Fights Like The Devil, Dressed As A Man

After the death of DuCasse, the theft of his galleon and the “removal” of the rest of the Frenchman’s men from the cove on Greater Inagua, Thatch had sailed for Nassau with the Spanish galleon, taking most of the men with him.

( Edward, Adewalé and Kidd had remained behind with some vague idea of how they might utilize the cove. )

[[ taken from the Assassin's Creed: Black Flag novelization ]]

When Edward awoke, he was on the floor of what looked like the lower deck of a galleon. A large galleon, it was, the kind that looked like it was used to transport... people. His legs were gripped by iron bilboes — big, immovable manacles that were scattered all around the deck, some empty, some not.

Not far away he could make out more bodies in the gloom of the deck. More men back there, at a guess maybe a dozen or so, shackled just as he was, but in what sort of shape it was difficult to tell from the low groans and mumblings that reached his ears. At the other end of the deck was piled the captives’ possessions — clothes, boots, hats, leather belts, packs and chests.

This lower deck had a smell all its own. The smell of misery. The smell of fear.

A voice said, “Eat it fast,” and a wooden bowl landed with a dull thump by Edward's bare feet before the black-leather boots of a guard retreated. He saw sunlight from a hatch and heard the clip-clop of a ladder being climbed.

Inside the bowl sat a dry flour biscuit and a splodge of oatmeal. Not far away sat a black man, and, like Edward, he was eyeing the food dubiously.

( You hungry? Edward asked. )

[[ nfb, nfi, some violence and casual white boy racism under the cut. taken and adapted from the novelization (which deftly dances around the latter) and the game (which does not). ]]

The ship they were after was a merchant ship run by the East India Company. There’d been many rumblings below decks regarding the wisdom of the enterprise. They knew that by attacking such a prestigious vessel they were making themselves wanted men. But the captain had said there were only three naval warships and two naval sloops patrolling the entire Caribbean Sea, and that the East India Company’s ship, the Amazon Galley, was said to be carrying treasure, and that providing they brought the Galley to a halt in open water out of sight of land, they should be able to plunder the ship at their leisure, escape and be out of it.

Wouldn’t the crew of the Galley be able to identify them, though? Edward wondered aloud. Wouldn’t they tell the navy they’d been attacked by the Emperor? Friday had just looked at him. Edward didn’t care for that look.

They found it on the third day of hunting.

( Sail ho! )

Already his fingers were fiddling with Pritchard's knots but just as the ropes came away and slithered to the cabin floor, the door burst open. Standing in the doorway was Captain Dolzell. His eyes were wild. His sword was drawn. Behind him was a great commotion on the ship. Men who moments before had been ready to board the Amazon Galley, as organized a fighting unit as we could be, were suddenly in disarray.

Captain Dolzell said one word, but it was enough.

“Privateers.”


[[ nfb, nfi! taken from the Assassin's Creed: Black Flag novelization. TW for torture under the cut. ]]

Why couldn’t Edward be happy with her? Caroline had asked. But Edward was happy with her. Why couldn’t Edward be happy with his life? she’d asked. No, Edward wasn’t happy with his life.

He tried. He begged and pleaded with her. Pointed out that he was still her husband, that he was doing this for her. But his pleas fell on deaf ears.

She was worried about Edward being hurt. Edward replied that he would be careful; that he would return with coin or send for her. He told her he needed her faith, but it helped him none.

( It was the day Edward was due to leave... )

“Poison. That’s what you are,” Father said through clenched teeth, “poison. The ruin of our lives.”

“Father . . .”

“Get out of here,” he spat. “Get out of here. I never want to see you again.”

Mother stirred as though she was about to protest, and rather than face more upset — rather than be the cause of more upset — Edward mounted his horse and left.

[[ i finally remembered to do this. taken from the Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag novelization ]]

One morning, Edward awoke from a drunken stupor, blinking in the morning light, only to find Caroline already dressed for the day ahead.

“I don’t want you to go,” she said, then turned and left the room.

---

One night Edward sat in the Livid Brews. ( He'd like to say he was not his usual self, but the sad fact of the matter was that he was. )

[[ nfi, nfb, taken from the Black Flag novelization. tw for alcoholism. ]]

"Matthew is going to ask me to marry him tomorrow morning."

Those were the words that made Edward's heart stop.

