Unwilling to Succumb (The Dragon Lorde #2)

Chapter Twenty: Ice is Broken, Truth is Spoken

"This is it?" I raised a brow up at the shack where Lorde Kaede had stopped at, in disbelief. "You really think we are going to find a captain in there?!"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? This house appears-."

"Tavern." Lorde Kaede corrected, immediately. "Any tavern by the sea, holds an average of at least three captains. It is a known fact, Miss. Emoriah."

I rolled my eyes. "Is it really?"

I never received an answer, as he began to march up the wooden steps, leaving Lorde Alonso and I to scramble after him.

The tavern was a one-story shack, built from weathered wood, that groaned like an old man every time the wind blew past. The screechy hum of a violin playing came from inside, and arched over the roof in wooden blocks, illuminated by at least a dozen candles, was the designation of this shack. Happy Clams.

Lorde Kaede opened the door, releasing a smell that brought bile to the back of my throat. An odor of ripened dead fish, days after days, of laying in the sun.

Stifling a cough, I raised the sleeve of my tailcoat to cover my mouth. Underneath the overwhelming scent of fish, there was a whiff of cigars and cheap booze. The ultimate slaughter to any nose.

Though this was my second time in a tavern, I still wasn't prepared for the wave of smoke that attacked my eyes. Burning, blurring, and blinding me momentarily. But from what I remember in my experience of being in a pub, is to never close your eyes. Closing your eyes led to vulnerability and vulnerability led to a knife being held at your throat.

And I need my throat un-knifed, thank you very much.

Blinking the moistness away from my eyes, I took in my surroundings. And let me just say the name of this shack gave quite a false portrayal. Happy clams? More like angry, buff-looking, 'I'll rip your throat right out' clams.

Wooden tables were placed under each cobwebbed window, with a few chairs that seemed to have been long occupied, by an ever so drunken arse. A long bar topped with numerous bottles of spirits, stood to my right, with a bartender so skinny and so jittery, it was a wonder at all that the drink in his hand made its way into the tankard held up to him. But what caught my abrupt attention was the men sitting at the bar.

Each man looked different. Some were huge and muscular, that the legs of their chairs appeared as if they would buckle to the floor at any sudden movement. Others were lean and skinny. But that didn't fool me! There was a malicious glint in their eyes, that had me believing they were just as capable to wrestle me to the floor then the rest of them.

They were all dressed in tattered shirts, trousers and scuffed black boots. Why... even one had a black patch over their left eye!

One of the men met my curious gaze and smiled a glistening smile....Wait a second.

I looked closer and gasped.

Every. Single. One of his teeth shined a magnificent gold. He had a shiny, one of a kind, money making smile.

I've heard stories of such men with golden teeth and black eye patches. Men who craved money and gold, even more so then my passion towards chocolate! Men who sailed the seas pilfering every village along the coast, punching the air with their fists in a mighty 'arggg!' of greed.

Then when they would finish and depart, their black sculled flag would wave farewell at the city burning to ruin behind them.

Oh, Salvador. We stumbled ourselves upon a band of bloody pirates!!