Sebastián’s warning lingered like an itch in the back of Jude’s mind. It sat there all night while he ached to fall asleep, and filled his head with a dense layer of concern as he trudged towards the mess hall for breakfast.

He couldn’t deny that the captain was a sinister, terrifying man. After all, the thrill of it was what sparked Jude’s initial attraction when he’d been at his most desperate. Sebastián’s stories certainly had basis, but he’d never considered himself to be in any real danger while he was in the captain’s presence. If anything, he erred on the side of yearning, hoping that Kit’s flirtatious energy might combust into something more tangible if he found himself in the right place at the right time.

But… Were all of the stories true? Did he really want to entangle himself with a man so ravenous for torture, death and destruction? 

How long could bliss possibly last if he faced the edge of a knife all the while?

Even after picking through his food, Jude’s hunger persisted. He slouched over the mess table with his chin in his hand, watching his friends eat with a glazed over look. When the conversation lulled, he set down his spoon and sat upright.

“What do you folks know about the captain?”

The silence continued while his crewmates finished their mouthfuls and processed his question. They all exchanged a glance, some with fear in their eyes, others with a glint of excitement.

“What do you want to know?” Lottie piped up from across the table. “Tales of adventure, or…?”

“No… I mean, what’s he really like?”

“The tales aren’t far off,” began Smithy, whose smooth shaven head was now covered in a layer of fuzz, and his ginger beard was growing bushier by the day. “I once saw him eat a man’s face off while he was still alive.”

The table erupted with groans of fear and disgust as Jude shut his eyes to push the image out of his mind. Good God.

But thankfully, the pirate sitting beside him interrupted the chorus of horror. “That’s bullshit,” spat the burly buccaneer. “I’ve been on this crew as long as you have, and you’ve seen shit all. The Skewerin’ was true, but if Kintsugi’s eating faces, he’s not doing it in front of us.”

Jude’s head was flooded with even more questions than before. While the ginger and his friend began to bicker about the validity of his claims, Jude frowned and thought back to all the tales he’d heard when he was first recruited. The Skewering rang a bell, but he’d not yet heard the story in full. What could have happened to earn such a title? Just how long had Captain Kit been sailing, and how many more stories were there?

But beyond all of that, “Kintsugi?” Jude frowned.

The bickering paused. “You aint heard the name Kintsugi before?” Smithy asked. “That’s what everyone at sea calls the captain. The way he hungers for treasure; they say he’s got gold runnin’ through his veins.”

“I heard he drinks it hot and molten, like a dragon!” Lottie exclaimed, her eyes wide and bright.

“Dragons aint real, Lottie,” the humongous man beside her whispered, giving her shoulder a little nudge. “He’d pro’lly die if he did that.”

“That’s how you know he’s badass, because he hasn’t died,” she pointed out, waving her hands in front of her as if to present her logic.

Jude sighed and sat forward. “What’s The Skewering all about, then?” he asked, hoping to get them back on track and away from all the fairytales.

“We crossed paths with another pirate ship, and cap’n invited their officers aboard,” explained the buccaneer, who scooped up his fork and wildly gestured with it to help tell his story. “Everything was peachy until— BAM!” 

He stabbed the fork down onto the table, wedging its prongs deep into the wood and making everyone around him jump from surprise. 

“Kintsugi disarms the cap’n and his first mate, and skewers them together with their own swords. Then, whoosh—!” He snatched the fork back up, sending splinters flying as he hurled it down the length of the table. “Tosses them overboard while they’re still alive, struggling to untangle the blades as they sink down into the depths!”

Jude paled as the rest of the table burst into cheers and hollers. The thought of drowning a maimed man wasn’t quite as visceral as teeth tearing into his flesh, but it was less far-fetched, which left Jude with an even larger pit of dread in his stomach.

“Is he… Prone to things like that?” He asked tentatively, greatly fearful of the answer.

“We’ve certainly seen our fair share!” Smithy raised a glass to his friend as he reminisced. “Oh fuck, remember the French naval ship? When he beat us all to the chase?”

The buccaneer let out a deep belly laugh, his amusement jostling the entire table. “He swung from the ropes when we were coming up on their starboard— By the time we docked, he’d take out the entire crew with a single blade!” He gave Jude’s shoulder an excited pat, urging him to listen. “His coat was red for weeks!”

Jude exhaled a shallow breath as he looked around the table. His crewmates were growing more animated as they remembered and shared more tales amongst themselves, and soon his initial question was left trampled underfoot.

As blood curdling as their accounts were, everything still had an air of whimsy that made them difficult for Jude to believe. The conversation hadn’t helped him at all, and only left him more curious for the truth. 

He uttered a thank you, which was muffled under his friends’ boisterous chatter, and rose from the table. He supposed if he wanted to learn more about the captain, he was going to have to hear it from the source.