He was determined not to lose her. Because of his love for her, because he could think of nothing but her, because when they were together he savoured every moment; every word, every gesture that Caroline made was like nectar to him, everything about her, every curve and contour, her scent, her laugh, her refined manners, her intelligence. It was like no infatuation he had ever had-- no other girl, not his long-lasting obsession with Isabelle... even his courtship of Cosette had been easy. It had not burned like this, had not pierced so deeply.

All of this ran through Edward's mind as he made a terrifyingly rash decision: he dropped to one knee and took her hand, because what she was telling him, perhaps it wasn’t an invitation but a farewell, and if it was, well at least his humiliation would not be known far and wide, confined to the birds in the trees and the cows that stood in the fields watching them with sleepy eyes and chewing ruminatively.

“Caroline, will you marry me?” he said.

Edward held his breath. During their courtship, every meeting they’d had, every stolen kiss they’d shared, he’d been haunted by a feeling of not believing his luck. It was as though a great joke was being played on him — he half expected Tom Cobleigh to come leaping out of the shadows snorting with laughter. And if not that — if not some vengeful, practical joke at his expense — then perhaps he was merely a diversion for Caroline, a final fling, before she applied herself to her true calling, her duty. Surely she would say no.

“Ah, Edward,” she smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

In most romances, that would be the end of it, wouldn't it?

But that wasn't Edward's life.

[[ taken and adapted from the ACIV novelization. tbc! ]]

Fandom 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, things began to turn around. )

[[ taken and adapted from the Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag novelization. NFB due to distance! ]]

Edward woke up to the sound of screaming.

In a rush he dragged his breeches on and hopped out of the room with his shirt unbuttoned, still pulling his boots on over bare feet. He knew that scream. It was his mother. Moments later her screams had died down to a sob, replaced by his father’s cursing. The soft cursing of a man who had been proved correct.

After Edward's fight at the Auld Shillelagh he had returned inside the tavern in order to do something about his cuts and bruises. To numb the pain, so to speak. What better way of doing that than with a drink or two? Thus, when he’d eventually arrived home he’d been in a bit of a state. By which he meant “state,” as in a man who looked as though he’d been in the wars — which he had, with bruises to his face and his neck, and his clothes ragged and torn. But also “state,” as in a man who had had far too much to drink.

( The Silence of the Lambs, 18th century edition. )

[[ nfb, nfi, taken and adapted from the novelization of Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag. mentions of animal cruelty and death under the cut. ]]

Edward's mother Linette had been pleased as anything to see him alive again, and while his father Bernard's reaction had been rather more muted, the first few weeks after his return had been bliss. Everyone in Hatherton, the nearby town - a bit closer than Bristol, though not by much - had been chattering about it, and many congratulations had been heard at the farm. But such relief could not last long, especially not in lambing season. There was work to be done.

Once, Edward may have felt a deep longing for next month, when shearing season began - his time to shine. Now even the chance to ply his trade as a salesman felt lesser, next to the memories he had of Fandom Island. Not that he had a great deal of time to think about it. Life during lambing season was harsh. He'd find himself in the barns by sun-up, sore head and all, needing to see if any ewes had lambed during the night.

It was the case again this morning, and Edward led the ewe and her child across the way to one of the smaller pens. His father was already waiting there, guiding the ewe into the lambing jug. There, the most mind-numbing part of Edward's work took over: cleaning feeders, filling them up again, changing the hay and the water.

Only one thing had changed. His mother was no longer the only one of them who had any letters. Every now and again, Edward would get a break, picking up their ledger and dutifully writing down the details of the recent births in small terms, so his mother could understand it. There was one small joy about it all, which was watching his parents go about the work together. He'd never seen another two people so in love who had such little need to make a display of the fact. It was good for the soul.

But by the time evening rolled about, Edward was grateful to get out of it. The work numbed his mind, and after two years of schooling, it left him with a greater pit in his innards than he'd ever imagined he'd have.

He missed Cosette, as well, but he had no way to contact her. Sometimes he'd take a moment to settle and work on a letter, but never for long. Other things awaited: to be specific, the tavern. It was his only distraction, and after the day's work, he was more than pleased to be heading down the path into town again.

Jaysus, but he missed Fandom Island.

[[ establishy. some of the above taken from the novelization of Assassin's Creed: Black Flag. ]]