^^ Ben's new Sword ^^

— Ben —

I was forced to swiftly reevaluate my opinion of Reginald, as he had seemed weak, before. Mentally, sure, he was indomitable and rather intimidating in a battle of strategy, but he was still a twig that I'd been trying to put muscle on this past month. However, there was a clean deftness and speed to his movements that belied his small size, much reminiscent of a striking desert snake; it was a skill worth having.

He held in his vomit admirably, looking away from what was likely the first man he'd ever killed, then picked up the man's bronze hangar, glaring at the rest of the crew with his icy blue eyes. "There's more coming! Get ready!" He snapped authoritatively, and they made room for him as he moved to stand next to me.

"That is a Very Pretty knife." I commented casually, nodding to the long ivory dagger he'd cleaned and placed back on his belt.

He glanced at it, then pulled an even longer, heavier twin out of his jacket, -sized for my hand it seemed,- and handed it to me. "That one's yours. From the bones of the Black Dog." He muttered.

I examined it, grinning at the prospect of a new blade. It was balanced towards the tip, with a slashing and hacking aspect much like a Naval hangar, which I liked. A thick triangular-shaped tip and wedged-blade made it look almost like a Stake, while the solid spine and thick handle seemed designed for it to be hammered like a chisel. It was a very multipurpose blade, with more weight to it than a steel blade of comparable size, despite its ivory components, all of which I thoroughly appreciated. I remembered the task at hand, and placed it in my chest-holster, across from my revolver. "The Dog, you say? Many Thanks! She's a fine blade, especially for being made all of bone! How'd you manage that?" I asked, redirecting his thoughts from the bleeding corpse that was laying on the deck.

"A very hot fire, very strong acid, a titanium cauldron with cold iron plating, and a chisel blessed by seven different priests. No human means will ever chip or crack that blade... you need a blade such as that to kill most demons and monsters in a melee." He sighed, readying the sword he'd taken from the dead man as a grappling hook caught the rail.

"Curious... well, here's a lesson as a Salt! See this hook? When should I cut it?" I asked, walking over and sitting on the rail, watching the men on the other ship haul on the line.

"Well... considering our options, would you rather we destroy the ship before or after they board us?" He asked, looking in his jacket for something.

"Oh we don't necessarily care, one way or another; we usually like to preserve the ships for the navy, but it's not something to worry about." I caught another hook, tossing it back at them and braining the man who'd thrown it.

Reginald nodded, muttering in Latin as he poured a small amount of rum into a glass vial of some other liquid, and corked it, shaking it violently. "Duck." He warned me calmly, and pitched the vial at the enemy ship's wheel.

I watched in awe as it burst into a mist of liquid fire, and the helmsman screeched, diving into the water to douse the fire all over his face and chest. "What... was that?" I asked slowly.

He shrugged, pouring more rum into another silverish bottle, and throwing it at the main mast of the enemy ship, which instantly began being consumed by a raging chemical-infused inferno, any sailor's biggest fear. "It's just a mixture of liquid magnesium and sodium iodide, -all totally stable,- then rum for an accelerant. It melts even the most hardened of steel, and it burns even under water." He tossed a third glass, smashing on the stern and igniting, burning even under the waterline, just like he'd said.

I shivered. "Don't spill any of that on the ship... where did you get that?"

He raised an eyebrow at me slowly. "I made it. If you paid attention when I explained chemistry to you, you'd already know this. And my hands are incredibly steady, even on this deck; I'm not spilling anything, much less volatile chemicals."

"He is correct... such fires have been briefly explained in your tutoring... and it smells rather delicious; freshly smoked meat is a rare delicacy at sea." Cleo hummed.

"Huh... I apologize for not paying attention, then... excuse me!" I spotted the fire trying to chase up the ropes that were connected to our ship, and hurriedly chopped one of them, whistling to the others and pointing at the two remaining ropes. They leapt to cut them swiftly, and I watched in awe as the entire ship, -barely thirty meters long,- was engulfed in blue and green flames.

The remaining ship, which had likely reloaded in the interim, instead chose to throw up a bloodstained white flag as the flame lit up the surrounding stormy waters for half a League. Even the clouds above us were turned slightly blue by the light, a simultaneously surprising and terrifying notion. He'd lit up the Sky itself with that liquid fire.

He glanced at me, then Cleo, speaking Latin softly, which I was still learning. After listening for a moment, she perked up and purred happily at whatever he'd said, then disappeared over the side, to my surprise.

"Captain, they've surrendered. Shall we board them and hang them for piracy?" I ignored their private chat, and looked up at Adrian, as she considered her options.

"We're not in English Waters, Ben, but rather Portuguese; Piracy is less harshly penalized, here. We can't legally hang them, but branding and gelding, that we can do." She grinned, and turned us to slowly come alongside them. "Take two men, then, and the little firebug." She added.

