Chapter Nine

Things had been fairly peaceful lately, which was strange. With everything that had gone on since Arthur's alliances with Elizabeta and Sadik, he had to say he was surprised that it'd been a whole two weeks since anything eventful happened. Sure, he had his raids, stole money and took supplies, but that was normal pirate stuff. Maybe completely obliterating Ranson and his crew finally got his message across that Arthur Kirkland, the captain of The Raven, and the ruler of the seven seas, isn't to be messed with.

Like that would ever happen, Arthur groaned in his head, rolling his eyes, and slouching over the wheel of the helm. If his life had taught him anything, it's that he's not that lucky. Even with his streak of peace, he had his defenses up. More so than ever, as a matter of fact. He sat up, straightening his posture, and sighing.

At the forecastle deck, he could see Alfred and Matthew training with their daggers, taking swings at one another, and dodging and blocking with perfect skill for their age. Arthur would've yelled down for them to stop, but he trusted them. Within the past two weeks, the boys had been training hard, asking for lessons from him, Francis, Kiku, and Alistair. Their sudden interest sparked up quickly after Ranson and his crew died. It made sense, after Alfred got hit on the face, Arthur could tell that the boy wanted to have greater skill than he already possessed. Matthew, on the other hand, felt guilty. He had told Arthur that he felt like he should've protected Alfred, which wasn't his job, but it was still sweet. Within those two weeks, the boys progressed astonishingly. They ended up training three or four times a day, and were excelling.

"They're doing very well," Kiku praised, standing next to Arthur, and breaking into his thoughts.

"The boys?" Arthur asked, clarifying that's what Kiku was referring to.

Kiku nodded, "Hai, they're learning quickly."

"Well, you helping them out with lessons is making it go faster," Arthur added, "I've been meaning to thank you, Francis, and Alistair."

"It's no problem," Kiku dismissed, "they're fun to be around, and very respectful."

Arthur felt a little pride in the complements toward his sons, as he is the one who raised them to act like that, "Still, though, thank you. You've helped me a lot."

"Seriously, Arthur, Alfred and Matthew aren't that hard to take care of," Kiku replied.

Arthur shook his head, glancing over to his Japanese friend, "I'm not talking just about the boys, I'm talking about everything. You've been a good friend to me since we met, and helped me with all my struggles… Thank you."

Kiku stared at him for a moment, his brown eyes wandering off, "Arthur you're like a brother to me, why wouldn't I help you out when you need it?" He smiled, "I'm glad I was here to help, and thank you for everything over the years, too… And hey," Kiku paused.

"What?" Arthur tilted his head to the side

"Thank you for not making me be your First Mate."

Arthur laughed, leaning forward a bit, "I didn't know that was such a relief for you."

Kiku hesitated, "It's not like I wouldn't have been honored, it's just… I don't feel like I'm cut out for it. Especially if you died and I became captain."

"The tragic part isn't that I died, it's that you became captain, right?" Arthur asked sarcastically.

Kiku kept the joke running, "Of course, who would care if you died?"

"Alfred and Matthew?" Arthur suggested.

"Nope, they said they wished I was their dad." Kiku chuckled, turning and starting to walk away, "I'm going to go grab some lunch, you going to join me?"

Arthur shook his head, "No, go ahead, I'm not that hungry… Oh, and if you see Francis, send him up."

Kiku crossed his arms and faked a scowl, "Why, so you can talk bad behind my back?"

"Yes, I'm going to tell him how much I hate your guts, and my plans on murdering you. I'm sure he'll laugh and want to join in on the fun." Arthur shifted his weight to his right, and stretched his arms. He'd been standing at the helm all day.

"Hey, as long as it's quick, I'm good," Kiku replied over his shoulder, descending the stairs, "I don't care if it's painful, just make it quick."

Arthur relaxed, "I'll keep that in mind."

Kiku chuckled lightly as he continued to the main deck, then headed to the galley. Arthur stared back to his sea, watching its blue-green waves roll. They crashed against his ship, rocking it back and forth rhythmically. It was peaceful for the moment.

Alfred and Matthew, now finished with their sparring match, descended the stairs into the galley, walking slowly and looking pitifully exhausted. Arthur couldn't help but smile pridefully. Though they still had much to learn, and were still very young, those twins were his legacy.

"Captain!" Alistair yelled, a strange fearful tone in his voice, "We're in trouble!"

Arthur knew that his streak of peace would end eventually, but couldn't it last at least a few more days? He slouched a little, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, more annoyed rather than scared. Who would he have to bother with this time? "What is it?"

Alistair paused for a moment, staring through his spyglass, "The Viking's on the horizon, and she's coming in quick!"

"The Viking!" Arthur exclaimed, feeling sweat collect on his forehead and the back of his neck. With everything going on, he should've expected bounty hunters to show up eventually, but he didn't think they'd catch up this quickly. Besides, The Viking usually stays further north. Had his price raised that high that they came all the way down?

"How do you want to respond?" Alistair cut into his thoughts.

Arthur considered his options. There was always the option of fighting and sinking the smaller ship that was The Viking, killing the crew and ending the problem forever, or he could attempt to run. The bounty hunter's ship was smaller than his, but had large powerful sails, making itself very fast and distracting. It's canons did considerable damage, but nothing The Raven hadn't taken before. He opened his mouth, planning on ordering to fight, when a quick thought interrupted him.

The Viking never sailed alone. Never. She always sailed with General Winter. The ship had heavy and strong armor, and all its weapons dealt a terrifying amount of damage. One good hit from those cannons could render Arthur's defenses almost completely useless.

"Captain?" Alistair asked desperately.

"Is she alone?" Arthur called, looking up to the fire-haired Scot.

"No, General Winter is with her."

"I'm not risking it," Arthur started, "I'm running… Full sail!" He ordered, turning his ship around, "Get on cannons, Beilschmidts, get on those puckle guns! Alistair, climb down and get the boys to my quarters, and somebody get Bonnefoy up here!"

