The Ninja and the Pirate King

     An unforeseen potentiality, the Stealthy Xweetok curses, retreating further into the shadows cast by the peeling façade of the Pawkeet’s Beak Inn. Safely ensconced in the darkness, he removes his mask, widening his field of view.

     The skies are overcast, the clouds threatening to split apart with storm, yet a crowd has congregated in the plaza outside the Governor’s mansion. A smattering of guards armed with spears and swords maintain a perimeter around the center platform where a yellow Gnorbu attired in the black suit and frilled hat of a Krawk Island official holds aloft a curl of parchment. Behind him, flanked by two Draik guards with crossed spears, is the pirate king.

     Though he bears the colouring of a Royal Cybunny, Laurence of Kingsgrange dons none of the regalia. Yet to say that his style is no less extravagant than that of a royal would be severely underselling it. The Cybunny dons a tricorn hat, pastel yellow with elaborate pale pink stitching. The top is festooned with lilies while wavy blond locks spill out from beneath it, framing a roguishly handsome face dusted with silver freckles. Though his shirt is a simple cotton affair, gathered at the waist and tied off with a silk belt, the ruffled sleeves billow out over his manacled wrists with a dramatic flair. On his hands he wears lace-trimmed gloves, somehow still perfectly white despite the roughing up he seems to have taken. Peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his right arm is a chain of sakura flowers tattooed in vibrant pink ink. Black leggings stretch down his legs toward furred boots, interrupted only by a pair of heavy shackles. Around his neck, just beneath his royal blue ruff, hangs a gold chain of colourful shells.

     He is, in a word, flamboyant—even more so than how Master described him, Akihiko thinks bemusedly. He can’t imagine drawing such attention to himself in his line of work where stealth is paramount and the ability to disappear in an instant can mean the difference between life and death.

     And look how well his gaudiness has served him. Akihiko watches as the pirate fidgets with his restraints. A slight smirk curves his lips upward, but his green eyes are fixed on his leftmost guard. The Draik’s grip on his spear is loose, Akihiko notices on closer inspection; the pirate king must see it as well. Akihiko’s attention is then drawn to the Gnorbu official, who clears his throat and begins to read from the parchment.

     “The self-styled ‘Pirate King Laurence of Kingsgrange’”—he makes a face—“who has terrorized the seas around our fair Krawk Island, has been apprehended at last.”

     A cheer swells in the crowd before the Gnorbu raises a hand to silence it. To the pirate king, he turns and says, “Where in Neopia is Kingsgrange?”

     The pirate king scoffs, folding his arms with a clattering of chains. “Really,” he begins, and Akihiko is surprised by the melodiousness of his voice. “Must you put your ignorance on full display for all to perceive?”

     The Gnorbu tightens his hold on the parchment. “Speak plainly, you scoundrel. I haven’t the patience to jabber the day away with the likes of you!”

     “Hmph. Then listen well, for I won’t repeat myself. The illustrious agrarian nation of Kingsgrange is a city-state in the foothills of Meridell, just a stone’s throw from Brightvale, in fact—”

     “Ha!” interrupts the Gnorbu, waving his parchment in the prisoner’s face. “I couldn’t care less about your backwoods farming hamlet! The issue at hand is your punishment for your crimes against the actual nation of Krawk Island!”

     “You intend to punish me?” asks the pirate king, glancing to his left, and in that moment, Akihiko sees a glint of steel in his hand. “Then you’ll have to catch me first!”

     It’s a tricky move to pull off for one with more style than sense, but the pirate king manages it with impressive finesse. In an instant, the concealed blade from his sleeve is at the throat of the leftmost guard, who quails and fumbles his spear. The pirate king shoves him from the platform before taking off in the direction of the wharf. He might have made a clean getaway, Akihiko notes, if not for the irons binding his feet.

     Akihiko clambers up onto the Pawkeet’s Beak’s fire escape in time to see the pirate king stagger and trip just beyond the row of onlookers, his fetters serving their grim purpose. In another moment, he’s surrounded by guards levelling spears at his throat.

     “Reckless,” declares the Gnorbu from the center platform, “and foolhardy, as has defined your career. But we will not be troubled by you any longer.” Straightening the parchment, he reads out in a ringing voice, “The Cybunny rogue Laurence of Kingsgrange is hereby sentenced to imprisonment at the Governor’s leisure.” He allows the proclamation to spring back into its coil before pointing it at the guards, who have dragged the pirate back to his feet. “Take him away.”

     The pirate king doesn’t struggle as he’s half-dragged, half-shuffled in the direction of the dungeons. Akihiko watches until he’s out of sight. Things would have been so much easier, he laments, if his target had managed to escape.

     —

     Akihiko doesn’t know why his master wants the pirate king. His master didn’t elaborate when he made the order, and as his servant, Akihiko didn’t ask.

     “Just bring him to me alive,” his master had said one night as he scribbled away at something on his writing desk. “I don’t care what state he’s in otherwise, so long as he maintains the faculty of speech.”

     Akihiko had bowed and asked only where he ought to begin his search.

