A pirate is a hero to his crew but a villain to the people.

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I peered through the cracked window. The sun rising out of Barcelona's cerulean horizon bathed the ocean with an orange glow. It was beautiful. I bit my lip, losing myself in thought. Every time she crossed my mind, my heart would pound wild like a tempest. She was truly one of a kind: I imagined myself exploring the infinite depths of her beauty. I imagined myself witnessing the grace of her form. With all this thinking, I heaved a deep sigh. Someday, I would definitely conquer her. Own her. Make her mine. Yes, I was in love. Madly in love with the sea.

A deep voice behind me started yelling suddenly. "-Son of a bloody wuss, Edward! What are you- Oh please, get your tiny arse movin' already! Tis' too early to be day dreamin' bout your childish fantasies! You know we've got tons of work to do!" I jumped off the barrel I was sitting on in an instant.

"Morning, Master Grant," I replied, bowing slightly and panting a little.

The dark skinned man nodded before sitting on a nearby stool, chewing his tobacco stub. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me while scratching his chin. Master was the town swordsmith, and I work at his shop as his apprentice. He always told me to call him Grant but I preferred calling him master. It felt more appropriate that way.

"Mornin'. Seems like you didn't get a wink of sleep, lad. Your entire face reflects horrible."

"Aye, master. Had to work on something really important."

Master raised his brows. I couldn't blame him though. Staying up all night just to work on something sounds suspicious enough. Without another word, I walked into the backroom of the cabin. This was where all the swords were kept. Rows of unfinished blades hung on the dusty brick wall. An old furnace sat on one corner, and a rusty anvil was beside it. But I had no business with the furnace or the anvil or swords right now. Instead, I approached a wooden chest beside the door. With care, I opened it and pulled out the only sword inside. Although the form was apparent, it wasn't finished yet. The blade had little jaggy edges, and the shape of the hilt unclear. Still, I brought the sword to Master.

"So, that's what you've been sweatin' to the bloody death last night? Well then, lemme' see if you actually got some craftsmanship in that frail body of yours. Gimme' that." He laughed, and I handed him the sword.

He started examining it, and my gut began to twist. To have my first piece judged by a prominent craftsman, I felt horrible. I even had an urge to snatch the sword and apply finishing touches for once. But it was pointless. A sword must be examined first before it could take its final form. Master's words were still clear in my mind: 'An unfinished sword is like a naked woman. You can see the elegance of her beauty and more importantly, you see her flaws. Therefore, you can only perfect the blade in its naked form. '

I had watched Master forge swords a countless number of times. Royal families would often stop by to avail of his services. A fair lot would also visit in random just to see and admire his works. I wasn't surprised. He was a swordsmith for a reason - he only made swords and the best ones too. Actually, a lot of people considered him the legendary craftsman of most of the greatest swords of this age.

"This is surprisin'ly a fine sword. Hmm, crystalized iron ore for the most part with weeny touches of adamant, eh? Not bad. Not bad at all. In fact, tis' quite impressive for a rookie," he said as he pinched the tip. "I like the balance between the metals although the design's rather disturbing..."

Master's brows arched together and his lips curved a little.

"Disturbing?"

"Putting the design aside, there's another even more disturbing problem..."

"What is it?"

I received no response.

"I'd rather you explain."

"The blade feels a bit light from the middle runnin' all the way to the tip."

All of a sudden, he sliced upwards and then slashed to the side. I stood frozen in shock, seeing that he ripped off a piece of my tunic. What was he thinking?! The metal missed my chest by a hair's tip! I was a lucky man!

"Bloody hell, Master! What was that for?!"

I could feel my nostrils flaring and my rage growing intense. I clenched my fists tightly that they trembled. However, Master only laughed and patted my head. He offered me the sword, smiling with his set of gold, upper teeth in full display.

"Sorry, lad. Didn't mean to scare you, really." Master was laughing fervently and almost choked on his tobacco.

"I could have died!"

