Dragon's Tale 1 (Patreon)

I usually enjoyed the smell of the sea, but today, at the docks of the Londinium, the biggest city of the colonial island of Britanium, my enjoyment was ruined by the disgusting miasma of the many thousands people and livestock, entering and exiting hundreds of the ships that filled the harbor. It was such a crowd that even the various spells and enhancements that were supposed to keep air clear had failed; though I doubt they were cast according to requirements, for the Governor, money saved by using a substandard core was much more important than the comfort of the lower classes, after all. 

I couldn’t say that I blamed him. After all, this port was dedicated to goods of limited value such as food, livestock, and low-quality magical crystals. It was filled with plebs, slaves, rejects, and occasional freedmen; none of them justified the expense of establishing a wide-scale cleansing field. 

It was a pity that I had to suffer through it despite not belonging to any of those groups. Though not a lot of people would agree that my status was a significant improvement compared to other dregs of society. After all, I was a bastard. The fact that I was a Noble bastard did little to soften the blow, especially since my situation had another fact that made it even worse. My noble blood didn’t come from my father’s side, applying the long-respected tradition of stress relief with a common lady. No, in my case, it was my mother who strayed. In the Empire, the family was everything, and I was a double-disgrace because I was an eternal reminder of my mother’s misstep. Scorn from others was the best I received, things usually devolved into physical assault quickly, both in the family estate and outside. 

I didn’t know about the reason for my mother’s decision, as she had died in childbirth, as no one ever bothered to talk me about that. Maybe it was a night of alcohol-fueled folly, or maybe it was forbidden love. I tried, of course, but I only had my grandfather, who was the patriarch of the family, to ask about it. I did, but my grandfather never explained, and after the third extra-painful ‘training’ session that left me unable to move for a week, I have stopped asking. 

Grandfather, I thought with mixed feelings. Even now, two years after his death, I still don’t know how to feel about that man. On the other hand, he had the power to stop people from messing with me, but he never did, giving his implicit approval so even the servants hadn’t had any fear to take shots whenever they found the opportunity. On the other hand, he personally trained me, training that he kept hidden from anyone else, a training that left me bordering the lands of Pluto more than once, but despite all these close calls, it made me strong… 

Then, three years ago, he had taken an unbelievable decision. He personally sponsored my admission to the Halls of Jupiter, the most important center of magical education, limited only to a select number of noble scions had shown a great promise. 

A bunch of high nobles, and me, a double-disgraced bastard. Predictably, it was painful three years, where I had to hide, steal, cheat, and overall, act like a complete waste of space that was unable to gather more than a couple of sparks, just to survive. It was a lesson I learned back in my family estate. I either played the pathetic clown, so everyone limited themselves to painful and humiliating assaults whenever they were bored, otherwise writing me off as worthless, or I could show my true potential to be a danger, the case which everyone would do their best to kill me before my abilities could come to full fruition. 

I had chosen the first, which, incidentally, was the only reason I was able to survive. Because a year into my schooling, my grandfather had died, and with him, I had lost the last scrap of protection I had back in my family. With my uncle as the Patriarch, my death in the family estate was a certainty. He had made his wishes to remove the ‘disgrace’ clear more than once back in the family estate. The only reason he didn’t arrange for an assassination when I was in school because it would have been unbelievably costly, it wasn’t worth to get rid of a bastard, no matter how disgraceful his presence was. 

But if he knew my true abilities, he wouldn’t have blinked before commissioning my death. Instead, he waited for me to graduate and lose the protection of the Halls.

That was where I decided to throw another curveball to his plans. In the Halls of Saturn, surviving was not easy, but it was almost trivial for the survivors to finally graduate. That was why everyone was shocked to learn that I had failed the graduation trial despite the three chances I had been given. The teachers were suspicious, of course, a couple of them -probably my uncle’s friends- had tried to make me pass regardless, but the rules were clear, and they were helpless. 

Of course, by doing so, I had forfeited all the benefits the school had made possible, from the ability to serve as an officer in the armed forces, to the privilege of standing for election for a seat in the Senate. All because of one critical detail. 

People that failed the graduation were allowed to leave the school three days before the other students. And that three days were all I needed to screw up my uncle’s plans, and cut through the guards that he posted around the school, unprepared because they thought that they still had three days to establish a cordon, scrambling desperately. The breach hadn’t been easy even then, I had killed seven men -all loyal retainers of my uncle- and taken three dangerous wounds -thankfully, none magic resistant, so I was able to take the next step of my crazy gambit, passing through a wild forest to hide my tracks. I wasn’t fancying my chances to pass through a monster-filled forest with an open wound. Even in top condition, it was a small miracle that I survived the trek. I was curious just how many retainers my uncle lost trying to follow me, and I was willing to bet it was close to three digits.  

My strategy meant that I had burned all the bridges. On the island of Britanium, I had no chance of survival. Hence the reason I was at the docks, disguised as a sailor, trying to find a ship to get away before the I was found by my uncle's trackers, or the assassins he had doubtlessly hired after losing a significant portion of his armed forces. 