"I'm right here!" Francis yelled, sprinting up the stairs from below deck, then up to the helm, "What's going on?"

"Kølher's on our arses," Arthur panted, growing more nervous.

"Kølher…" Francis breathed, "The captain of The Viking?"

"Yes, those bloody bounty hunters," Arthur snapped, sounding angrier than he meant, "Can you see them?"

Francis turned and looked behind them, staring for a moment, "They're closing in… We're not going to outrun them."

Arthur knew the Frenchman was right, "We need to try, we can't afford to fight them." Feeling panic rising in his chest, he glanced behind himself, seeing Kølher's ship catching up to them, as Braginsky's lurked in the background like the threat it was.

"Just incapacitate them really quickly," Francis suggested, making it sound easy, "then get the hell out of here."

Arthur shook his head, immediately dismissing the idea, "They're too good at maneuvering, they'll buy enough time for General Winter to get in range."

"Well, if we're in range for them, then aren't they in range for us?" Francis exclaimed quickly, sounding panicked.

"We can't take canonfire like that," Arthur stated firmly, looking over his shoulder, trying to get a visual on Kølher, who was nearly in range, and coming in on portside. "Damnit!" He yelled, expressing his frustration and fear. So many worst-case scenarios sped through his mind, making him consider just turning himself in so no one would get hurt. He had a high price on his head, and that's what they were here for. But he couldn't give up without a fight. He was Captain Arthur Kirkland after all. They might be Kølher and Braginsky, but he was a Kirkland.

Kølher was in range, too close for comfort. There was no way he would outrun The Viking now, so he delivered the first shot, "Fire port canons!" He bellowed, straightening out his ship, and getting in the best position for the attack. The bounty hunter seemed taken by surprise at the sudden switch from retreat to aggression, however they still ended up dodging most of the cannonfire. Only a few cannonballs actually made contact. Arthur actually growled in anger, realigning his ship, aiming the front cannons at the bounty hunters, then giving the order to fire. Miss.

He ground his teeth, turning his ship away from Kølher's, trying to take this chance of distraction to escape. No such luck. Kølher quickly caught back up, and fired his cannons, hitting the back of The Raven, the impact causing Arthur to stumble, "Jackass!" He cursed at the bounty hunter, who swung around on portside, Arthur ordering another fire, the cannonballs making better contact this time.

Beside him, the puckle guns fired loudly, though it didn't distract him, he was too used to the sound. Out of nowhere, an arrow flew past his face, missing him. Arthur was about to mock the archer's inability to hit him, until he heard a loud yell of pain to his left. He turned his head to Gilbert, seeing him collapse to the floorboards, an arrow sticking out of his right shoulder. He hissed in pain, holding the wound with his left hand.

Seeing Ludwig turn and go running to his brother, Arthur stopped him, "Beilschmidt, stay on that gun!"

"Ja, Captain," Arthur heard Gilbert grunt as Ludwig reluctantly complied.

"No, Gilbert stay down, I wasn't talking to you." Arthur ordered lightly, trying not to yell at him.

So they had a sniper, and by the looks of it, they had a good one. Arthur sighed, giving another order to fire starboard cannons, making better contact on the other ship. However, three of the men on his cannons were shot dead with arrows. This sniper was a pain in the ass.

"Somebody get that sniper!" Arthur shouted to the entire crew, seeing Kiku pick up a rifle, and begin firing.

As the two ships passed each other, Arthur laid eyes on the archer. He was high up in the ratlines of The Viking, his legs tangled in the ropes, providing him enough support while leaving his arms free. An arrow went flying toward Kiku, barely missing him, and hitting Alistair in the hip, who was standing right beside him. The Scot fell to the floorboards with a grunt, but stood back up, limping heavily, and continuing to load cannons.

"Fire port cannons!" Arthur ordered again, spinning the wheel of the helm, changing the direction of the ship. An arrow shot between the pegs and got stuck on the railing in front of him, blocking the wheel from turning in either direction. When the cannons fired, his ship hadn't turned enough to land a direct hit, so it missed completely.

"Well fuck!" Arthur yelled, failing to pull the arrow out of the railing.

"Wait, wait," Francis said quickly, grabbing the wheel and pulling it towards him, "push it, and break the arrow."

Arthur pushed with all his force and weight, hearing the wood of the arrow crack, split, and finally break. His weight threw him off balance, while the wheel threw the ship off course. "Goddamnit, it's like they're playing with us." He panted, realigning the ship in the direction he wanted. He shook his head, "Somebody kill that sniper!"

More gunfire sounded in reply to his order, but nothing hit that damn archer. Arthur clenched his teeth, ordering more cannonfire, but nothing made contact. Again. Alistair drew his attention, opening a bottle of rum, shoving some cloth down the opening, and lighting the end on fire. Arthur had to give the man credit, a molotov was a creative solution to ridding of the sniper.

"Don't miss," Arthur instructed, smiling a little at the creativity.

"Yes sir!" Alistair yelled back, heaving the bottle onto the other ship.

Technically, Alistair didn't miss. He threw the molotov high in the air, above the sniper and hitting the ratlines, which would light the ropes on fire, forcing the sniper to get down or burn. The bottle didn't break on contact, but more bounced off, and fell into the ocean. Arthur sighed in disappointment.

Kølher's ship went off course a bit, giving The Raven more space, and giving Arthur a chance to escape again. The bounty hunters cut them off, keeping them out maneuvered. Arrows flew through the air, but didn't aim at anyone. A few just flew by the sails, then fell into the sea, forgotten.

"What, did he forget where to aim?" Francis asked mockingly.

Arthur didn't like the look of this. This sniper had them distracted, and was picking off his crew one-by-one. He'd already killed five people, two of them being new recruits. Why would the archer suddenly change tactics? Three arrows were shot, one after another. Each of them were flaming, and hit the sails, lighting them on fire.

