"The Pirate King. A figure so legendary some even think he might be a myth, but let me tell ye, Jacky boy, he was the real deal."
Lance laid back on the bar counter, placing his beer down and facing his crew, who were as attentive as I was. The bar was bustling, filled with pirates and marines alike, a rare mix that made the air crackle with tension.
"With a single swipe of his hands, he was able to single-handedly cower the sea beasts of large multitude. The only way the navy could tussle with him was through treaties. Not even the admirals were of his level. Not even your gramps. No offense."
I nodded, assuring no offense was taken.
"Back in those days," Lance continued, his eyes gleaming with the spark of old memories, "he ruled the seas not just with strength, but with a kind of charisma that drew people to him. Pirates, merchants, even some navy folk found themselves unable to resist his call. He was a beacon of freedom, adventure, and a kind of wild fun that made life worth living. They say he could charm the very waves to bend to his will."
The crew leaned in closer, hanging on every word. A group of marines at a nearby table shifted uncomfortably, exchanging uneasy glances.
"He wasn't just a brute, though. The Pirate King was a master tactician. He outsmarted fleets, plundered the most guarded treasures, and left his mark on every port from here to the edge of the known world. His name alone was enough to send shivers down the spine of the bravest men."
"What's his name?" one of the younger crew members asked, eyes wide with fascination.
Lance chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. "Ah, his name. Some say it was lost to time, others that he gave it up to become something more than just a man. But to those who sailed with him, he was simply the Pirate King. A name that carried the weight of legends."
One of the marines couldn't hold back any longer. He stood up, his face red with a mix of anger and curiosity. "If he was so powerful, why isn't he around anymore? What happened to this so-called Pirate King?"
The bar fell silent, all eyes on Lance. He took a long swig of his beer, letting the question hang in the air. "That's the thing about legends," he said finally, his voice soft but carrying across the room. "They're here one moment, and gone the next. The Pirate King... he died. But here's the sweet part. All his riches, all his power, the things he gathered—they say he took them with him to his death."
The crew murmured in astonishment, while the marines looked skeptical but intrigued.
"That's where the tale of the King's Tomb comes in," Lance continued. "Legend has it, he was buried with his treasures in a hidden tomb, a place no one has ever found. They say his spirit guards it, waiting for someone worthy to claim his legacy. His tomb is said to be filled with unimaginable wealth, powerful artifacts, and secrets of the sea itself."
Lance leaned forward, a glint in his eye. "And because of the good ole King's Tomb, that's why so many pirates are around these days. Isn't that right, sailor?" He directed his question at the marine who had spoken up.
The marine shifted uncomfortably under Lance's gaze, then sighed in defeat. "Aye, it's true. Many have taken to the seas in search of that treasure, hoping to find the tomb and claim the Pirate King's legacy."
"But where is this tomb?" I asked, my curiosity burning.
Lance smiled knowingly. "They say it lies in the New World."
A loud scoff came from another marine. "If that was so, the navy would have long found it. It's just a myth."
Lance turned to the marine, a bemused look on his face. "How long have ye been a marine, lad?"
The marine straightened up, trying to look tough. "A year and a half."
Lance burst into laughter, a hearty, infectious sound. "A year and a half! Lad, ye wouldn't know much of what goes on in the New World then. The Navy's barely scratched its surface."
The marine sat down, looking a bit embarrassed. The pirates around us nodded, raising their glasses in silent salute. The room buzzed with newfound energy, the legend of the Pirate King rekindling dreams and sparking ambitions. Lance then chucked down his beer, and took me by the shoulder
"Remember this, Jacky boy," Lance said, turning back to me. "Legends aren't born from nothing. They come from men who dared to dream bigger, fight harder, and live wilder than anyone else. The Pirate King was one such man. And if ye have even a spark of his spirit in ye, then you're destined for greatness too."