It was fairly easy to slip past the rest of the crew as they sleepily sauntered around, taking to their various morning jobs and ordering the nearest underlings around. As soon as he was atop the deck, Jude jumped up onto the bannister and used the shroud ropes to guide himself along the edge of the ship, staying out of everyone’s way whilst scanning his gaze across all of them. He tiptoed past his labouring companions and hoisted himself further up the ropes, carefully creeping higher as he approached the helm in search of the captain. 

Before Jude could reach the top of the shroud, a vicious wind caught his sleeve and threatened to pull his grip loose. It was lucky the gust stopped him in his tracks, for once he steadied his footing and looked down at the deck below him, he spotted the captain walking up to the wheel of the ship.

Straps was already there, stood beside the navigator with a spyglass held up to her eye. She paid Kit no mind when he approached her, and for a moment the two stood in silence as she searched the horizon. It gave Jude time to reposition himself on the ropes, hiding himself amidst the sails and shifting onto his back so he could more comfortably listen to the captain’s conversation.

When the first mate gave no greeting, Kit spoke up. “How do we fare?” he asked, without any sign of impatience in his voice. Jude supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised— he clearly held himself differently when he was alone in Straps’ company, but his calm indifference was such a jarring contradiction to the stories he’d just heard in the mess hall.

Eventually, Jude heard the clicking of the telescope as Straps wound it shut. “Not good,” she uttered, and though her face was slightly too far away for Jude to make out, he could clearly hear the distress in her voice. “Take a look.”

Jude leant forward as far as he could, though it did little to help as he watched the captain take up her spyglass. He found himself holding his breath in anticipation as the captain gazed through it, waiting to find out what was on the other end.

Eventually, Kit lowered the spyglass and thrust it back into Straps’ grip. “Fuck,” he muttered, and even from afar, Jude could make out the sudden tenseness of his shoulders. “Definitely British. Can we change course?”

“Unlikely,” Straps responded sharply. “If we’re close enough to see them, then we are close enough to be seen. They’ll want to say hello.”

Jude frantically turned to look over his shoulder, straining to catch sight of the English vessel they’d spotted in the distance. 

 “Then we’d best greet them first,” Kit announced with a reluctant sigh. 

Though Jude saw nothing without the aid of a spyglass, he wasted no time in grabbing a rope and swinging himself back down onto the main deck. He hit the ground running; if they were going to come face to face with another ship, he was determined to be prepared this time.

The weapon racks had been moved from the upper deck, but another pirate directed Jude down to the gun deck with a cocked eyebrow at his urgency. He hurried down below, rushing past unbeknownst crew members as he searched for the familiar glint of shining steel, and breathed out a relieved sigh when he caught the sight of sharpened blades. 

There was a hefty collection of spears and halberds, but his gut told him to take up a sword. He’d only practised once or twice with the pole, and something told him a thin blade would better aid his inexperience. With a firm grasp, he took one of the cutlasses down from the rack and spun around to head back upstairs.

Jude froze when he turned on his heel, jolting at the sight of Sebastián with his arm outstretched, reaching for Jude’s shoulder.

“Goodness!” Sebastián exclaimed, quickly withdrawing his hand. “Somebody’s jumpy. Whatever is the matter?”

Jude tightened his grip around the sword’s handle and carefully lowered the blade out of their faces. “There’s a naval ship,” he whispered urgently. “I overheard Straps spotting it on the horizon.”

Sebastián’s face shifted when he heard the news, his startled smile melting into a stern look of concern. He threw a glance over his shoulder and scanned the deck full of bustling pirates going about their business, then when he turned back to Jude, finally placed that hand upon his shoulder.

“Wait downstairs,” Sebastián urged, with a newfound glint of worry in his eye. “If I take up my sword now, we may cause a ruckus. Let me finish my duties, then I’ll be ready to join you and keep you safe.”

Jude exhaled an exasperated sigh, “I don’t need—” but he was cut off when Sebastián leant forward and pressed their lips together. It should have been a sweet gesture, but Jude was already fidgeting to storm the opposing ship and cut down as many British officers as he could get his hands on, not stand idly by and exchange sweet affections behind the safety of the cannons.

Though he was cut off, Sebastián seemed to gather his intention. “Downstairs,” he repeated once he’d pulled away, giving Jude’s shoulder a quick squeeze before he rushed back down the length of the gun deck.

Jude gritted his teeth and made straight for the stairwell, leaping up to the main deck without hesitation.

The stories shared over breakfast had piqued Jude’s hunger for answers, but what he’d observed of the captain on deck made him ravenous. Nothing was fitting together— where his companions saw severity, Jude saw soft-spokenness, and so far, his infamously firm hand had only been offered to Jude gently. As much as he recognised that Kit could be intense at times, how could he who suggested a change of course be the same man to slay an entire ship with one sword?

All Jude could wonder was whether he’d been sheltered from the captain’s true colours by the safety of calm seas, and if the rigours of battle would finally reveal the monster within. He would need to be quick if he wanted to find him before the naval ship did, to observe what kind of man he was with a blade in his hand. 

Jude kept up his pace once he reached the deck, and made straight for the shroud to climb high and watch for golden strands blowing in the wind below.