"How do we put that out?" Arthur whispered, probably not loud enough for even Francis to hear. He was panicking. How would he put that fire out?

More men were shot down, mostly those on cannons. He didn't like it, but he knew what order he had to give, "Francis, you need to get on a cannon."

Francis looked disappointed and stressed, but followed the order, "Yes, sir."

As the Frenchman started to leave, Arthur caught him by the arm, "Don't get shot, got it?"

Francis laughed, "Of course." He turned to leave.

Arthur pulled him back, tightening his grip on his arm, "I'm serious, don't get shot."

The long blond smiled at him, "Don't worry, I won't."

Arthur let go of his arm, letting him run down the stairs. He was only a few steps down when a arrow hit his coat, pinning it to the stairs. With a huff, Francis pulled the arrow out of the floorboards. He took only a few more steps when his pant leg was pinned down, making Francis fall on his face with a grunt. He reached for the next arrow when another pinned his sleeve.

Arthur's patience was running thin. Although the sniper was now playing with Francis, it didn't mean that he shouldn't be doing his job. "Get on a cannon!" He yelled, his temper getting the best of him.

Pulling another arrow out of his coat, Francis replied, "I can't, Capitaine!"

Arthur cocked his jaw to the side, closing his eyes for a brief moment, making that second of peace feel like forever. The world seemed to silence just for that insignificant second. All that archer was doing was distracting him, he needed to focus. He needed to incapacitate The Viking before General Winter caught up.

He opened his eyes, spinning the wheel of his ship to the right, calling out, "Brace!" After just a few heartbeats, his ship smashed into Kølher's, his battering ram doing a great deal of damage to the bounty hunter, throwing the sniper off the ratlines, and into the deadly waters below.

Rapidly turning the wheel again, he managed to pull away from the other ship, ordereing cannonfire. Every cannonball made close-range, powerful contact, splintering the wood of The Viking. Arthur just hoped it was enough to incapacitate them, or at least slow them down.

Finally seeming safe, Arthur started to retreat with his burning sails, hoping to God, something he doesn't even believe in, that they can get him far enough away to outrun Braginsky. No such luck.

Arthur heard a deep boom from behind him. He turned his head, watching as cannonfire from General Winter soared through the air, leaving a trail of smoke behind them. There were a few seconds of ominous silence before they pounded into the side of The Raven, cracking it's wood and armor. Arthur closed his eyes and grit his teeth, hating the sound of his ship being as damaged as it was.

"Those were my quarters…" Francis whined from the main deck, throwing his arms in the air.

Arthur shot him a glance, but didn't reply. He was in the middle of internally panicking, he was a bit distracted at the moment.

"Captain, are you going to get us out of here or what?" Alistair shouted at him, pulling him back into reality.

Arthur blinked, and turned the ship, trying to make it as hard as possible to hit and catch up with. But with the burning sails, and broken armor, his ship was slower. It was amazing how much damage a single ship could do, and he had to wonder where Braginsky gets his cannons.

Another deep explosion sounded, and cannonballs flew through the air, hitting the side of The Raven again. To his fortune, it wasn't as direct of a hit. "Fire!" Arthur ordered, responding to the aggression with his own attack, knowing that it wouldn't have nearly as much of an impact, but hoping it would slow down the bounty hunter.

He, and most of his crew, were suddenly thrown to the ground with a strong hit. Arthur stood up furiously, glaring at The Viking that had rammed into them then pulled away. Their ship wasn't built for that, and although they had a small battering ram, their armor was too damaged to attack like that, so why did they?

A distraction. Just like everything else they do, it was to distract. As Kølher pulled his ship away and regained distance, Arthur looked to Braginsky, who was also about to use their battering ram against their weaker side. Fear spiking in his chest, Arthur called out an order, trying to turn his ship out of the way, "Brace for impact!"

In his attempt to save his ship and crew from the powerful hit, he didn't manage to brace himself. He was thrown to the ground again, the world around him dimming and falling mute for a few terrifying seconds. Arthur sat up in a semi-unconscious haze. His ears rang, and his head pounded. Unable to completely understand what was happening, he watched ropes fly over the side of the ship, and seeing about six or seven people cross over and engage in battle. Putting a hand to his head, he felt warm blood slip over his fingertips.

"Arthur!" An accented voice to his left called, sounding desperate, "Are you okay?"

Arthur turned his head and blinked at the source. Recognizing the albino as his friend Gilbert, shook his head, trying to regain his grip on reality, "I'm fine," he grunted, feeling pain rush to his bleeding head. He looked around a second time, not only seeing Braginsky's crew on his ship, but now seeing four men of Kølher's crew board as well.

With anger boiling inside him, Arthur drew his cutlass, stood up, stumbled, and continued down the stairs. Sure, he was slightly dizzy, but that didn't matter. He was the most skilled sword fighter, he wouldn't, or couldn't, be beat.

He knew exactly who his quarrel was with. Ivan Braginsky, the Russian captain of General Winter, and the main muscle behind the bounty hunter duo. The man was taller, boader, and stronger than Arthur was, but he didn't care. Braginsky was going to be reminded who owned the seas.

Seeing the bounty hunter fighting Ludwig, and obviously giving him some trouble, Arthur took this as the perfect chance to intervene. This was also convenient for him, for the two were already in front of his quarters, and like always, he would be guarding it.

Arthur jumped into the battle, giving the Russian a flurry of powerful, but quick attacks, making him back away from Ludwig. Braginsky was having trouble keeping up with Arthur's fast advances, but he did manage to keep Arthur from ever landing a direct hit… or any hit for that matter. As the battle went on, Braginsky fought with more ease, actually attacking with his own aggression instead of just blocking.

