck in his side. From the blade's angle, it was obvious that the final blow had been made from the back.

*Coward.*

"Now what, big b.a.s.t.a.r.d? Speechless?" With a grin on his face, the mutineer picked up the mace before Rickert's feet. Atau had seen the crazy weapon before. Eight giant p.r.o.ngs of metal around a metal shaft, it was the captain's weapon of choice, which must have taken more than a few lives in its final fight with its master. Now, the captain's killer had picked up the captain's weapon, to show his own ambitions. In support, old John stepped forward as well. Of course the shrewd oldie would be fine after the battle. If nothing else, at least his age showed that he knew how to survive.

"The captain's dead, and we'll need someone to lead the s.h.i.+p through the currents and past the Cape. Who's gonna do that if not us? We got the most days at sea anyways."

"You're tryin' to fight us on this, you big b.a.s.t.a.r.d?" Polder shouted out. Meanwhile, the other four surviving reverers rose as well and built themselves up behind their new captain, like a king's royal guard. It was an attempt to intimidate Atau, to make him submit under their crazy plan, but the warrior would never bow. He could feel the biting in his empty stomach, and the cramps in his legs. Though cultivation gave him strength beyond mortals, it drained his energy as well. He would have to end this soon. The first mate was ready to take on the last remnants of mutineers, when he heard steps come up the stairs in his back.

Though there were foes right before him, Atau allowed himself a swift look over the shoulder, to rea.s.sess his position. Up the stairs came Orin, leading a group of crewmen with him. A total of eight sailors had picked up weapons left from the slaughter on the main deck and followed him up to here.

"Who're you kidding, you b.a.s.t.a.r.ds? While you were tryin' to take over and got the whole s.h.i.+p in trouble, the big guy here did his best to save our a.s.ses. Why would I follow you on anything?" His head raised and his arms crossed, Orin built himself up besides Atau, ready to support the new leader he had chosen for himself.

Like snow under the summer sun, Polder's confidence melted and was replaced by visible unease. With a frown, he looked over the superior numbers of his new enemies. At this point, he should consider his options; if trying to force his will was worth the risk. Atau, on the other hand, knew that the fight was very much over. Polder had lower numbers and the mood aboard the Delahlia had tilted in Atau's favor. There was no reason to prolong the battle, really. They barely had enough people to operate the s.h.i.+p as was. Thus, he decided to make the decision easier for Polder. The tall warrior stepped forward, armed with a dangerous grin.

"You know, where I come from, we don't solve these sorts of things by stabbing each other in the back. We fight it out in a duel, one on one, like real men. You say you killed the captain, right? Well, in that case, all I have to do is kill you, huh? How about this: We fight it out right here, man on man. Let the greater warrior prevail and lead the s.h.i.+p and crew to safety."

Polder's beady eyes rolled in their sockets as he calculated his chances. Of course, the sailor was terrible at math, so he soon managed to reach the wrong conclusion.

"All right, I'm in!" Polder said, as he swung the captain's giant mace in the air, "I'll teach you all what happens if you don't follow my commands! Come here, you fat b.a.s.t.a.r.d, and let me break your thick skull!"

With a smirk, Atau looked behind the fake captain, over to old John. The survival expert had realized that Polder was being full of himself, as he usually was. He tried to hold back the moron, grab his shoulder, but John's old body slowed his actions. Before he could even get close to Polder, the new captain had already charged at the old first mate.

Another wild charge, like Atau had seen so many of over the course of the battle. Rather than charge himself, the warrior improved his stance as he waited for the eager captain to come to him. He knew that the mace wasn't Polder's weapon. He also knew that it would be the sailor's undoing. In the end, the whole affair took mere moments to complete, only a single step forward at the right moment. Overwhelmed by the weight of the weapon, Polder failed to even finish his swing by the time he collided with Atau. While the mace's handle weakly collided with Atau's side, the warrior grabbed the traitor's collar and pushed him to the ground. No technique or finesse was required, only strength. Once his back hit the boards, Polder got the mace between himself and the superhuman warrior.

"Stay away you beast!" he shouted, as he limply swung the weapon in front of his nose. In response, the warrior grabbed the mace's handle near the head and pulled. With one simple movement, he had disarmed the fake captain. A cultivator against a mortal. This had never been a fair fight.

"No, I-" he wouldn't even let the traitor beg for his life. With a swift hit from the stolen weapon, Atau crushed the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's face. Now, not even his parents would recognize his corpse. It was exactly what the beast deserved.

As the warrior raised his body again, Atau looked towards the final reverers on deck, who had huddled together, their eyes transfixed by Atau's ruthless actions, terrified.

"Anyone else got a problem with me calling the shots!?" the warrior shouted out into the rigging.

"No captain!" he heard Orin's voice again, who took the chance to confer Atau his new t.i.tle. Soon, the shouts of other sailors followed. There was not a single voice of dissent. Confused, the new captain stared down onto the mace in his hands, the weapon every captain of the Delahlia had carried, all three of them.

"Captain Atau," he heard from behind himself. He turned and saw Orin close in. "What do we do with the mutineers?" With a nod of his head, Orin gestured towards the five remaining reverers, old John among them. Atau thought for a second. Taking them out right here would be the cleanest solution. However, the men in question still had been comrades to the crew for many months, and in some cases years. Killing them in cold blood could send a dangerous first signal to his new crew. Still, he couldn't just keep them around. No matter what, the reverers had to go.

"Put them on a dinghy and set them free. Let the currents judge them." With a deep voice, Atau looked at old John, the man who had taught him his craft more than anyone else. He tried to find a trace of comfort reflected in his eyes, maybe remorse, maybe regret. However, all he could see was bitter hatred.

"Orin, from now on, you're my first mate. Keep the s.h.i.+p steady and send some men under deck to a.s.sess the damage to the hull. I'll see to our next course." His orders given, Atau left the upper deck to disappear into the captain's quarters. He would have to check the maps and try to get them through the currents somehow. Responsible for the remaining souls on board, s.h.i.+p leaking and under strength, it was a challenge he was less than ready for.