The Pirate Queen

Chapter 9

A week later, Ariel was standing at the wheel after dinner, watching her crew move about the deck. Eric was roaming amongst them, pouring mugs full of beer to the crew with that ever-present smile on his face. He'd delivered her dinner every night since that first conversation with nothing more than a smile and "good evening" before leaving again. She couldn't tell if she hated or praised him for not standing around long enough to edge her temper. 

"What are you thinking Ariel?" Seb asked beside her, his eyes also trained on the Prince. There was a scabbard strapped to Eric's hip, the same one he'd donned the morning after she suggested to him to remain armed at all times. It looked like a well-crafted blade from what she'd observed, but it seemed a little ordinary for a prince. The silver pommel was crafted to look like cresting waves, but that was as much ornamentation as it got. There was a similarly crafted dagger on his other hip with the same cresting wave pattern. 

"What have you gathered about our unexpected passenger?" She countered, hands tucked into her pockets as Seb took the helm. 

The Quartermaster shrugged. "Rather keeps to himself, actually. He and Jora remind me more of brothers than a butler serving a prince. Most of the crew are growing on him, he's quite a jokester and keeps their spirits up during mealtimes." 

"He spends a lot of time on the deck at night," Flounder added, coming up behind them. "Just leans against the railing and looks up at the stars. Scribbles something in a notebook a few times and then goes below." 

Good at navigation, he had told her. No doubt he was keeping note of where they were sailing, making his own guesses and estimates since she refused to tell him their destination and had threatened death to anyone else who breathed a word of it. Even more impressive, he was trying without even a compass to aid him. Since his solid gold engraved compass was currently locked in her desk. 

"So he's a good cook, quick with a joke, and expert navigator," she mused. She tapped her fingers on the worn wood of the railing, a plan slowly forming in her mind. "Flounder, how have you been feeling lately?" 

Her second turned to her, a fiendish grin on his face. "A little antsy, actually." 

"What are you-" Seb started but Ariel waved to Eric. 

"Then let's test his fighting skills. I think our crew deserves dinner and a show." 

Before Seb could protest, her second leaped off the quarterdeck and onto the main with a loud thud. He landed right next to Eric who blinked in surprise, empty tray in his hand. "Too impatient to take the stairs?" Eric teased, an easy grin on his face.

Flounder rolled his neck to the side, cracking his knuckles and Eric took a step back, the smile slipping from his face. "Something the matter Flounder? Pork too salty for you?" 

Maybe he does have a death wish, she thought as she watched the prince taunt her second. Flounder drew his sword, earning the attention of the entire crew. "The pork, the biscuits, your attitude," he growled. "Flaunting around this ship like you're the one in charge. I think it's time to knock you down a peg." 

He swung and Eric raised the metal tray upwards, fending off his blow. He kept the tray in his hands, shoving his weight into it to push Flounder back while he jumped away. "Mate, if you've got an issue with the food I'm not the one planning the menu." 

Flounder swiped his sword through the air at his side, raising an eyebrow. "So you'd throw your friend to the sharks instead? Shame on you." He pounced forward and again, Eric used the tray to defend himself. 

"Why doesn't he draw his sword?" Seb wondered, leaning forward to watch. Ariel tilted her head to the side, wondering the same thing. If she was him, she would have at least drawn blood by now. She was just as perplexed, and a little impressed, that Flounder hadn't.

"If you touch Jora, it'll be the last thing you do," Eric growled, but still did not pull out his sword or dagger. 

Flounder chuckled, strolling forward and forcing Eric to back up down the deck. "Sensitive about Cusinier? Now I know how to make you fall in line." Eric's back hit the railing but Flounder did not stop advancing. "Why do you not fight back, Prince? Not one for violence? Or did you lie to our Captain about your skills? Is the sword just for show?" 

Eric didn't say anything, just watched Flounder approach until he was only three feet in front of him. "I don't appreciate unprovoked fighting," he answered at last. The tray was in front of him, right in front of his navel, gripped in both hands. "But based on your ugly mug, it would seem you do."

Faster than he could move, Flounder swung out a fist and clocked the Prince in the jaw. Eric swayed but stayed upright and chuckled, rubbing the sore spot. "There. Now that was provoked." And then he attacked. 

He rammed the edge of the tray into Flounder's stomach before swinging it up under his chin. The first mate stumbled back and Eric swung out the tray and brought the flat side to the right side of Flounder's face. In his shock, Flounder dropped the sword which Eric kicked up with his foot, catching it in his left hand while his right wielded the tray. 

In his stumble, Eric got a foot around Flounder's ankle and Ariel watched as her undefeated, unflappable fighting machine land right on his ass. Without his opponent having swung a single blade at him. 

Eric held the point of the sword to Flounder's neck, breathing heavily. "Satisfied?" He snapped, turning his head sharply to look up at Ariel. 

She blinked, trying to keep her face from showing too many of her emotions: awe, shock, anger, surprise. "For now," she drawled. 

Eric shook his head and tucked the tray under his arm, holding his hand out to Flounder to help him up. To her continued shock he took it, grinning wildly. "You know it's not often I'm surprised, but you got me there prince." He slapped his back and Eric stumbled, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Clever trick with the tray." 

Eric looked down at the dented and scratched surface and shrugged. "I'm not sure Jora will be pleased to have his tray damaged, but I'll take the blame, don't worry. Less salty pork for you next time." He rubbed the edge with his sleeve and looked back up. "And by the way, I don't think you have an ugly mug. I'll try to make up for the insult."

Flounder laughed, loud and obnoxiously, sheathing his sword. "Just bring some extra rum and all will be good." 

Eric smiled and nodded. "That I can do." He hesitated at the bottom of the staircase and looked up at Ariel. "By the way, I'm not sure where in the south we're heading, but we're about five degrees off from the closest known trading post and island. Just thought you ought to know." And again, before she could get a word in, he disappeared.