Their swords clashed hard, Arthur pushing against the other man's superior strength. He wasn't winning this, so realigned his sword, Braginsky's sliding off of his, giving him an opening. Arthur took the chance, aiming for the neck, but the bounty hunter caught him by the arm, twisting it around his back, and making him drop his cutlass. Arthur let out a short call of pain, his shoulder twisting and tensing. He fought against his opponent, but before he could break free he was kicked away and below deck.

Like his head didn't hurt enough.

Disarmed and dizzy, Arthur laid on the floorboards, fighting unconsciousness with all his will. He rubbed his face with his hands, picking up his head, and forcing himself to his knees. The movement slightly nauseated him, but it shouldn't matter. He was a Kirkland. Attempting to stand and ascend the stairs, his dizziness increased and he nearly fell back down them. He caught himself by the railing, and sighed. You're not fit to fight, Arthur thought, his eyes closed. But it didn't matter. No matter how unfit he was for battle, he had to continue, not just for his status and act, but for his crew and his boys.

His gaze raised to the top of the stairs, where he saw Braginsky standing still, waiting for him to come back up. Arthur chewed on the inside of his cheek, considering his options. Running up the stairs and forcing himself back into battle with the Russian was a terrible and idiotic idea, that would only end in his loss. He was much too hurt to use brute strength, he needed to outsmart the bounty hunter. Take him by surprise.

No matter how much he hated to admit it, he and Braginsky had very similar qualities. They were both powerful with strong and loyal crews. They were both feared, very rich, stubborn, and arrogant. Arthur, in a sense, needed to figure out how to outsmart himself. At this point, Braginsky and Kølher were outnumbered, the Russian didn't have the time to stand up there and wait, he would eventually have to continue on to a different opponent, and that's when Arthur would have to strike, using stealth. Just to get Braginsky to lose interest...

Arthur fell back down to his knees, pretending that they gave out beneath his weight. Trying not to further his head injury, he fell forward onto his stomach, but kept himself at an angle where he could still see the Russian. Faking unconsciousness isn't something most pirates do, and if he was honest with himself, he didn't expect Braginsky to buy it. But the Russian walked away with a scoff.

Smiling to himself, Arthur stood back up, the world spinning again. He blinked a few times, realigning his sight, then continued to the storage room, where he took an extra cutlass, and headed up the stairs.

Arthur immediately laid eyes on Braginsky, who had now picked a fight with Kiku. A mistake on the Russian's part. Kiku was the fastest swordsman on the ship, and had mastered both offensive and defensive tactics of fighting. Arthur started to head in their direction, trying to take the Russian by surprise and end the fight quickly, but in the corner of his eye, he saw a glint of sunlight reflect off metal, and barely dodged the swing of Kølher's battleaxe.

Matthias Kølher, the Danish captain of The Viking, was a very cocky man. He was an aggressive fighter, and had a powerful weapon. He spun his axe close to both himself and Arthur, trying to distract and draw his attention elsewhere, using the same tactic as he did when piloting his ship.

The axe swung at Arthur's head, and he ducked beneath it, slicing towards the Dane's abdomen, barely missing the strike. He jumped back, trying to keep his distance. Kølher swung his axe around, Arthur blocked a few strikes and dodged a few others, but most of the movements didn't hit him, nor were they meant to. The bounty hunter swept Arthur's leg out from under him in a quick flash of movement, using the staff-end of the battleaxe.

Arthur landed hard on his back, the air being forced from his lungs. He had only a second to wheeze, before rolling out of the way of the axe, that cut through the boards of the main deck, and got stuck. Still out of breath, Arthur climbed to his feet, and put Kølher in a headlock, kicking his knees out from beneath him, and choking him. "You jackass!" He yelled as something seemed to be finally going his way in this battle. Kølher struggled, but Arthur had leverage.

To his left, a man with short, pale blond hair pointed a loaded pistol at Arthur's head. Arthur turned to the left, putting Kølher between the two of them, and hiding his face almost completely behind the Dane's head. No one was good enough of a shot with a pistol to directly hit him without killing the bounty hunter as well.

The man stood still, his hand stable as it held the pistol even with Arthur's forehead. His deep blue stare was cold and emotionless, his eyes narrowed, his hand tightening slightly around the handle, but his finger steered clear of the trigger. Kølher attempted to choke out a few words, so Arthur tightened his arm around the Dane's neck.

The pale blond's eyes shifted ever so slightly to the right, then laid back on him. Arthur, in response, looked to his right, seeing a giant of a man just a few steps away from tackling the two of them. He guessed that hadn't heard him coming through the commotion of the battle. He turned, trying to put Kølher between the two of them, in attempt of relieving himself of the full force of the attack, but he was just a few seconds too late. His attacker, an extremely tall and muscular blond, barreled into him, throwing all three of them to the ground. Just as his luck would allow, both his attacker and Kølher landed on him, slightly crushing him. The back of his head was forced against the floorboards, where he was, again, knocked dizzy.

When the two large bounty hunters got up off of him, Kølher hacked his lungs out and gasped for air, while Arthur rolled onto his side, holding his pounding head. He let out a long groan, his skull feeling like it had split open. Slowly, he opened his eyes, staring out around him. The pale blond who was previously pointing a pistol at him was know with Kølher, obviously making sure he was alright. The tall blond hadn't gotten too far from Arthur, only a few paces away, where he was know helping Braginsky beat down Kiku. Arthur's eyes traveled to Alistair, who was kicked hard in the bleeding and injured hip, then pinned down by a young, long haired woman. Francis, up near at the forecastle deck, getting dangerously close to the bowsprit, was getting tag-teamed by a short blond, who seemed to be doing nothing but distracting, and a tall brunette, who seemed to have a similar fighting style as the Frenchman. Ludwig, and surprisingly Gilbert, were fighting together, trying to fend off a younger man, looking about the same age as Li Xiao, and another blond man, about Gilbert's height.

