Chapter 7: Stolen Crown

Somewhere below deck, awaiting their fate within the belly of the beast, was the helpless crew of the Blackjack. Each sailor that was dragged below deck found themselves in jagged caves of sharpened planks and orbiting splinters. A few odd splinters were lit on fire, dimly lighting the mouldy digestive tract. There was barely enough space to sit down.

Amidst these cages, holding the battered and bruised from their descent, were none other than Diana, Gisla, Captain Tornstar and Darzel all side by side.

Diana was pulling splinters and wooden shards out of her flesh, though she seemed to be mostly unbothered by the pain.

Darzel was hanging upside down, he'd managed to hook his feet over one of the ceiling beams in pure simian fashion. The man got straight to a series of upside down sit-ups.

Captain Tornstar had, since the ship's attempt at assimilating them, been continuously kicking at the planks that formed the cage. Each time a rotten plank would snap and each time another plank would appear to take its place.

For Gisla, this was her first time anywhere on the ship that wasn't scented by either perfume or seasalt. She wanted to sit, but couldn't bear the thought of touching the floorboards.

"Father, this place is disgusting. You said Mikey was dead - where was he hiding then? We've been stuck in this cage for like five billion hours. I'm tired, I'm hungry and I'm over it," she commanded, her heels finally ceasing their repeated stamping as she grew tired.

“I’d watch your tone Ms. Gisla,” the first mate Diana suggested, though kept her eyes on the splinters that plagued her.

“Why? Why should I? All this man does is fuck up my life! He fucked up the academy! He fucked up my work with Mikey!” she began to berate her father, exploding into rage as she then let a small comment slip under her next breath. “It’s even his fault mother died.”

Her father turned from his escape attempts and whisked his gaze towards Gisla. Opening her mouth for some quippy comment, the captain slapped her across the face with a sharp open palm.

"You've pushed it too far now. I'm over it. You let him out and you let him get away. He's running free on the ship knowing full well that I beat him half to death," the captain snapped at her, turning back towards the edge of the cage and continuing the kicking of planks.

Gisla's eyes teared up as she looked up to Diana for comfort. Diana however, turned away, not wanting to get involved in the family squabble.

"That city boy has no clue what he's unleashed. We fought tooth and nail to bring the Blackjack under control," Captain Tornstar finished.

Above the purgatory of the Blackjack's underbelly, Mikey found himself sitting on the railing of the poop deck, overlooking the ship as it sailed smoothly for its destination.

The sun was nearly at its apex without a cloud to hide behind. Mikey casually bathed in the light, satisfied with the turn of events.

Mikey had only spoken to the Spirit of the Blackjack briefly, requesting that he be given time to process all that's happened. The spirit however deemed the few hours that passed long enough as it's ghostly form materialised beside Mikey.

"Captain Mikhail Drewitt of the Blackjack, I believe it's time you make your choice on what to do with the prisoners in the hold," the ghostly figure spoke out, though it seemed to have a lot more compassion and warmth than it had sealed within the darkness.

Mikey looked to the spirit as it seemed to have taken on a much more feminine form. The entity was baby blue in hue, though slightly transparent, with its skin merging into a wispy dress that waved as if submerged underwater.

"Why do you look like that? You were creepier before," Mikey asked, dismissing the topic of the prisoners.

"I took a form I thought you might be less inclined to criticize. Perhaps I was mistaken," the spirit wavered, though it tilted its head slightly. "But you're avoiding it Captain Mikhail Drewitt, what shall be done with the prisoners? I cannot cook for humans, nor do I believe they'll accept my food if I could."

"I don't know, we could dump them at San Lenard but they'd just follow right after us," Mikey commented. "Unless we keep them here and dump them when I'm finished…"

"Shall I wake up Chef Lucienne? The crew seem to be rather restlessly hungry."

"That old loaf. Said he didn't care who ran the ship so long as they let him get drunk," Mikey scoffed with no amount of surprise, but an inkling of amusement.

"Yeah sure, go on then. Wake him up," he waved the ghostly figure away, though she did not move. "Oh, right, you can just - whoosh. Hey wait, does that mean you've seen me jerki-"

A few minutes after sorting out some of the technicalities of the spirit's invasive perception over the ship, they moved on from the topic.

"So what do I call you then? Mini Blackjack? Ghost Girl?" he asked, looking at the feminine appearance the spirit had chosen. "Maybe just Lady Blackjack is appropriate."

"I've a name already, an old name," Lady Blackjack went on to explain, though Mikey waved it away with a lackluster gesture.

"Nah, doesn't matter. Lady Blackjack's your name now," Mikey looked away with a cheeky smile. "How exactly did Captain - well, just Tornstar, pull such a crazy ass ship like you under control?"