"But you didn't, right? Still, that wasn't exactly my fault. To be honest, t'was the sword that was to blame. It's uncontrollable, slashing wild like a hungry beast. Felt light to hold but was actually heavy when I tried. Can I ask? Did you make it light on purpose? And also, I was thinkin'. You're not plannin' on sellin' this, are you? I don't sell half-assed swords and we all know that everybody hates half-assed swords."

His entire face morphed sober. I didn't reply as I took the sword away from him. It was devastating to have my work called half-assed. I shoved his hand away and eventually calmed down. Master smirked. He folded his arms on his hulking chest, and his expression hardened, obviously expecting an answer. I sighed, knowing that I needed to provide one.

"It's not for sale."

"Why make a sword then?"

"To become the best."

Interest flickered on the bulky man's hazel eyes.

"I've been practicing my swordplay in secret for a long time now, Master. Falchions, scimitars, rapiers, bastards, and every other form of blade in your shop, I've tried all of them. I want to become a great swordsman. It's about time I forge the perfect blade suited for me."

Was he convinced? I know that the idea of becoming a master swordsman was too absurd. And a blade could never be perfect. I expected him to laugh. Instead, he still had the hard-bitten look on his face. Master slouched back to the chair and rested his chin on his fist.

"Lemme' have a second look at that so-called perfect blade again."

I handed it to him, gulping. What kind of insult was he going to throw off this time? Master examined the sword more carefully than before. He brushed his fingers on the blade, probably inspecting the texture. Then he struck the hilt with his palm, and leveled it with his eyes to check the balance. After he was done, a suspicious smile dominated his thick lips.

"Hah! Eureka! You can't fool me, boy. True enough, this might just come close to a perfect blade but you don't want to become a great swordsman."

Both of my brows rose in question. "What makes you say that?"

He lifted the sword in level with his chest, one hand on the hilt, and the other on the tip. Somehow, I felt uneasy. Was there a problem with the merging of iron and adamant? Does the handle complement the length of the blade? Or worse, did he realize the blade's true purpose? A lot of questions swarmed my mind in an endless loop. I was confident enough that I crafted the sword with extreme care. Surely, there should be nothing wrong with it unless he'd uncover the secret behind its design. My heart began to thump a pace faster. The look on his eyes seemed to agree.

Because of the slight curvature from the center to the tip." Master traced his fingers half way through the gray metal. "At first glance, one would easily get tricked into thinkin' that this is just an ordinary falchion. Well, one who does so is a bloody idiot 'cause when you hold the grip, you'll realize it's actually a different weapon. A blade with a strong intent to cut masked in a design impervious to assassination. Bloody brilliant."

"Uhm, I don't quite follow, Master," I pretended to say, gnashing my fingernails.

"Oh yes you do. You've been livin' under my roof for years, lad. And I've been forgin' swords for as long as I can remember. I know what kind of sword is this. Commonly used by criminals of the seas - a cutlass. Your dream isn't exactly to become a master swordsman, Edward. You want to become a pirate."

And there was a moment of ambiguous silence.

Everything he said was right on point and there's no denying it. The sword explained it all and he seemed really upset. Master sighed then clenched his jaws, waiting for an explanation. I wanted to reply but only managed to gulp. The mention of piracy itself was considered a crime. To learn that his sole apprentice wanted to walk a criminal's path, he must be thinking ill of me. What would he do? Would he disown me? Or worse, would he turn me over to the authorities?

To my surprise, none of my speculations hit the mark. Instead, he offered me back the sword. "Let's go to the basement. We have something to talk about in private."

Between Master and me, private sounds suspicious enough.

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Question: Do you think a becoming a pirate is worth it?

Hello! I know it's been a while but I'm back and alongside my return is this new story about pirates! I do hope you will continue to read this and embark on an epic journey with Edward through perilous seas, dangerous weather, strange islands and more!

The next chapter will be uploaded on Friday or Saturday. Stay tuned!