With that in mind, I walked close to the water, carefully examining each ship and their sailors, trying to pick the best ship for my travel. The most important thing was that their time of departure, the sooner, the better. Of course, it was a given that it should have a destination outside of Britanium, and preferably not to land like Gaul, where my uncle had strong business ties. So, while he couldn’t use his title of Warlock to interject, he could still use his business interests as a favor, leading a local Warlock, or even a Governor if I’m particularly unlucky, against me instead. And the third requirement was the state of the ship. I needed the ship to be desperate, desperate enough to get a new sailor without looking to his background too much… 

But despite my carefulness, my search came to a premature end soon after. I was passing near a humongous ship, pulled in the middle of the docks, the slots next to it noticeably empty despite the overall crowd. Not surprising, as the ship was the most garish eyesore I had the displeasure of seeing, and I had spent the last three years in a magic school for nobles, almost every male imitating peacocks in a colorful attempt to prove their taste and wealth. 

The ship was no less ugly than the robes and the cloak my schoolmates thought to be good taste, but in a different way. First of all, the ship was coated in black paint, and not a soft black to make sure that the ship melded into the night, but a shiny black that shouted its presence even under the slightest light. The spikes on the edges that positioned more for intimidation value rather than anything practical made it even more garish. 

All together, it only lacked an ugly black flag to mark itself as a pirate vessel. Instead, I could see the flag of House Leonay on the main mast, meaning they were most likely privateers -meaning pirates that promised not to attack the ships its flag bearer. Or at least, it wasn’t supposed to, because the crew that filled the ship didn’t fill anyone with confidence. Ten years ago, such a ship couldn’t have qualified for the title of the privateer, but the war against the Frost Mages of the north was still ongoing, and the nobles were feeling the string of their endless raids, enough to allow obvious pirates to operate under their flags.   

Too late I realized that thinking deeply about the intricacies of international politics wasn’t the best of ideas. In my absentminded state, I had drifted too close to the ship, and as a consequence, rather visible from the deck. Still, it wouldn’t have been a big problem, if it wasn’t for the sudden explosion, followed by a charred body flying off the deck. “God damn it, Gorro,” called a voice from the ship. “How many times I have told you that don’t kill deckhands for stupid reasons.” 

“It wasn’t a stupid reason,” a gruff voice bellowed back. “He was late to serve my food by a full minute.” 

“For fucking siren’s sake, you idiot, the captain is going to gut you when he learns that we’re late because of you. We’re short-staffed as it is, and we need to leave the dock as soon as possible.” 

“No,” answered the gruff voice, this time obviously scared. “Maybe he’s not dead yet.” A moment later, a tall, thick man carrying an equally humongous ax appeared at the edge of the deck, too quick for me to disappear into the crowd. “Maybe not,” he said with a disappointment, before turning his gaze to me. “You,” he bellowed, pointing at me. “You’re recruited, and now you’re a part of Thorn Pira- Privateers,” he said, correcting his words at the last second. “Now, come on board so that we can leave.” 

“Curses,” I murmured, trying to suppress my anger. I had spent three years being assaulted and insulted by a bunch of idiots that didn’t deserve to breathe, and after leaving the school, I was hoping that I had seen the last of it, only to be forcibly recruited by a bunch of pirates. 

Even more galling was I knew I was strong enough to disregard his orders. A flick of my wrist would be enough to call a lightning bolt from the clear skies that would turn him into a crisp, but not only that would put me against a full-sized pirate crew, something I could definitely not defeat. And even if I managed to escape, it would be an explosive affair that would get everyone’s attention, leaving my uncle right to my position. I rather cut my head and send the package to my uncle. At least, it would be painless. 

“I said come on board, you diseased son of a bitch,” called the huge man that was named Gorro.

“Yes, sir,” I said, and quickly jumped on board. I could have tried my luck to disappear into the crowd, and probably would have succeeded. But a thought kept me in place. After all, that pirate vessel was the perfect excuse for me to disappear, and I could always escape on the next port; which must be rather far away based on the food they were stocking on their ship. 

I saw Gorro’s hand flying towards me the moment my feet pressed the deck. Dodging a telegraphed punch was easy, but also it would also alert everyone on the ship that I was more than a homeless street rat looking for a chance to eat. And attention was bad. So, I waited helplessly until his hand was about to contact my head, and then threw myself on the ground, deflecting as much as the impact as possible. 

“The next time, when I give you an order, follow it immediately,” Gorro said, and after one last kick to my ribs, he turned and left. 

I laid on the ground for a while, acting like I was trying to resist the pain, though I was trying to control my anger. Three years, I had to act like a pathetic bastard in the eyes of the nobles, and playing the same game with the pirates was hardly appealing. Still, it was better than being dead, or trying to avoid my uncle’s patrols in the wilderness. One of the older deckhands walked towards me. “Come on, newbie. Let’s give you a job,” he said, marking the beginning on my new job. 

I stood up, and followed him silently, moderately satisfied despite everything. After all, I had just managed to find a new ship that followed all of my needs, allowing me to escape both the island and my uncle’s trackers without raising any flags. Now, I just needed to keep my head low until we reached to another dock, and disappear silently, starting a new life that wasn’t plagued by murderous uncles and resentful peers.

How hard could it be to keep a low profile for a few days…