A Pirate's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 23 - "You're as intimidating as a coming storm."

The smell of ale swirled around the tavern, carried there by the breath of its occupants. Tales and lies tangled together to create a tapestry of discord that wasn't easily unraveled.

Amidst the stationary men, barmaids scurried about, faces rosy with their efforts and hair lightly tousled. The night was just early enough that men drank without abandon, knowing tomorrow still lay a ways off.

From a table in the back, Isla watched the bustle of the tavern with a clear head and scrutinizing eyes. Beside her, Raif studied the array of sailors, artists, and labors, the only distinction between them was the color of the smudges on their hands. Hawk was at another table, already making friends for the upcoming display.

"How do I go about this?" Raif asked. "Pick one man and challenge him to a fight?"

"No, there is more to it than that."

Raif leaned closer to Isla, waiting. Isla expected a memory to surface, to find herself taken back to when her father was alive. To where he had sat with her, breaking down the logic behind what he had created and how to make the most of it.

But the weight of Raif's gaze kept her locked in the present.

"It is more than picking a single man and challenging him," Isla said. "You need to pick the right man. One that will appear the more likely opponent to win, but one you can defeat. This means a man who is two or three drinks in. Still in control, but without the clear head of sobriety." Raif nodded. "You can not challenge him to a fight, more than you think a man will simply wave off your challenge, knowing he does not need to accept."

"Then I insult him, angering him."

Isla shook her head. "No, insulting a man will bring about his wrath as well as that of his friends. You need to challenge his word, his character. That is when it becomes a stance between only you and him."

Raif took all this in with a thoughtful bob of his head as he surveyed the scene with new eyes. A table across the way was crowded with bearded men all laughing, it was a loud laughter that spoke of too many drinks. They were likely to fall over before they could throw a punch.

"Which man would you choose?" Raif asked.

"Easy, any of them."

This pulled Raif's attention back to her. He frowned in confusion. In answer, Isla waved her hand out across the room full of males which most were a hand taller than her.

"My pick is easy because every one of these men would see me as easy prey and the onlookers would never believe I could win."

Raif laughed disbelieving. "You can't be serious?" This caught Isla by surprise, unsure what he meant. "Truly, not all these men have barnacles for brains." Again Isla was thrown off. Raif gestured to her. "You're as intimidating as a coming storm."

Though she wasn't certain it was a compliment, something stirred in her chest. Something almost close to appreciation.

"They do not see me as you do," she said. "I have not had the pleasure of kidnapping all of them."

Raif laughed again this time with pure amusement.

"Their loss." He took a sip of his drink and eyed the collection for an opponent. "Was acting as a Fighter how you got that scar on your wrist?"

Isla gazed down at the faint white line on her skin. The mark that always brought Jakks to the forefront of her mind. Crossing her arms, hiding the imperfection, she looked out on the noisy tavern.

"No, that was a fight where winning meant more than money."

Raif said nothing, though his silence was heavy with curiosity. After a brief moment, he drowned the rest of his drink and stood, rolling his shoulders. Before he could walk away, Isla laid her hand on his arm, making him pause.