Everything was going to hell. They were losing. Horribly. There had to be some way to settle this, end it before anyone else died. Arthur hated the idea, but he had to turn himself in. They were here for him, he had a high price on his head, which is why he wasn't currently dead. If he wanted everyone who was currently still alive to stay that way, he had to turn himself in.

To Arthur's rage, he saw a single arrow soar through the air, hitting Kiku directly in the collarbone. The Japanese man called out in pain, distracting him so Braginsky could give him a potentially fatal blow, cutting him deep in the ribcage and across the chest. Kiku fell hard to the ground, screaming and holding the gaping wounds.

Arthur, drawing strength from his anger, stood, then fell, his dizziness keeping him from going anywhere. He sat up, giving the movement another go, but the barrel of a pistol was pressed against his forehead.

"I'll actually shoot this time… Stay down." The pale blond hissed, his cold stare feeling like ice.

Arthur met eye contact, or at least what he thought was eye contact. He was seeing doubles, "No you wouldn't, I'm worth too much alive."

"Stay down," The bounty hunter hissed harshly, his deep blue eyes narrowing in aggression.

Arthur gave another glance to his crew. Most were pinned and hurt. Francis was now disarmed and cornered. He let out a quick huff, "Fine." He adjusted to a kneeling position.

"What?" Francis immediately exclaimed in protest, "You can't be serious!"

Arthur dismissed the Frenchman with a slight wave of his hand. He paused before he directly spoke to any of the bounty hunters, "What do you want?"

Braginsky chuckled, walking away from Kiku, who was still on the ground groaning in pain, "What do we want? You can't be serious… You do know who we are, right?"

"I'm aware…" Arthur paused, a wave of nausea and head-splitting pain flowing over him, "of… who you are, I'm not stupid," He finished harshly.

"Then I'm sure you know what I want." Braginsky said with a sarcastic smile, "Will you be cooperating, or will we be having a rematch? I have to say, our little quarrel didn't go so well for you last time."

The insult itched under his skin, his pride making him angry, but he didn't have an answer for the Russian. Fighting him again would only end in his loss and further his injuries. However, it didn't feel right just turning himself in, even if it was in better interest of his crew. He sighed, closing his eyes, "I'll cooperate." He hated giving up.

"What?" Francis basically screamed, "Non, Capitaine, you can't just give up!"

Arthur didn't reply, he just kept his eyes closed.

"You're not going to beat him for speaking out against your word?" Braginsky teased.

"For what? I'm a dead man anyway, might as well leave my worthless crew off on a high note… Give them something for them to be grateful for." Arthur grumbled with a roll of his eyes. He really didn't care to act at this moment, but it had become reflex for him over the years.

"I really didn't think you'd care." Braginsky walked closer to him, his purple stare seeming skeptical.

"When facing death, cruel men can turn kind." Arthur half-slurred, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Braginsky continued to walk around the ship like he owned it. He would step close to members of Arthur's crew in a non-aggressive manner every now and then. It seemed like he was observing them in a way a doctor observes a patient. "How long have you been speculating your death, Captain Kirkland?"

Arthur narrowed his eyes, not completely understanding the question, "What…" he paused, trying to figure out the rest of his sentence, "what do you… mean?"

For some odd reason, the Russian laughed, "What are you, drunk? I can barely understand a word you're saying, you're slurring so bad."

"I…" Arthur trailed off, blinking and nearly falling forward, "yes, I-I'm drunk." It may be punch-drunk, but drunk is still drunk, he added in his head.

"I will repeat my question for you then, a lot slower this time," Braginsky replied in an insulting manner, "How long have you been speculating your death?"

"Why do you ask?" Arthur questioned, focusing hard so his words wouldn't slur together.

"Because you say that 'when facing death, cruel men can turn kind...' It seems like you've been awfully nice to your crew lately." The bounty hunter walked back to Arthur and stood, towering over him.

"You really think I'd be kind to those incompetent arseholes?" Arthur exclaimed, "They're lucky that I didn't let you slaughter them!"

Braginsky stared down at him, his face falling into an unamused stare, "Really?" He started cynically, "Then perhaps you wouldn't mind me taking a look?"

"What—?"

"How about Bonnefoy? Feliks, Toris, bring him over." Braginsky ordered, not waiting for Arthur to finish his protest.

Francis struggled against the two men, nearly breaking free a few times. The brunette pushed Francis' rapier sword against his neck, making him stop his resistance. His light blue eyes burned in anger as he glared at Braginsky.

"Calm down," Braginsky said in a strangely soothing tone. He put a finger below Francis' chin, and tilted his head up, causing the Frenchman to fight more, "Bonnefoy, I'm not going to hurt you, you have too high of a price on your head for that," The Russian said sounding bored.

"Francis, just… calm down," Arthur ordered slowly and quietly.

Francis stared at him for a moment, before he looked back to Braginsky, his body still tense. The Russian looked him up and down, taking off Francis' coat, and inspecting his bare arms. The Frenchman looked confused, but he didn't fight back. After a few moments, Braginsky turned away from Arthur's First Mate, and walked back over.

"So, for being as abusive as you are, he really does lack bruises." Braginsky reported, looking Arthur in the eye.

"He's been behaving," Arthur slurred, putting a hand to the back of his aching head, "I haven't had a need to… to beat him."

Braginsky crossed his arms, "Uh-huh… Well, who doesn't behave?"

"Why do you even care?" Kølher rasped, rubbing his throat with his left hand. He paused to cough, "Let's just take them and go."

Braginsky stepped closer to the Dane, speaking low in his ear. Kølher went to argue back, but he broke into a coughing fit. After Kølher calmed down, the two continued arguing. Arthur closed his eyes, trying to relieve himself of the immense pain in his head, but was interrupted after a few moments of darkness, when he caught himself from falling forward. He blinked, attempting to push away strong feeling of nausea and dizziness, but it was to no avail.

