OOC: This thread serves as one part in a potentially larger anthology of similar-themed and similarly set threads from the wider Earth II world concerning pirates and pirate-themed works primarily from the Age of Sail. This thread concerns the North Atlantic, primarily from the Açores to the Western Mediterranean Sea. For more information, please see the OOC Thread. To participate in this thread you must be a member of Earth II. All active, Earth II participants, please speak to me over Discord or through telegram concerning your role in the thread - if you would like one.
Into the Mouth of Peril
Barbary Pirate - Edward Mortelmans
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep;
And in his simple show he harbours treason.
The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.
No, no, my sovereign; Gloucester is a man
Unsounded yet and full of deep deceit.
(Shakespeare Henry VI, part 2)
.:.
Prologue
The Man Who Would Be King
Barbary Pirate - Edward Mortelmans
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep;
And in his simple show he harbours treason.
The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.
No, no, my sovereign; Gloucester is a man
Unsounded yet and full of deep deceit.
(Shakespeare Henry VI, part 2)
.:.
Prologue
The Man Who Would Be King
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Monday, May 10th, 1706 | 18:00 hrs [GMT]
Kingdom of Sabtan | Almina Fortress
35° 53' 45" N, 5° 17' 24" W
Abdelmajid stood in the way that all powerful and violent men did when they were brooding, which was to say that he stood still, his eyes sweeping the scene in front of him and nothing more than an almost imperceptible pan of his head. He clasped his hands behind his back and let the breeze blow against his weathered and pockmarked face and unkempt, bushy, black beard. Sizing up the scene that lay in front of him, Abdelmajid stared beyond the window and the ramparts with severe, judgmental eyes that were as black as his beard and as cold as an iceberg. An imposing figure at a height of 6-foot-8, he towered over the man to his left and if his height wasn't a statement enough, his girth was as he weighed 385 pounds. Easily the tallest, largest, and most feared man in any room or on any ship, there were no questions as to why and how Abdelmajid had risen to throne of the Kingdom of Sabtan and why, as king, Abdelmajid commanded respect.
Abdelmajid was not a man to suffer from fits or rage or lose his temper easily. He was calm and calculating, a man of few words who let those around him speak until they were done speaking, who weighed the counsel of all before declaring his own ruling or opinion on any matter. There was no way to guess how Abdelmajid would decide, and his decision one day could contradict itself the next day. It left those around him in suspense, frustrated, awestruck, and sometimes all at the same time. Yet he was hardly indecisive, rather he approached each decision as its own entity, weighing newly presented information more heavily than that which he'd been given in the past, even if the past were mere hours. But this was Abdelmajid as a king. As a commander, he was the opposite. He gave orders in a booming voice that echoed across the deck of any galleon even in the fiercest of tempests and his orders were to be obeyed immediately. There was no chance for second guessing, no chance for doubt.
When he was a young teenager, barely twelve years of age, Abdelmajid left his parental home and enlisted in the navy. On his eighteenth birthday, he was awarded a commission to lieutenant or mülazim as it was called. As a leader, he was cunning, crafty, and patient; yet, as a commander, he was ruthless, merciless, and dominating and these traits complemented one another so much so that by the age of twenty-eight, Abdelmajid captained his own ship. By the time he reached thirty-three, he was the most respected and feared captain in the Mediterranean and it would be not the next year that he used his craftiness and ruthlessness to lead a bloody coup against the leadership of Sabtan. In one night, he and his supporters massacred the entirety of the royal family and no less than 50 leaders of the kingdom. By the end of his first year in power, he'd purged hundreds. Anyone who stood in his way or opposed him, he saw to their demise, sometimes personally.
Unchallenged since, Abdelmajid took the Kingdom of Sabtan beyond its own borders and negotiated a vast confederacy the stretched from the Açores in the North Atlantic to the Balearic Islands in the Balearic Sea. When operating as a whole, each state had equal say and equal share but no one state would dictate to another how to manage its affairs. It had no formal name as none could agree on one that elevated no one above another. Vast with resources, any state within the confederacy would have been strong and powerful on their own but as a cohesive unit they became a maritime behemoth that stretched across some of the most heavily transited water in the Atlantic and it was that traffic which sustained the states for piracy was their common link and piracy was what brought Abdelmajid to this very moment as he watched his ships battle with those from a kingdom halfway across the world. Piracy was both their sustenance and their almost linear demise these past four years.
