System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 90: Chapter 89: Ne Kadar Güzel Bir Gemin Var!

[Current Balance: 374,970,234 scudi, 93 baiocchi]

---

A day passed swiftly as La Providencia cut through the Tyrrhenian Sea.

Alaric found it mildly amusing that Captain Oldgate, despite likely being roaring drunk when they left Civitavecchia, had indeed ordered them to set sail immediately for Livorno.

The man’s dedication to a contract, especially one paying five thousand pounds, was impressive.

Now, it was morning and the galleon found itself enveloped in a thick fog, somewhere in the waters between the islands of Bastia and Pianosa. (These are islands near Livorno, Florence.)

They were making good time, already more than halfway to their next major stop. Visibility was poor, reducing the world to a grey, damp bubble around the ship.

The helmsman gripped the wheel tightly, peering intently into the mist, but Alaric noted he handled the ship with a calm confidence born of experience, likely honed under Oldgate’s, and perhaps even Old Avery’s, demanding command.

Alaric leaned against the railing near the helm and Captain Oldgate was standing beside him, both men gazing into the fog ahead.

”Now that I think about it,” Alaric began conversationally, breaking the silence, ”your old captain was notorious...”

He turned his head slightly towards Oldgate. ”Where did a man like that hide, when the world was hunting him?”

”Hide?” Oldgate raised a thick eyebrow, his gaze still fixed on the fog. He let out a short grunt. ”Can’t tell ya, lad. Made a vow with my ol’ captain. Some things stay buried.”

Alaric chuckled softly. ”Come on, Captain. It’s not like I’m going to run off and disclose his location to the Admiralty.” He leaned further over the railing, watching the crew expertly begin to shorten sail, reducing the ship’s speed in the low visibility. ”I’m just curious. Always interested in meeting legendary figures, you know?”

Oldgate turned slightly, giving Alaric a skeptical look before chuckling himself. ”It won’t do you well, kid,” he advised, resting a heavy hand on the damp railing. ”Trust an old sea dog on this. It rarely does anyone well to meet their idols. They seldom live up to the legend.”

”Who said he’s my idol?” Alaric countered, turning fully towards Oldgate. He casually reached into his pocket as his fingers brushed against the empty space where his cigar pack used to be.

Mentally accessing the System, he thought, ’Premium Cigar.’

[Premium Cigar - 1 scudo.]

[(2x) = -2 scudo.]

[Current Balance: 374,970,232 scudi, 93 baiocchi]

He withdrew his hand, now holding two identical, sleek black packs of cigars. He extended one towards Oldgate. ”I said, I just want to meet him. Maybe... lemme bribe you with this?”

Oldgate looked down at the offered pack, his eyebrows shooting up. ”Is this... the same kind of cigar you were smokin’ back in the tavern? Where in the blazes did you buy this out here?”

Alaric just chuckled. ”Let’s exchange information, Captain. A location for a source?”

Oldgate eyed Alaric, then the cigar pack, a mixture of suspicion and temptation warring on his face.

”Ye be toying with me loyalty to me captain, aye?” he grumbled, but his hand reached out and took the offered pack anyway. He tucked it securely into his coat. He sighed, then lowered his voice significantly. ”Libertalia... last I heard, he was building a haven there.”

Alaric’s eyes widened slightly in recognition. ’Libertalia... so he’s in Madagascar. That’s far,’ he thought, a slow nod accompanying the realization. ’Makes sense for the King of Pirates to hide away there...’

”Alright, I told ye,” Oldgate pressed, tearing open the cigar pack he’d been given. ”Spill it, matey! Where’d ye get these smokes, eh?” He pulled one out, sniffing it appreciatively.

”I made them myself,” Alaric replied simply, turning back to stare into the fog, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Oldgate stopped fumbling with the cigar, staring blankly at Alaric. ”Ye... ye craft’d these yerself?” he sputtered. ”Be ye pullin’ me leg, or what?”

He looked from the cigar in his hand to Alaric’s relaxed posture. ”You’re tellin’ me, ye be a fierce fighter, jumpin’ across ships, doin’... whatever that sorcery was... and ye be a master craftsman of fine cigars?” He shook his head in disbelief. ”Blimey...”