"What is this all about?" Arthur grumbled, growing impatient with the bounty hunters, who seemed like they were ignoring his question. Arthur didn't have the energy to yell or threaten them, not that his threats would be very intimidating at this moment anyway. He slouched in his kneeling position, lowering his hands to the sides of his head, and rubbing his temples.

"Kirkland," Braginsky started, sounding irritated, "who on this ship doesn't behave?"

Arthur understood and heard the question, he just didn't know why it was relevant. Before he could reply, Gilbert did, "That would be me," the Prussian spoke up, raising his left hand slightly. Arthur turned his head and stared at him. Even with his blurred vision, Arthur could tell Gilbert was pale, covered in blood, and in pain. He was sitting on the first stair that lead to the helm, slouching as he leaned against the railing to the side.

Braginsky apparently has some sense kindness because he walked over to Gilbert instead of having him escorted over. However, Ludwig stepped into the Russian's path, blocking it. He held his sword steadily, and his eyes burning in anger.

"Luddy," Gilbert said quietly, before continuing, "he's fine, stand down."

Ludwig turned and looked back at Gilbert, before he reluctantly complied with a sigh, taking only a few steps away, still holding onto his sword. Braginsky knelt beside Gilbert, inspecting him also, looking mostly at his face, and gently turning his head from side to side. He unbuttoned the Prussian's shirt, being careful of the wound on his shoulder, then closed it after a short glance.

Braginsky stood and turned back to Arthur, crossing his arms as he strolled over casually, "I will repeat myself when I say that for being as abusive as you are, he really does lack bruises."

"What are you trying to prove here?" Arthur snapped, trying to get Braginsky to reveal his point.

A smile pulled at the Russian's lips, "You've gone soft."

"What?" Arthur exclaimed, further irritating his migraine, "I have not gone soft!"

Braginsky shrugged, "You've either gone soft, or you're just a liar."

"I'm not…" Arthur trailed off, realizing that there was no way to save himself this time. The evidence was all in front of the Russian, not one man on his ship had even a papercut that was given to them by him, Arthur Kirkland, an "abusive" captain. This could mean trouble, lots of trouble. He blinked, ran his tongue over his front teeth, and continued, "How can I keep your mouth shut?"

"Well, you don't have much to worry about, you and Bonnefoy still have a one-way ticket to the gallows, so…" Captain Braginsky replied, not really answering Arthur's question, "you don't really have to worry about anyone finding out, you'll be dead."

Arthur didn't waste a second, "How much did they pay you?"

"What?"

"Your client," Arthur clarified, "how much did they offer?"

Braginsky rolled his purple eyes, "Twenty-five thousand."

"I can double it." Arthur offered, attempting to barter for his life. Being the feared and powerful pirate that he was, he never thought he'd become this petty, but survival was important. He had two sons to raise.

Braginsky only replied with another offer, "Quadruple."

"Triple."

"No, no, no," Kølher but in, shaking his head, "triple isn't enough."

"That is seventy-five thousand." Braginsky commented.

Kølher angrily gestured to the half-destroyed ship, "Look at what he did to my Viking! Tino almost died!" He exclaimed, "Seventy-five isn't nearly enough!"

"We don't have that much." Arthur said desperately.

Braginsky shrugged, "Then there's nothing we can do."

Arthur hurriedly searched his mind, trying to come up with some other solution to his problem. He glanced at The Viking a few times, seeing that its partial destruction was the source of Kølher's rage. There had to be something he could offer, "We'll… I'll pay for an estimate on the ship."

"I can estimate it myself, thank you," Kølher spat bitterly.

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying," Arthur replied quickly, "I'll have my carpenters take a look at it, and I'll pay you enough money for repairs."

Kølher narrowed his eyes, adjusting the battleaxe in his hands. "Just give us the supplies for repairs then."

Arthur shook his head, causing his stomach to wrench, and almost throw up, "I... can't spare my supplies, we have our own repairs to make."

There was a long pause in the conversation, which surprised him. Braginsky was obviously willing to barter, but Kølher had given the impression that he definitely was not. Although still fuming, his gaze bounced between pale blond haired man, and Braginsky. The pale blond started speaking a different language in a hushed tone. Arthur wasn't knowledgeable of the language that the two were now speaking, but probably would've at least recognized it if his headache and nausea weren't ailing his cognition as much as it was.

After Kølher was finished speaking with the blond, he and Braginsky took a few steps away and also discussed the topic. Only a few moments passed before the team of bounty hunters made up their minds.

"We will take the offer," Braginsky said, clasping his hands behind his back in a prideful manner, "we cannot promise that we will not run into each other again, Kirkland, there are many people out there that want to see you hanging from a rope… You are safe for now, though." Braginsky paused, but before Arthur could reply, he brought up another point, "We also cannot promise to keep what's in your quarters a secret."

Arthur's heart rate spiked, "You know what's in my quarters?" He growled slowly, panic rising in his chest.

"Well, not exactly," The Russian emphasized, "but everyone knows that you protect the door to your quarters… There's something important and highly valuable in there, and we can't promise to keep our lips sealed."

Relief washed over him. They didn't know about the boys, or at least not completely. If their client was given a tip to separate him from his quarters, then the public would know, but until then, he had nothing to worry about.

Arthur rolled his eyes, pretending to shrug off the threat, "Everyone knows that a pirate's most prized possession is in their quarters, that's no secret." He quickly changed the subject, "I will retrieve your payment… Please allow my First Mate to accompany me?"

"Sure," Kølher grumbled, still seeming unhappy with the barter.

Francis started to hurry over, but Arthur didn't wait for him. He stepped carefully and slowly, the sway of the ship seeming more significant than usual. He placed his hand over the handle of his quarters, but didn't turn it. This would be the first and only time he'd entered his quarters with an enemy on his ship. Sure, they were behind a closed door, but what if Braginsky or Kølher saw the boys when he slipped in? With a quick breath, he opened the door just far enough for him to squeeze in.