It was the Açores that fell first, brought down in a campaign that seemed to last forever but which was all but lengthy. From there it was Madeira, Canaria, and now they were at his doorstep. Beyond Sabtan lay only Baleares and if Sabtan fell, the Baleares stood no chance. Yet Sabtan would not fall, so long as Abdelmajid sat upon the throne, which he defiantly proclaimed to both his subjects and his allies. It was one of the latter, an emissary from Baleares, who stood by his side, dwarfed by both the stature and the ingenuity of he who was king. He too stood in silence, studying the naval battle before them, in awe that the forces which toppled Açores, Madeira, and Canaria committed blunder after moronic blunder.
They stood steadfast as cannon shells pounded against the ramparts, as gunners returned fire, as the fortress shook from both incoming and outgoing fire, as messengers steadfastly entered the king's office to announce developments in the battle, as victory appeared before them. One such messenger had just departed not eight minutes prior and Abdelmajid waited for his orders to be carried out, waited to see the results of the trap he'd lain, a trap so simple in its crafting that it required only the enemy to commit a series of mistakes in sequence and now they had, as was required.
"This is the moment," Abdelmajid said, his voice filling the void of his office like smoke does in a box. Seconds later, the fortress shook immensely as ten cannons fired at once, a devastating salvo that would make viewing anything to the north impossible until the wind carried the smoke away from the fortress. However, Abdelmajid and the emissary weren't looking to the north but rather to the west where one particular warship had its broadside to the fortress, and which was the target of this massive salvo of ten, 48-pounders.
The cannon balls moved through the air like a bull in an alleyway, arcing downwards as gravity pulled them downward against their own desires. Little could be done to stop them though and each one came towards their target in an otherwise tight pattern, targeted and sighted by gun crews who'd practiced this very shot before. Abdelmajid's tactics had forced the target to cross at a broadside just beyond a small rock that jutted out at low tide, a rock that served as an aiming point for the 48-pounders battery. Firing at the fortress with its relatively ineffective cannons, the ship had sighted on the muzzle blasts from the fortress and was returning fire when suddenly it became enveloped in a massive ball of fire, proof that the salvo's effect was indisputably devastating.
It was the powder magazine that had blown, tearing the Falcon, a second-rate ship-of-the-line apart, reducing it and its crew of 550 men to cinders. Armed with eighty-four guns, the ship was serving as the enemy flagship. "You will see now," Abdelmajid said, his face expressionless despite the crippling victory he'd just won, "they will withdraw for their flagship is destroyed and their admiral dead. They will fight no more. We have won."
"Why destroy such a magnificent vessel?" The emissary asked, "Would not it have been better in our employ? They will return."
"This is my message to them. We have captured two ships already and their crew will be pressed into servitude, those who we deem fit of course. The destruction of their flagship shows that we are not to be trifled with. Let them return and we will do the same. This is a message."
"Victory."
"Victory," Abdelmajid repeated. Minutes later, the enemy ships began to withdraw and a messenger appeared to give the news. "Give the batteries a rest and commend the crews. We have won," he said, "spread the news throughout Sabtan. These men who believed themselves capable of toppling our kingdom now tuck their tails and run. They've no gumption to endure battle against Sabtan's brave soldiers. Let it be known to all from end-to-end that I, King Abdelmajid, have delivered victory against them." The messenger nodded and disappeared through the door as Abdelmajid turned away from the window.
"What now?"
"Return to your kingdom and inform of what you have seen here. Commend Iselda on her commitment to this fight. Her ships can leave victorious at their own will. Baleares can rest easy tonight."
"I shall," the emissary said before bowing his head.
"Let us dine together, the sun is going down now and battle has ended." Abdelmajid said as he finally turned away from the window, away from the ramparts, away from the destruction of the enemy flagship and the retreat of the remainder of their forces.
Nightfall was coming and the sky was darkening as the sun finally touched the horizon and began its journey beneath the Earth's terminator. Abdelmajid ignored the beauty he'd seen at sea countless times before and led the Baleares emissary deep into the fortress where a meal was already being prepared. Soon, Abdelmajid's top admirals and generals would be joining to celebrate their victory. Servants - slaves really - would bring food and wine aplenty until those present had engorged themselves into the comatose sleep of the overstuffed. Abdelmajid was more reserved, despite his physical appearance.
When finally the feast began, a toast was raised to King Abdelmajid the Great, as his subjects and allies called him. The Baleares emissary led the toast himself, as per custom. Abdelmajid didn't much prefer that epithet though. He preferred the ones his enemies called him, what the Columbians would be calling him soon enough, Abdelmajid the Beheader…
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