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doesnotkneelFandom had, for some time, put ideas of ambition and future in Edward's head, like perhaps he really was intended for more. After the events of the past few weeks, however, he had began to wonder — perhaps his life was here, in the beer suds, around the sloppy grins of easy women with hardly any teeth and even fewer morals, and by the time of his thirtieth summer hauling wool to Bristol market he'd be numbed to it; he'd have forgotten whatever hopes he had of one day seeing the world on his own strength and by his own choices.
But one sunny afternoon, in August, things began to turn around. A gentleman took his place next to Edward at the bar of the George and Dragon in Bristol, and the world pivoted. He was a smartly dressed gentleman with flamboyant cuffs and a colourful necktie, who removed his hat, placed it to the bar and indicated Edward's drink.
“Can I get you another, sir?” he asked Edward.
It made a change from “son,” “lad” or “boy.” All of which Edward had to endure on a daily if not hourly basis.
“And who do I have to thank for my drink? And what might he want in return?” Edward asked guardedly.
“Perhaps just the chance to talk, friend,” beamed the man. He proffered his hand to shake. “The name is Dylan Wallace, pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. . . . Kenway, isn’t it?”
For the second time in a matter of weeks Edward was presented with someone who knew his name though he had no idea why.
“Oh yes,” Wallace said, beaming. (He was at least of a more friendly nature than Wilson, Edward reflected.) “I know your name. Edward Kenway. Quite the reputation you have around these parts. Indeed, I’ve seen you in action for myself.”
“Have you?” Edward looked at him, eyes narrowed.
“Why yes indeed,” Wallace said. “I hear from the people I’ve spoken to that you’re no stranger to a bit of a scuffle, but even so, you can’t have forgotten your fight at the Auld Shillelagh the other day.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be allowed to forget it.” Edward sighed.
“When I tell you what, sir, I’m just going to come straight out with it, because you look like a young man who knows his own mind and is unlikely to be persuaded one way or the other by anything I might have to tell you, so I’m just going to come right out with it. Have you ever thought of going to sea?”
“Well, now that you come to mention it, Mr. Wallace, I had once considered leaving Bristol heading in that direction, you’re right.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
Edward shook his head. “Now that is a very good question.”
“Do you know what a privateer is, Mr. Kenway, sir?”
Before Edward could answer, Wallace was telling him. “They’re buccaneers given letters of marque by the Crown. You see, the Dons and the Portuguese are helping themselves to the treasures of the New World, they’re filling their coffers, and it’s the job of privateers either to stop them or to take what they’re taking. Do you understand?”
“I know what a privateer is, thank you very much, Mr. Wallace. I know that you can’t be put on trial for piracy, so long as you don’t attack ships belonging to your own country, that’s it, isn’t it?”
“Oh, that’s it, Mr. Kenway, sir.” Dylan Wallace grinned. “How would it be if I leaned over and was to help myself to a mug of ale? That’d be stealing, wouldn’t it? The barman might try to stop me, but what if I was doing it with impunity. What if my theft had the royal seal of approval? This is what we are talking about, Mr. Kenway. The opportunity to go out on the high seas and help yourself to as much gold and treasure as your captain’s ship will carry. By doing so you will not only be working with the approval of Her Majesty Queen Anne but helping her. You’ve heard of Captain Christopher Newport, Francis Drake, Admiral Sir Henry Morgan, privateers all. How about adding the name Edward Kenway to that illustrious list?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying how about becoming a privateer, sir?”
Edward gave him a studying look. “And if I promise to think about it, what’s in it for you?”
“Why, commission, of course.”
“Don’t you normally press men for this kind of thing?”
“Not men of your calibre, Mr. Kenway. Not men we might consider officer material.”
“All because I showed promise in a fight?”
“Because of the way you conducted yourself in that fight, Mr. Kenway, in all aspects of it.”
Edward nodded. “If I promise to think about it, does that mean I don’t need to return the favour of an ale?”