Yao greeted him, unsheathing his sword, before stopping when he realized who it was. Francis slipped in behind Arthur as well, and closed the door. Without addressing Yao, or either one of the boys, the strode to his desk, and plopped down in his chair, and slouched. He put a hand to his head, rubbing it gingerly.

"Francis, can you get the money? I can't see straight." He slurred.

"What?" Francis asked, tilting his head in concern.

Arthur dropped his hand from his head, and into his lap, "The money," he emphasized, "can you get it? I…" He trailed off, not finishing his statement.

"Of course…" Francis paused, "Are you alright?"

Arthur shook his head, but replied with, "Yes."

"After they leave, I'm having Ludwig look at you, you're not well at all." Francis stated.

"Only after he tends to Kiku and Gilbert… They're not dying because of my headache."

"Uncle Kiku and Gilbert are dying?" Alfred exclaimed loudly.

Arthur sat up, "Hush, there are still enemies on our ship…" He closed his eyes with a sigh, "Kiku and Gilbert are hurt, but they're going to be fine."

"What's going on?" Matthew wondered quietly, jumping up onto Arthur's desk and sitting on it.

"Bounty hunters," Arthur groaned, "they boarded our ship, we're paying them off."

"Paying them off?" Alfred asked.

"Well, since I am wanted, they were hired to capture me and turn me into the authorities or the navy or something…" Arthur stopped, trying to figure out where he was going with his statement. He had a reason for saying it, but as he went on, he had forgotten his point. He glanced back to Alfred, "What was your question again?"

Alfred was quiet for a long moment before he repeated his question, "What do you mean by 'paying them off?'"

"Right," Arthur recalled, "instead of letting them capture me and Francis, we're paying them more money than their client had offered them to 'arrest' us."

"Oh, okay. That's good that you're paying them off— oh my God, Dad, are you bleeding?" Alfred basically yelled.

"Hush," Arthur repeated, "you can't be heard, remember?"

"Dad, you're bleeding," Matthew said, pointing out the obvious, "we should get Ludwig."

Arthur dismissed them with a wave of his hand, "Yes, I'm bleeding, but I'm fine. Ludwig has bigger things to worry about right now. I'll get him when he's done."

To his right, he felt a hand placed gently on his shoulder, "Come on, Capitaine, let's finish this and get them off your ship." Francis instructed kindly.

Arthur sat up with a grunt, rubbing the back of his head as he walked away, "Stay quiet in here." He ordered his sons over his shoulder, the two of them nodding in reply. Francis led them out, both of them slipping through the doorway, and closing the door behind them quickly.

"Here's your money, you can go now." Arthur dismissed irritably, seeing Francis hand over a heavy bag of coins.

Kølher and Braginsky inspected the contents of the bag, making sure that they handed over the correct amount. Arthur was finding it difficult to continue standing, so he made sure Francis stood close, just in case he fell. The setting around him spun slightly, moving back and forth from his quarters causing his dizziness to increase significantly.

The seas must've grown a bit temperamental, as the sway of the ship was even stronger. Either that, or he was swaying back and forth with it. He stumbled to the side but managed to catch himself. A little embarrassed, Arthur put a hand to his forehead, "Well? Are you leaving or…" He didn't finish his sarcastic remark.

Braginsky passed the bag of money over to the tall, long haired brunette to his side, "We'll be getting out of your hair, Kirkland," He hesitated, "see you around."

Arthur didn't reply, he just watched as the bounty hunters finally left, returning back to their respective ships. They started to sail out of sight, when Arthur began wandering over to the edge of his ship, casually at first, but his pace quickened hastily. He braced himself against the side of The Raven, and threw up into the ocean below. He let out a long and loud groan, closing his eyes. "Ludwig…" He whined, hearing his voice quiver.

"Yes?" Ludwig asked carefully, standing beside him and rubbing his back gently.

"Go tend to Kiku, Gilbert, and the rest of the injured… When you're done, I'll be in my quarters."

Ludwig was quiet for a long moment, "Maybe I should tend to you first, Captain, you look… terrible."

Arthur shook his head, making himself dry-heave, "No," he panted, "they're extremely hurt, especially Kiku, Gilbert, and Alistair… Please, go tend to them."

"Yes, sir." Ludwig hesitated before walking off.

Arthur stayed in his position, pitifully hunched over the railing of his ship. He stayed like that for a long moment, allowing himself to wallow in his own agony. He sat up, still bracing himself with his hands, "Francis," he called weakly. The Frenchman hurried over, but Arthur didn't give him a moment to reply, "help me to my hammock."

"Of course," Francis said kindly, helping him walk to his quarters, " as much as I want to, I won't be able to stay in there with you for very long. Kiku isn't in the shape to be ordering people around, and there's only so much Alistair can do right now… I will leave your door open so you can holler if you need anything."

"I understand," Arthur replied, lying down in his hammock, "and thank you."

"It's no trouble," Francis smiled, "and hey, try to stay awake until Ludwig gets a look at you, head injuries are weird."

Arthur nodded, "I'll do my best."

"We can keep him awake," Alfred promised, gesturing to himself and Matthew.

Francis chuckled, "You'll keep an eye on him for me, then?"

"Of course." The twins said simultaneously.

"Alright then," Francis started, "feel better, Capitaine."

Arthur smiled slightly, "I'll definitely try." Francis then jogged away, hurrying out to the crew who was in need of his help, those who survived, that is. Arthur wondered if he ended the fight and offered them money sooner if more would've survived. He didn't have much time to think on it before the boys pulled him into useless and trivial conversations that he could barely pay attention to.

.

The light of the moon poured through the window to his left as he sat alone in his quarters, now at his desk. He shouldn't be up, he hadn't been sleeping well, and after the day he's had, he would definitely need his rest. However he couldn't help but stay up and continue working. A few crewmembers had advised him to go to bed, but he refused. He was much too busy, and way too behind on everything.