”Yup, I really did,” Alaric confirmed with a nod, pulling out his own remaining pack and selecting a cigar. He chuckled at Oldgate’s expression before bringing the cigar to his lips and lighting the tip effortlessly with his index finger. ”Hey, I’m not lying.”

Oldgate watched the casual display of fire manipulation, then the way Alaric took a deep, satisfying drag from the cigar. ”Did you just... light that... with your bare finger?”

”Yup,” Alaric replied nonchalantly around the cigar.

Oldgate just shook his head slowly, pulling out his own flint and steel. ”Right,” he muttered, striking a spark. ”Can’t be bothered by this sorcery anymore...” He got his own cigar lit, taking a puff and sighing in appreciation of the taste. ”Damn... this is the best one yet...”

Just as Oldgate was relaxing, Alaric, who had been calmly smoking, suddenly stiffened. His head snapped towards a specific direction off the port bow, his eyes narrowing slightly as he peered into the dense fog.

Oldgate noticed the abrupt change in Alaric’s demeanor and raised an eyebrow. ”What?”

Alaric took another slow drag from his cigar, exhaling thoughtfully before replying, a dangerous glint entering his eyes. ”We have company...”

---

Shapes began to take form out of the thick fog as two sleek, lateen-rigged ships emerged silently. They were closing fast, taking advantage of the fog to approach undetected.

”Lads, ready the sails!” Oldgate’s voice then booms towards the entire galleon. ”...But don’t loosen it up just yet.”

”That ship... ain’t a brig, but that’s also not a schooner,” Alaric muttered, observing the unique design.

”Aye... that’s a Xebec,” Oldgate confirmed as his eyes narrowed. ”Fast and maneuverable, favored by corsairs in these waters. They’re from the Ottoman sphere, alright.”

”Ottoman empire huh...” Alaric murmured, watching the lead ship draw closer.

Just then, Reuben and Flavia emerged from the hatch leading below the deck, drawn from the humongous captain’s voice.

”What happened?” Reuben called out, but as he followed Alaric and Oldgate’s gaze, he saw the two approaching ships through the thinning patches of fog, and his eyes narrowed warily.

Oldgate walked to the port side railing while Alaric lazily followed behind him. Reuben and Flavia joined them moments later, watching as the leading Xebec skillfully maneuvered alongside La Providencia.

The galleon’s crew, alerted by lookouts and the officers’ quiet commands, subtly armed themselves, muskets and pistols kept low behind the railings, while gun crews below the deck readied their cannons.

A man appeared at the railing of the lead Xebec. He was richly dressed in a green robe, a turban adorning his head, fingers glittering with rings. He looked to be in his forties, with a confident, almost arrogant air about him. He looked up at the massive galleon towering over his vessel.

”Ne kadar güzel bir gemin var!” he called out, his voice carrying clearly across the narrow gap of water.

(I’m just going to make the Ottoman Empire speak Turkish, I did some digging and they had lots of languages. I’m just doing this to simplify the writing.)

Oldgate remained silent with his face being unreadable. His arms crossed as he assessed the situation while the crew waited for his command.

Alaric chuckled softly beside him. ”You don’t understand a single thing he said, huh, Captain?”

”Shut it, boy,” Oldgate growled under his breath, not taking his eyes off the Xebec captain. ”You don’t understand him either.”

”Nah... I understand him,” Alaric smirked. ”He said we have a beautiful ship.”

Oldgate’s eyes widened slightly, and he shot a surprised look at Alaric. ”You speak their language too?”

’I sense some hostility from them... they’re not just admiring the ship,’ Alaric thought, his senses picking up the subtle tension and readiness from the Xebec crews.

”I speak lots of languages,” he replied noncommittally to Oldgate but kept his eyes fixed on the Ottoman captain. ”Now, I’ll humor this and be your translator. How do you want to reply?”

Oldgate stared hard at the Ottoman captain for another moment, his eyes narrowing. ”Nah,” he finally said with his voice being low and hard. ”Don’t need a translator for this. I know a pirate when I see one, no matter the flag.”

Without another word, Oldgate whipped out his heavy pistol from his belt, aimed, and fired.

*BANG!*

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