Captain Crowe reclined in his chair, his lips curling into an enigmatic smile, exuding a confidence that suggested he had Marcellus cornered.
"I can't disclose the full extent of the rewards that await you. But know this: mere knowledge of certain secrets grants you an immense advantage."
"Decline my offer, and my employer will make you an offer that you can't refuse."
Marcellus felt a surge of agitation course through him."You've told me absolutely nothing of significance."
Amused by Marcellus's boldness, Crowe chuckled. "Let me elucidate. Take, for instance, our recent haul. I wasn't the one who located the ship we plundered. Seventy percent of the loot goes to my employer, Charles Vane takes another 20%, and a a tenuous 10% is left for me and my crew. The share may seem sizable, but it pales in comparison to the risks we take."
Disappointment settled like a stone in Marcellus's stomach. He had already begun to envision a future with new weapons, different attire, and a plethora of other essentials. Those dreams now appeared tenuous.
Crowe, ever so perceptive, caught the flicker of disillusionment that crossed Marcellus's face. "You're a novice in this game. As it stands, I operate on a 70-30 split with my employer. But my aspirations soar much higher. By nature, a pirate craves more."
"Sod the Imperial fleet, sod my contractors. In the current scheme, for every shilling you pocket, They'd make six hundred. That's hardly the path to wealth."
"I'm not interested in accruing a fortune," Marcellus lied through his teeth, a sharp edge colouring his voice.
Crowe's eyes narrowed, visibly irked by the response. "It's not about need, Blackeyed. Don't you have ambitions? Don't you wish to wield control over your destiny?"
"Manifesting one's destiny isn't a privilege; it's an obligation, especially for men like us," Crowe continued, his gaze intense, eyes pools of darkness in the dimly lit chamber.
Marcellus took a moment to process Crowe's words, his gaze shifting to the nautical maps that adorned the table. Lines and routes crisscrossed over oceans and islands—the geography of opportunities and pitfalls. It was as if Crowe's own ambitions were drawn on those sheets, but the lines led to questions, not answers.
What did Crowe actually want? And what did he want with Marcellus?
"Before I can consider your offer," Marcellus began cautiously, "I'd like to understand the nature of your employer. What does the 70-30 split entail? Is it just financial, or are there other obligations that come with it?"
Crowe let out a soft laugh, not one of mockery but of acknowledgement.
"Ah, you're smarter than you let on. My arrangement is primarily financial, but it carries implicit expectations of loyalty and certain... strategic favours. However, I am expendable to our employer. I am a means to an end, and if I can't negotiate a better deal, I will remain in this undignified position."
"And you believe I can help tip the scales in our favor?" Marcellus asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.
He was intrigued, but also wary. The world of piracy was a slippery slope of shifting loyalties and murky ethics.
Crowe leaned in, placing his palms flat on the table. "You've already begun to change it, Blackeyed. Your actions, your combat prowess—those aren't common. I see in you the makings of not just a pirate, but a leader who can inspire men."
For a brief moment, Marcellus felt a flush of pride. But then his thoughts shifted back to the crew.
What would the priestess think? How would the others respond to such a sudden rise through the ranks?
Leadership was a chalice that could easily become poisoned by jealousy and resentment.
Crowe seemed to sense Marcellus's internal dilemma. "Listen, I get it. This can be both a boon and a curse. But the rewards are immense. With greater influence, you'll can reshape the lives of everyone on this ship, to set a new course for your life. Loyalty is important"
Marcellus took a deep breath, staring at the half-empty bottle of rum on the table. A decision loomed before him—a crossroads in his life that would shape not only his destiny but also that of the crew.
Looking back at Crowe, determination filling his eyes, Marcellus said, "If I agree to be your second-in-command, explain how this benefits me. From what I see, it serves your interests."
Crowe's eyes twinkled, "Blackeyed. If you join me, you'll gain not just wealth and status, but also an opportunity to become an aspirant with superpowers."
Marcellus inhaled sharply. Superpowers! This had been his dream since childhood. When younger, his priestess in Wisbech had chosen him to become a marked under the God of Combat. He had failed then but now saw a glimmer of hope.
"Superpowers, you say? what kind?" Marcellus held Crowe's gaze, his heart pounding.
Marcellus held his breath in the last sentence.
superpowers! He decided to stay with the crew solely for this reason, he suspected Captain Crowe had abilities of some kind like his priestess.
When he was younger his priestess from Wisbech had tried to train him so he could get a stigma of the Church of Combat.
She had picked him, Kenric and other children mostly orphans or kids missing parents from Wisbech to train with the sword he barely lasted a week... which was really hard for a 13-year-old boy, he ran away to work for the innkeeper in Drunkards' Haven.
However, now Captain Crowe was talking about getting powers and he dared to imagine that he could pull it off.
Crowe smiled slowly "I can not say more, make your choice?"