The few crewmembers that were still up and patrolling the main deck started speaking loudly to each other. It was all muffled through the wooden walls, but he could've sworn he heard the words "Get the captain."

Only a few moments passed before his door opened without a single knock. "Hey bastard," Lovino growled.

Antonio sighed, dipping his head, "Lovino," he said calmly, "what did I say about knocking on my door?"

Lovino glared at him before he pounded his fist on the open door, "There, I knocked, are you fucking happy now?"

Antonio pinched the bridge of his nose, deciding to ignore the aggressively sarcastic question, "What is it, Vargas?"

"Hey, don't Vargas me, I know what that means, you're calling me an asshole!"

Antonio raised his eyebrows and looked to the ceiling in exhaustion, "Are you going to get to the part where you tell me what's going on, or do I have to go ask somebody else? My patience is a little short right now."

Lovino grumbled something under his breath that Antonio couldn't make out. "Braginsky and Kølher are here."

Antonio stood excitedly, "Why didn't you tell me?" He rushed out of his quarters to greet the bounty hunters that they had hired a few weeks ago. Ivan Braginsky and Matthias Kølher, along with both of their First Mates, Toris Laurinaitis and Lukas Bondevik, stood on the main deck. The four looked tired, and their ships both looked battle-torn. However, there were two things missing to the picture. Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy.

"Where are they?" Antonio asked, somewhat accusingly.

"Captain Carriedo," Braginsky started in a kind tone, "we appreciate your offer, but we got a better one."

Antonio narrowed his eyes, "What do you mean?"

Kølher stepped in, gesturing as he spoke, "You offered the two of us twenty-five thousand, well… Kirkland tripled your offer, and everyone know's what a bounty hunter's true love is."

Lovino crossed his arms, making his naval badges reflect the moonlight, "What the fuck? We had a deal!"

"They made a better one." Braginsky shrugged like it was obvious. He leaned forward, "Unless you can make an even better one?"

Antonio shook his head, "No, that was our best offer."

"Is the Spanish Navy really that broke?" Kølher laughed.

Antonio's smile dropped, "Is there any other reason you are here?"

"Actually, yes," Braginsky started, raising his right index finger in a matter-of-fact way, "although Kirkland gave us a lot of money, he also nearly destroyed Kølher's ship, so we're not the happiest with him. We can give you his general location, and some other useful information, for the right price."

"You double crossers have enough money, we can find that bastard on our own, thank you." Lovino growled in a threatening manner.

Antonio put a hand up, signaling Lovino to back down, not that he listened. Instead of waiting for Lovino to continue his rant, he interrupted, "We don't need Kirkland's location, but what price do you demand for this 'useful information?''

The bounty hunters hummed in unison, "Three hundred?" Kølher offered, raising a blond eyebrow.

"Two hundred." Antonio demanded.

They surprisingly took the offer, "Alright, but you pay in advance." Kølher ordered.

Antonio nodded in agreement, "Lovino, retrieve their payment from my quarters."

"Don't you remember what happened last time we payed in advance?" Lovino reminded bitterly in Spanish, "they turned back on our deal?"

Antonio replied quietly, also in Spanish, "We're also a naval patrol, if they backstab us again, their ships will sink and we arrest the survivors."

Lovino walked away without a reply. Antonio stood with the four bounty hunters in an awkward silence, although it was nice to get out of his stuffy quarters. The breeze was nice, and even a tad chilly.

"Here." Lovino pushed a small box of coins into Braginsky's hands, where he inspected it. After a few heartbeats, the Russian smiled.

"Kirkland's ship is badly damaged. I managed to get a few hits in with my cannons," Braginsky started, "Kølher and I both did significant damage with our battering rams, and his crew suffered many casualties thanks to Matthias' talented sniper."

"So you're saying that now would be a good time to strike?" Antonio attempted to clarify.

Braginsky continued, "That's exactly what I'm saying… Kirkland himself has a bad head injury, though his First Mate is in fair condition."

Now would be the perfect time to strike, Antonio thought. With his ship damaged, a good quarter of his crew dead, and Kirkland himself injured, the fight would be easy, as long as they could catch up. "Go on," Antonio commanded kindly.

"Well," Kølher started, "this next part isn't completely on topic… When you get him, board his ship. He has something extremely valuable in his quarters."

Antonio's curiosity spiked, "What is it?"

"No one knows, but, even when Kirkland was beaten down and half conscious, he still managed to put himself in between us and that door leading to his room." The Dane explained, "Whatever it is, he'd die before anyone even turns the handle."

Antonio was now glad the spent the money on the information. His superiors probably won't be when they find out, but he could deal with that later. He smiled slightly, knowing that the Spanish would finally get Kirkland. He was weak and vulnerable, all they needed to do is catch up to him. And if The Raven is as damaged as Braginsky and Kølher said it was, then he won't have to worry about catching up. He extended his right hand to shake the bounty hunter's. Sure, the whole ordeal didn't go as originally planned, but this way the Spanish themselves would get the full glory of capturing and killing Captain Arthur Kirkland once and for all. "Thank you," Antonio said gratefully, shaking Braginsky's hand, and then Kølher's.

Translations:

Hai (Japanese)- Yes

Capitaine (French) -Captain

*Nervous laugh* Hey guys, you remember when I said the chapters were going to get longer? XD Well I didn't expect the chapter to be this long. Honestly, I've been working on writing description, and this gave a ton of practice, as this chapter is almost all description. When I first started writing this chapter, I knew it was going to be the longest one I have so far, if not the longest in the entire fic, but I didn't think it would be 23 pages (in google docs). Now, I'm sure most of you don't mind, but I feel like this chapter might be a bit too long, but that's my own opinion since I don't have practice writing this long of chapters.

Anyway, I still hope you enjoyed it. In this chapter there were mentions of payments for the bounty hunters. I did as much research as I could for this, but if this is inaccurate please feel free to let me know in comments or PM.

~Feliks Out!