     “I’ve heard tell he’s been spotted in the vicinity of Krawk Island lately. Catch him before the authorities do.”

     But Akihiko hadn’t caught him before the authorities had, and now his punishment for his failure is to sneak through the heavily guarded Krawk Island dungeons and engineer an impromptu prison break. He has no inkling as to where the pirate king has been taken, forcing him to check every cell he passes while remaining undetected by guards and inmates alike. He hardly knows how he’ll manage to get the boisterous pirate king out similarly undetected.

     It doesn’t surprise him to learn, by way of two gossiping guards, that the pirate king is being held on the lowest level of the dungeon, though it does irritate him. After that stunt earlier today, it only makes sense that the pirate’s guards would want to keep him as far from the surface as possible. His cell door is almost solid stone but for a small barred window through which Akihiko catches a glimpse of tangled blond hair. A Skeith stands guard outside it, beady eyes bright and alert in the scant torchlight.

     Ensuring that his mask and hood are safely in place, Akihiko retrieves a pouch from his belt and scatters its contents—spores from the nemuri mushroom, a potent sleeping agent. It doesn’t take long for the Skeith to breathe them in, and in only minutes, his eyelids droop, then fall shut, and he slumps to the floor, fast asleep. Akihiko scurries up to him and listens for his breathing to slow and deepen before gingerly lifting the large brass key from his waist and slotting it into the cell door.

     The pirate king is not sleeping. He lifts his golden head as the door opens and squints into the darkness.

     “Egads!” he cries, leaping up in alarm. “What manner of ghoul is this, come to take me to its unholy realm?”

     “Quiet,” Akihiko hisses, grabbing the chain between the pirate’s manacles and dragging him from the cell. The pirate awkwardly stumbles after him on his shackled feet.

     “A voice? Are you mortal, perchance?” he asks as Akihiko looks for a key to the chains on the guard’s belt.

     “I said quiet. Of course I am. Now keep your mouth shut, lest we be discovered!”

     He should have suspected that the pirate king would not be amenable to reason.

     “You’re helping me escape?” the Cybunny exclaims, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, excellent! Despite your rather frightening mask, you are a good man, righting the injustice of my imprisonment here!”

     Locating a small silver key, Akihiko tears it from the guard’s belt and slams it into the keyhole on one of the pirate’s fetters, breathing a sigh of relief when the lock clicks and the cuff pops open. He quickly unlocks the second, then pockets the key and shoves the pirate in the small of the back. “Move.”

     “Eh?” The pirate resists him, glancing over his shoulder. “What about my hands?” He holds up his bound wrists, but Akihiko only forces him onward.

     “It’s enough that you can walk,” is all he says in reply. The pirate, finally, has the sense to let the subject drop in favour of their more pressing goal—escape.

     And to Akihiko’s great surprise, they manage it. The pirate is unexpectedly capable of stealthy manoeuvres, treading softly through the labyrinthine passageways and keeping to the shadows when he can. Half the time, Akihiko finds himself following his new charge rather than leading him. The role-reversal is oddly disorienting.

     They’re able to successfully avoid the patrol routes of the guards and the attention of the other inmates, emerging at last into the intake room on the ground floor where a window with loose bars will serve as their exit. Akihiko begins to lead them toward it when the pirate stops abruptly.

     “Oh!” he exclaims, and dashes toward a table at the back of the room.

     “What are you doing?” Akihiko demands, his heart beginning to race. “We need to go!”

     “My hat!” the pirate cries, and a moment later, he has the gaudy thing perched jauntily back on his head.

     Akihiko gnashes his teeth, invisible behind his mask, and grabs the pirate by the back of the shirt and forces him to the window. “Out. Now.”

     Miraculously, they make it out into the cool night air of Krawk Island, somehow still avoiding detection.

     “I really must thank you,” the pirate starts, but Akihiko shoves him again.

     “Go. And keep your mouth shut.”

     The pirate stumbles, his manacles rattling. “Goodness! What have I done to deserve such vitriol from an utter stranger? Please, sir, since you’ve seen fit to set me at liberty, won’t you at least assist me in removing my chains?”

     Akihiko grips the pirate’s shirt collar and forces him in the direction of Smugglers’ Cove. “‘Set you at liberty’? You misunderstand my intentions. I have only sprung you from the dungeons so that I may deliver you to my master.”

     “Your master?” The pirate thinks for a time as Akihiko continues to urge him onward. “No, I don’t believe I know the masters of any ninja,” he says at last. “In fact, I think you’re the first ninja I’ve ever met.”

     Akihiko ignores him. After all, it doesn’t matter what he thinks of the situation—Akihiko is only fulfilling his master’s orders.

     Unfortunately for him, the unbearably loquacious Pirate King Laurence of Kingsgrange babbles himself silly all the way to Smugglers Cove.

     “This must be some mistake!” And: “Please, release me! You assuredly have the wrong pirate king!” And: “Did you know I’m also known as the ‘Scourge of Krawk Island’? Krawk Island! I’ve never even been to Shenkuu, I’ll have you know!”

