Deep into the night, The Viper became a bit quieter, and the lights in the hull were extinguished slowly, indicating to Marcellus that people were resting.
Normally, it would have been his turn to stand watch for an hour tonight. But that was before he became known as the Wereshark-Slaying Pirate.
That's what notoriety gets you, I guess, he mused as he made his way to his modest quarters.
Before he could fully recline on his hammock which Finn generously offered him, however, a soft knock echoed from the wood. Curiosity mingled with slight apprehension, Marcellus rose to find Noah standing there, a piece of parchment in hand.
"The captain wishes to speak with you," he said, passing the note to Marcellus, which bore the unmistakable scrawl of Captain Crowe summoning him to his cabin immediately.
Marcellus found himself contemplating as he strode towards Captain Crowe's cabin, the wooden boards creaking beneath his boots. The atmosphere of the ship seemed to have grown denser, with the haunting chorus of the ocean's waves forming a symphonic backdrop to his thoughts.
Why me? What has made me stand out in Crowe's eyes? he pondered.
Why single me out? Does he know I'm a sword saint? What have I done to garner his attention?
He remembered the earlier encounter between Captain Crow and Vane.
Am I ready for this? he wondered.
Crowe's door was slightly ajar, a slice of dim light escaping from within. He rapped his knuckles against it, waiting for a response.
"Enter," came Crowe's voice, tinged with a depth that seemed to beckon like a magnet.
Marcellus stepped in to find the captain seated at a large wooden desk strewn with nautical maps, a half-empty bottle of rum, and a collection of small weaponry. The room smelled of salt, wood, and an undercurrent of something spicy—clove, perhaps, from a recently snuffed-out incense.
"Ah, Blackeyed, was it? Have a seat," Crowe gestured toward a stool opposite him.
Sitting down, Marcellus got right to the point. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"
Crowe leaned back in his chair, contemplating him as if appraising an intriguing artefact.
"I have been waiting for you, I've been watching you, Blackeyed. Your actions in the last raid, but it's not just your brawn that has caught my eye, you have something which interests me."
Marcellus' mind raced, he was sitting with a pirate captain in the middle of a sea trading words.
What else caught your mind? The damn captain was withholding information from the get-go.
Marcellus felt both honoured and scrutinized under Crowe's gaze, like an uncut gemstone awaiting valuation.
"Your praise honours me; I've endeavoured to contribute meaningfully."
Crowe smiled, with a hint of cynicism.
"Contribution is a matter of context. What serves the individual doesn't always serve the group, and vice versa. You witnessed the interaction between Captain Vane and me earlier today. What are your thoughts?"
Ah, the crux of the matter. Marcellus pondered momentarily before answering.
"It seemed like an alliance based on mutual self-interest rather than trust. A sort of unspoken understanding" He chose to be honest, he also wished to test the Captain.
Crowe nodded approvingly. "Very perceptive. That understanding, my young lad, is the adhesive that holds the pirate world together. It's a covenant of convenience, a handshake with hidden knives. Each man looks out for himself but knows that, for a brief period, goals can align, and fortunes can be made. So, here's my proposition: How would you like to take on a more significant role within the ship, perhaps as my second-in-command?"
The words hung in the air, weighty with implication. Marcellus realized that this was a critical juncture, a point where choices made would ripple into his future in unforeseeable ways.
His thoughts then drifted to the crew, the motley assemblage of rugged individuals who constituted their floating society. He thought of Noah, young but eager to fit the role of a seasoned sailor, a mirror in which Marcellus saw fragments of his own younger self. How would his relationship with the crew change if he accepted a position that set him apart from them? Responsibility could be a double-edged sword, bringing both respect and resentment in equal measure.
"Captain, I'm honoured. But what does this role entail, precisely? I also do not think I am experienced enough to be your second-in-command"
Crowe leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Marcellus's.
"It means you become privy to the inner workings of our operations. The alliances, the betrayals, the real high-stakes games that are often invisible to the crew. In return, I expect unwavering loyalty and your best judgment. You'll be closer to the helm, but also closer to the proverbial sword. Are you willing to take that risk?"
"Experience? Dismiss that notion! If experience were the sole key to success in piracy, then age would directly correlate with achievement. But that's not the case—just look at Charles Vane. He condescends to me because he sees himself as a 'true pirate,' while I'm merely a privateer contracted by an employer. Vane thrives on strength, while I get by on luck alone. But I have aspirations too. I long for the day when I can stand above both pirates and privateers as a force to be reckoned with. Your arrival is fortuitous; I've been awaiting someone like you."
On this quiet night, Marcellus understood that the offer to become the second-in-command was more than a promotion; it was an invitation into the society of pirates—a world he had only just begun to understand.
Taking a measured breath, he questioned, "I grasp the benefits for you, Captain. But what's in it for me?"
Crowe had yet to reveal the full scope, and Marcellus was determined to know more.
He is still hiding information still.