That night, Edward went to bed knowing he had to tell Father that his destiny lay not in sheep-farming but in swashbuckling adventure as a privateer.
[[ taken and adapted from the Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag novelization. NFB due to distance! ]]
But one sunny afternoon, in August, things began to turn around. A gentleman took his place next to Edward at the bar of the George and Dragon in Bristol, and the world pivoted. He was a smartly dressed gentleman with flamboyant cuffs and a colourful necktie, who removed his hat, placed it to the bar and indicated Edward's drink.
“Can I get you another, sir?” he asked Edward.
It made a change from “son,” “lad” or “boy.” All of which Edward had to endure on a daily if not hourly basis.
“And who do I have to thank for my drink? And what might he want in return?” Edward asked guardedly.
“Perhaps just the chance to talk, friend,” beamed the man. He proffered his hand to shake. “The name is Dylan Wallace, pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. . . . Kenway, isn’t it?”
For the second time in a matter of weeks Edward was presented with someone who knew his name though he had no idea why.
“Oh yes,” Wallace said, beaming. (He was at least of a more friendly nature than Wilson, Edward reflected.) “I know your name. Edward Kenway. Quite the reputation you have around these parts. Indeed, I’ve seen you in action for myself.”
“Have you?” Edward looked at him, eyes narrowed.
“Why yes indeed,” Wallace said. “I hear from the people I’ve spoken to that you’re no stranger to a bit of a scuffle, but even so, you can’t have forgotten your fight at the Auld Shillelagh the other day.”
“I don’t think I’m going to be allowed to forget it.” Edward sighed.
“When I tell you what, sir, I’m just going to come straight out with it, because you look like a young man who knows his own mind and is unlikely to be persuaded one way or the other by anything I might have to tell you, so I’m just going to come right out with it. Have you ever thought of going to sea?”
“Well, now that you come to mention it, Mr. Wallace, I had once considered leaving Bristol heading in that direction, you’re right.”
“So what’s stopping you?”
Edward shook his head. “Now that is a very good question.”
“Do you know what a privateer is, Mr. Kenway, sir?”
Before Edward could answer, Wallace was telling him. “They’re buccaneers given letters of marque by the Crown. You see, the Dons and the Portuguese are helping themselves to the treasures of the New World, they’re filling their coffers, and it’s the job of privateers either to stop them or to take what they’re taking. Do you understand?”
“I know what a privateer is, thank you very much, Mr. Wallace. I know that you can’t be put on trial for piracy, so long as you don’t attack ships belonging to your own country, that’s it, isn’t it?”
“Oh, that’s it, Mr. Kenway, sir.” Dylan Wallace grinned. “How would it be if I leaned over and was to help myself to a mug of ale? That’d be stealing, wouldn’t it? The barman might try to stop me, but what if I was doing it with impunity. What if my theft had the royal seal of approval? This is what we are talking about, Mr. Kenway. The opportunity to go out on the high seas and help yourself to as much gold and treasure as your captain’s ship will carry. By doing so you will not only be working with the approval of Her Majesty Queen Anne but helping her. You’ve heard of Captain Christopher Newport, Francis Drake, Admiral Sir Henry Morgan, privateers all. How about adding the name Edward Kenway to that illustrious list?”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying how about becoming a privateer, sir?”
Edward gave him a studying look. “And if I promise to think about it, what’s in it for you?”
“Why, commission, of course.”
“Don’t you normally press men for this kind of thing?”
“Not men of your calibre, Mr. Kenway. Not men we might consider officer material.”
“All because I showed promise in a fight?”
“Because of the way you conducted yourself in that fight, Mr. Kenway, in all aspects of it.”
Edward nodded. “If I promise to think about it, does that mean I don’t need to return the favour of an ale?”
That night, Edward went to bed knowing he had to tell Father that his destiny lay not in sheep-farming but in swashbuckling adventure as a privateer.
[[ taken and adapted from the Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag novelization. NFB due to distance! ]]