     Akihiko jostles him along, keeping a firm grip on his upper arm, though despite his earlier efforts in the plaza, the pirate does not attempt escape again. In fact, by the time they reach the cove, even he appears rather worn out. For once, Akihiko can understand him; it’s been far too long a day—for both of them, no doubt.

     The Biyako is moored within Smugglers Cove, just as Captain Bohai promised. Akihiko finds the sky-ship well-hidden behind the bluffs that encircle the cove, its blue-black sails already poised for flight. The small merchant vessel would likely pass by Krawk Island’s coast guard with little scrutiny, but Akihiko isn’t one to take chances.

     “A flying ship!” the pirate king cries, gazing up at it in awe. “A beauty, to be sure! Under circumstances involving considerably less abduction, I think I would quite enjoy my ride on it!”

     Akihiko grinds his teeth but holds his tongue.

     Bohai meets the two of them on the gangplank.

     “This the boy?” the old Eventide Ogrin asks, scratching his bearded chin while looking the pirate over. “Bit of a dandy, eh?”

     “My good sir,” says the pirate, but Akihiko cuts him off.

     “Yes. The one Master requested—unfortunately alive. I assure you, Captain, he will not cause any trouble for you or your crew.”

     The pirate looks affronted by the insinuation, but Bohai only laughs. “Well, climb aboard and we’ll haul anchor outta here. Lord Eiji ain’t one to be kept waiting.”

     “Lord Eiji?” the pirate repeats as Akihiko prods him up the gangplank. “Is he your master?”

     “Keep moving.”

     “Hmph! I know no man by that name!”

     Akihiko guides the pirate below deck. “I care not what Master wants with you, nor what your relationship to him may be. I am only carrying out my duty as ordered.”

     He brings the pirate to his cabin and pushes him over the threshold. The room is small for the two of them without even accounting for the size of the pirate king’s ego. A single bunk is lined up along one wall, its blankets neatly arranged. At the other side is an old armchair that’s more comfortable than something its age ought to be. A small, rickety desk is bolted to the floor at the back of the room, and above it is the sole porthole, currently black with night.

     Akihiko steps inside after the pirate, closing and locking the door behind him. To his annoyance, the pirate settles on his bed, leaning back against the wall and stretching his arms above his head as much as he can.

     “You’re sleeping there,” Akihiko says curtly, pointing at the armchair.

     “Hmph. Did you see what they had me sleeping on in that dingy cell? A straw pallet! If the indignity of it weren’t horrendous enough, it’s already gone and done a number on my back!” The pirate stretches again, then winces, as if to prove his point.

     Akihiko resists the urge to roll his eyes, though the pirate can’t see it behind his mask. “I don’t care. Get up.”

     But the pirate doesn’t move except to kick off his boots and sprawl over the mattress. “Won’t you take off that horrid mask now? It’s certain to give me nightmares.”

     Akihiko glares but removes his mask anyway. “It doesn’t matter if you see my face,” he says rather ominously.

     Still, the pirate straightens on the bed. “Ha! A much gentler face than I was expecting!”

     Akihiko blushes even as he scowls. “Enough out of you unless you’d like to be gagged for the remainder of the journey.”

     “Oh!” says the pirate. “But this is the part where I work my charm on you! And”—he thrusts out his hands—“convince you to remove these awful manacles, perhaps? They’re painfully tight.”

     Akihiko grips the small key he hooked to his belt. “No. In fact”—he moves to the desk and rummages through its topmost drawer for what he left within it earlier—“you’ll be wearing this as well to ensure you don’t escape.”

     He holds up a heavy brace-like contraption meant to lock around the wearer’s foot and hobble his movements. The pirate blanches, a remarkable accomplishment considering his white colouration.

     “Why must you be so cruel?” he cries as Akihiko grips his right leg.

     “I don’t trust you. That was quite the performance outside the Governor’s mansion.”

     The pirate perks up even as Akihiko presses the hobble’s iron bar against the arch of his foot. “You saw that, did you?”

     Akihiko binds the bar in place with steel bands cinched around the pirate’s foot and ankle. “The entire island saw it, from the looks of it.” He lets the pirate’s leg go with a thump as the bar drops to the floor. The pirate winces. Like this, he’ll be able to walk—clumsily—but not run.

     “Yes, I’m rather the household name around Krawk Island.” The pirate tests the weight of his hobbled foot before grimacing and dragging it up onto the bed beside him. “Really, this is unnecessary,” he grumbles.

     Akihiko motions for him to get off the bed. “Go. I’m going to sleep. Don’t think about trying anything—I wake at a pin drop.”

     Still, the pirate doesn’t move. “You’ll have to make me,” he mutters into the pillows, pulling the sheets around himself. “Good luck with your small frame and this extra weight you’ve added to me!”

     He kicks up his hobbled foot before swathing it within the blankets with the rest of him.

     Akihiko seethes. But he’s tired, and this clearly isn’t a battle worth fighting. Ensuring again that the door is locked, he hops into the armchair and curls up, pulling the folded quilt atop it down over himself.

     At least, he thinks as starts to doze off, it’s a comfortable armchair.

     To be continued…