Page 118 of Crossbones
I hand over the spyglass and Thaddeus takes a look. “She made the right choice,” he mutters. He barks out more orders and the crew prepares to board. We sail up alongside theCommandantand I see a very confused Captain standing at the mast. The crew throws over grapples and I follow Thaddeus as we cross the gap.
“Thaddeus?” The Captain greets the General with an apprehensive look. “What’s going on? Why are you flying the Black…” His gaze lands on me at the General’s shoulder and he pales significantly.
“I’m here to tell you to turn around, George,” Thaddeus says.
“I can’t do that,” the Captain says incredulously. “The King gave me orders to bring back theTempest.”
“Well, I have new orders for you, and you can pretend they’re from Aldric if you want,” Thaddeus says. “But they’re to turn the fuck around.”
“KingAldric,” George corrects him with a frown.
Thaddeus is quiet before a cold smirk sinks into the hard lines of his face.
“He’s not my King.” Thaddeus says. He lets that information settle, and the deck is deathly silent. The tension in the air thickens to a tangible degree and my hand rests casually on my pistol, feeling the shift. Thaddeus looks around, his hands on his belt before he regards George with eyes like steel.
“Here’s the deal, George. You can turn around, or take your chances going against two warships.” He jerks his chin and the Captain glances over his shoulder to see theTempest, closing fast on his other side. He turns back, much more pale than before.
“You’re committing treason, Thaddeus!”
“What’s it going to be, George?”
The Captain’s mouth presses into a thin line but he’s apparently no fool. Anyone with half a mind would know he’s outmatched.
“I concede,” he growls.
“Good man,” Thaddeus says. “Now, where’s your quartermaster?”
He looks around the deck and a man steps forward, touching his forehead in greeting but looking apprehensively at the General. Thaddeus pulls his pistol and everyone on deck tenses.
“What’s your name?” Thaddeus asks.
“Quincy.”
“Watch closely, Quincy—” Thaddeus brings up his pistol and points it at George who starts to protest. “You still watching?”
Quincy nods frantically.
“Good.” Thaddeus pulls the trigger and Quincy jolts as George drops to the deck, a bullet through his forehead. The crew protests, but Thaddeus’ men hold them at gunpoint and the ship is quiet once more. Thaddeus sighs and gestures with his gun.
“Unfortunately, George here would have sailed straight back to Aldric and told him everything. I can’t have that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I need you to do something for me, Quincy,” Thaddeus says. “I need you to sail to Ironhold and send this message to the Duke—”
“The Duke, sir?”
“Yes, the Duke of Brookveil. Tell him it’s open season and he should join me in De’Vero for a hunt.”
Quincy tenses in fear as Thaddeus walks up to him. The General shoves his pistol under Quincy’s chin—even though it’s empty, Quincy goes rigid.
“Repeat it back to me,” Thaddeus growls.
“I’m–I’m to find the Duke—”
“The Duke of what?”
“Brookveil—and tell ‘im–tell ‘im it’s open season and he should–he should join me–you, I mean, sir, in De’Vero for a hunt.”