I nodded and whistled down the men I needed, both gunmen from the Colonies, and armed as such with the new weapons the Cardinal had issued us. "Lockwood, Brine, rig up a dinghy to accept their surrender! Take the ammunition you need to clear the deck, should we need to do so! Gilles, Laurent, Finley, Collins, have rifles aimed at the ship and crew the entire time, scan the rigging and crows nest for muskets or cannonades!"

The named men nodded and worked together to pull a dinghy out from under a spare yard, setting it into the sling that would lower it over the side with all of the military precision we demanded, on this ship. After it was ready, they were given a belt of ammunition each by the quartermaster, and had their weapons checked thoroughly, as was proper. A misfired weapon could be the very bad end of a conflict, after all, which was why the Doctor demanded all his sailors know how to use both a saber and a rifle.

I checked my own weapons as we waited to pull within range, and handed Reginald one of the pistols I'd had etched with the Red Cross by the Doctor. "Here. That one's for you, the doctor had both of them, uh... annotated, I think is the word."

"Anointed? I've never heard of a firearm being made Holy, before... Ah, the bullets are coated in holy oil." He nodded, and closed the wheel. "Thank you, Benjamin. Weapons are a thoughtful gift, at least to a Hunter."

I nodded and gave him the harness that would hold it and his knife on his ribs, hidden under his jacket. "Slip that on quickly; it's for a knife and a pistol." I showed him mine, lifting the sides of my jacket, and he nodded, swiftly outfitting himself and pulling his dustcoat back on.

We pulled alongside the ship, pointing all 62 of the starboard side's cannons at them threateningly, and I grinned at the bright backlight that made the entire ship quite visible, a welcome change to fighting in the dark.

I tipped my hat to Adrian as we pulled within fifty meters, and stepped into the boat. "I'll fetch their Captain and First Mate for you, Captain Cole; that way the boys can see what happens to them up close."

She nodded. "Good. We'll be placing them all in the brig, and sending their ship to the Mediterranean Fleet for a purse from the admiralty, so try not to damage it, if you can?"

I laughed and kicked the lever to the winch, letting the boat descend on the crane. "Now when have I ever damaged a captive ship?!?"

Her shaking head was the last I saw of her as we descended quickly, splashing onto the rocking waves. The sling was detached and risen up in short order, and the four of us began rowing towards the stalled ship with relative ease, though Reginald had trouble dragging the oar properly, as small as he was.

The enemy ship was low enough that we didn't need a winch to board, but rather a very short rope ladder, short enough that we could see onto the ship if we stood in the boat, but I still boarded first, in case they decided to attempt to take us hostage, as they often did in these scenarios. Terribly pathetic, every time, really.

Predictably, the group of raggedy pirates drew their variously rusted or chipped or similarly unkempt blades, pointing them at me in a clear threat, and I chuckled, shaking my head at the men reaching for the ladder under me. "Aim for their kneecaps, if you would? The Captain would like them crippled, not dead."

The two gunmen I'd brought for this purpose nodded, firing quickly and efficiently to cap the knees of the men in front, surprising the pirates and even myself; the guns were louder than I'd expected, though nothing compared to Naval Cannons.

I waited patiently for them to loose all twelve shots each, effectively capping almost every sailor aboard the vessel, and when they began reloading, I smiled at the man behind the group of groaning men, dressed in better clothing and a tricorn with a French Plumed Feather, drenched as it was. "You are the Captain, Yes?" I asked calmly.

He slowly took his hat off, tossing his sword onto the ground in front of me in a very rude approximation of surrender. "Oui, je suis le Capitaine de ce navire, le Lyon..."

I waved the others up onto the ship with me, then picked up the sword, examining it closely. It was a very pretty blade; the steel cup-guard sported golden plating and an ivory handle, with a molded gold lions head on the hilt. The blade itself was in excellent condition, as sharp as flint, and covered in very strange marbling that I recognized from my brief stay in Damascus; a very valuable blend or forging method that made their steel stronger per pound than other types. The beautiful blade was likely stolen from a French or Ottoman nobleman of some sort, or an heirloom of the the original owner of this ship, the 'Lion'.

Once Reginald was standing next to me, I hung the blade on my belt. "Usually, I'd return this to him, as a sign of gentlemanly respect and etiquette, but his disrespect of the White Flag and Parlay removes him of that respect." I explained calmly. The captain looked mildly enraged that I hadn't returned the blade to him, but kept his mouth shut when he looked at the majority of his men on the ground, hurrying to staunch the bleeding of their knees.

Reginald nodded. "Right, I read that if he surrenders politely, he can be executed as a gentleman, instead of hung as a pirate."

"Correct, were we in English Waters!" I nodded. "Now as we are in Portuguese waters, they won't Hang today, but they'll be branded as Pirates, and then Hung should they ever enter English Waters. They'll also be Gelded, at the personal opinion of the Captain for pirates is that they are, almost to a man, rapers and pillagers, and removing their balls and cocks also makes them far less likely to stage a mutiny whilst in our Brig." I explained.