"It is an ancient tale, one with many names you won't recognize. So I shall begin with me having sunk, sunk to the bottom of the sea with no hope of ever escaping. Roland Tornstar, a young ambitious captain, was the first of many that had passed by - the only one that could hear me." Lady began to explain as a delicate howling from the wind passed through the sails.

"What you mean hear you?" Mikey asked, frowning as he looked back to Lady, though his frown loosened when he realised what exactly he was talking to.

"For years, centuries even, I cried and sang for the chance that someone from the old crew would turn up again. They said they'd come back for - haul me from the depths. The first one to hear me was Roland. He'd hired a collection of mages to pull me from the depths - but instead of freeing me from the prison of the ship, he sealed me within it. Bound to the molested darkness inside, Roland usurped a pathetic amount of power from me over the ship. But his command was an infant compared to my own. This is my body, my very presence - not some husk that I inhabit," the tone of Lady turned bitter. "That amulet was what held the seal in place. A gross insult to my very being. A gross insult that you've let fall victim to the high seas."

"I just make things float Lady, this is all above my league," he chuckled in disbelief, hopping off the railing and standing up. "So you could just make a set of stairs straight for where you're keeping them all, correct?"

"Correct," Lady replied with a nod of her ethereal head. A rickety set of stairs formed together with the snapping and warping of wooden planks. It led straight down from Mikey's first step.

"Well aren't you a darling," Mikey jested.

Making his descent, the lack of airflow within the hold let a sinking rot sit on the tip of Mikey's nose.

However, as he continued down the stairs, the smell of an obnoxious perfume began to overpower the rot.

Mikey found himself in a small hallway, splintered cages holding the sailors on either side write down until the end of the hall. At the end of the hall, stood scowling back towards Mikey, was the Captain and his company.

"Well, well, well. Tables turning and all that jazz, kinda funny isn't it?" Mikey laughed as he made dramatic, heel first steps across the floor.

A few sailors spat in disgust, others murmuring between themselves.

"The Blackjack is a monster kept at bay only with that amulet. You're childish Mikhail - childish!" the captain continued kicking at the planks, roaring at Mikey as he made his approach.

"Oh shut up already, I'm not here for you. I'm here for your daughter," Mikey said as he arrived in front of their cage. Gisla had rather frustratedly pouted, looking away from Mikey.

"I'm interested in all that magic work you have upstairs, so let's make a deal yeah?" Mikey asked as he'd managed to garner a bit of attention from Gisla. "I say I'm sorry, and we get back to work, deal?"

He raised his brows and chuckled, looking to Gisla in an attempt to provoke an answer from her at least.

"I hate you," she uttered in reply.

"Oh! And if it's a no, then I'll just let you all swim back to Zeal Mar Keistar. Starting with your scum of a father of course," Mikey elaborated, his ego inflating almost larger than the Blackjack itself.

"Go," Diana whispered as Gisla felt an elbow in her side.

"Mmmm…" Gisla mumbled, almost baring fangs as she replied to Mikey. "Fine then."

"Awesome! Take us up!" Mikey yelled out, turning and walking back down the hallway as planks floated in front of him, forming a stairway through the air and through a broken open gap in the ceiling - though it was shortly patched over.

Gisla on the other hand was not so lucky. A rope whipped down from the ceiling and wrapped around her waist. As it pulled her up with a sudden jerk, she couldn't help but let out a squeal.

Dumped onto the deck, Mikey made his tasteful ascension before stopping and turning to face Gisla.

"I'm sure you're hungry. Lumpy's been working really hard on your meal today! It's even better than your usual and I can promise that the steak's not cold," Mikey grinned as he sat down, crossing his legs to face Gisla.

A small snake like rope slithered across the deck with its midsection wrapped carefully around a small bowl of stew. Gisla sat up with her knees splayed to the side. Holding her arms and rubbing them frantically, she was clearly struggling with the seabreeze in only her nightgown.

"Good thing that stew's hot! We can get you back into your little sanctuary as soon as we sort out business," Mikey said, gesturing for her to start eating.

Reluctantly, Gisla grabbed the stew and took a spoonful. Her face almost turned the shade of green as she spat it to the side - letting it splatter across the deck. A floating mop and bucket of water soon came to clean it.

"Welcome to normal people food!" Mikey couldn't help but laugh. "Now, business. I want you to show me every ounce of magic you're hiding in that room of yours. No matter how big or small."

"You've got a pair on you. You're nothing more than a city trash orphan with a few neat tricks," Gisla snarled, standing up and tossing the stew to the floating mop and bucket for them to clean up. "How about, you let everyone go and we don't strangle you in your sleep later?"

"I'm not sure you could anymore Gisla, you've made sure of that," Mikey smirked as he walked towards the edge of the railing, turning his back to her rather confidently. "See I've figured a lot of things out and it's all thanks to you."

With his self-absorbed grin, Mikey squared his stance and stretched out his arms towards the distant horizon. Tensing his muscles, he smirked as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Charge!"