The captain's face went white, and he eyed the water in what he thought was a secretive manner; he likely preferred a death in the cold waters than the knife, but that was the point, after all. He took a step, and Reginald sprang forward like a cobra, grabbing the man by the collar and kicking his feet out from under him. As he fell, his collar caught his throat, in a manner that knocked him out almost instantly, and Reginald dropped him face-first on the deck.

"I imagine that was what I was supposed to do? Not killing him?" He asked curiously.

"Correct. Now, where'd the First Mate? Eh? Who here is the First Mate of the Lyon?" I kicked one of the men in the side, and he screamed, clutching suddenly broken ribs. "Oops... stronger than before, I'll have to watch out for that." I muttered.

One of the men struggled to his feet, leaning against the mast, and raised a hand laboriously. "I... I am Henshaw, First Mate of the Lyon. I will guide the ship, and I will not run, if it is promised that the crew will not be maimed any further than the brand we are owed?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "No, you lost the right to parlay when you drew swords under the white flag, Pirate. Lockwood? Tie that one and the captain up, load them onto the boat, and take them back to the Ship. Brine, the Lyon is yours to watch, for now. Search the captain's quarters for any letters, maps, or coin, and give them to Reginald so he can read them and determine their worth. The coin goes back to the ship for distribution amongst the crew as our prize. Then transport the crew to the Brig of the IronHeart, four at a time, and attach a tow line to the back of the IronHeart; this ship's sails don't look like they'll last much longer."

They both saluted, setting about as I'd ordered swiftly, with Reginald and Brine heading into the small cabin that had to be the captain's quarters. They returned swiftly, carrying a sheaf of papers and maps and a large, heavy sea-chest. "The Captain will want to know about this, in particular." Reginald handed me a letter, written in French.

I squinted at it, reading while moving my lips to sound out the foreign tongue, and raised an eyebrow. "Four Thousand French Silver Pounds? That's not possibly correct, is it?" I asked incredulously.

He nodded, and opened the chest, showing me the various sacks of silver. "Someone paid them to lure us in. The captive Captain will likely tell us, or those letters will."

I nodded slowly. "Yes, you're right... load all this into the boat, we'll take the chest, the captain, and the First Mate on the first trip. Brine, Lockwood, keep order on this ship, and start the prisoner transfers. The doctor will want to look at their wounds as soon as possible. Once you're back on the ship, your silence about this matter, -until such a time as the Captain gives leave to speak of it,- is expected."

They saluted crisply, though still glancing at the chest in awe.

I threw the trussed captain and First Mate into the dinghy, carefully lowering the chest in, then I watched the boat settle into the water from the weight, and frowned. "It May be best not to load it up fully, this run... that silver weighs as much as three fully grown men."

Reginald nodded. "I'll see you on the ship." He took a step back, then sprinted at the edge, leaping off as I reached for him... and then disappeared into the air.

Lockwood gasped, smacking Brine's shoulder repeatedly. "Did you see that?!?"

"I... hope that was the grog." Brine gulped slowly.

I didn't answer, starting to row the dinghy back towards our ship. As soon as I sat down, though, I heard a dull 'thunk', and looked up to find Reginald hanging from the railing, his nose visibly bleeding. I chuckled and shook my head as he pulled himself up, rowing over and whistling for the boat-sling.

Cleo purred suddenly, speaking in my ear as we were slowly raised by the winch. "Now... you can definitely afford Stone..."

I smiled and pet her ears. "Indeed, my dear. I will give you a stone house, with a silk cushion, Alright? I don't know how much more I can manage with my share of this."

She grumbled softly for a moment. "You should have it all... you achieved the victory. You and Reginald. You should share it with him, and perhaps Lockwood and Brine, as they assisted you..."

"The Law of Spoils is clear, and I'm not arguing them with you." I stated sternly, frowning at her.

She huffed, settling into my collar to sulk. "Yes, Yes... our honor is to be taken into account as well... it was just a thought."

"Indeed, min forgylt Cleopatra, just a thought." I smiled and scratched her ears a little as she purred at the pet name, and we slowed to a halt, the crane swinging us inward, now over the deck, then lowering us into the setting for this dinghy.

Adrian raised an eyebrow at me as I dragged the two men and carried the chest on my shoulder towards her, but didn't comment as Reginald sat inside the doorframe, reading all the letters from the captain's quarters to find more mention of the payment. He found what he was looking for, it seemed, as he frowned darkly, and translated the text to English, handing it to her as she came out of the rain to read it.

Her expression turned thunderous, and the paper crinkled in her grip. "You're telling me... that the letters that we are transporting... are, in fact, French/English War Plans?" She growled quietly, containing herself just barely.