MF - Saviour of Ships - #8 Homecoming

 

(Josie Sayz: This is a story of mine that I started writing several years ago, and I finally got around to editing it. It is based off a MERP_UK game that an old friend and I started working on together. The game got lost very early on and will never be revived. I originally wrote the story for the old friend that I was working on the game with, however, as I know he will never get to read it, as we are no longer friends, I am quite proud of it. I’m finally over the emotional attachment and am ready to edit my story and share it.
Part 1: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2021/11/mf-saviour-of-ships-1-blackout.html

Part 2: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2021/11/mf-saviour-of-ships-2-awakening.html

Part 3: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2021/11/mf-saviour-of-ships-3-serpents-tongue.html

Part 4: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2021/11/mf-saviour-of-ships-4-cerulean-eyes.html

Part 5: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2021/12/mf-saviour-of-ships-5-pillage-village.html

Part 6 : https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2021/12/mf-saviour-of-ships-6-arrgh-avast-ye.html?zx=9d74b01bf7d5ab62

Part 7: https://josiesayz.blogspot.com/2021/12/mf-saviour-of-ships-7-escape.html)

 

Homecoming

Cheers roared in the distance. Peter’s stomach spiralled. His heart raced. Sweat trickled down his back. In front of him, stood centre stage, was King Charleston. Peter watched from behind, as the king, draped in a flowing admiral blue cape, edged in gold trimming, mumbled to himself, whilst he shuffled a stack of papers at the podium in front of him.

Over the edge of the stage, a swarm of people gathered. Thousands of Castellians pushed and shoved their way to the front of the stadium, awaiting the king’s speech. Muffled chatter echoed off the stone walls that surrounded them. Staring out, over the crowd, Peter’s chest trembled at the sea of heads that shuffled around, like the sway of the tide.

“Who’s that?” Peter heard a voice, from the front of the crowd, ask, as they pointed at him. Swallowing, Peter rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, dropping his sight to his shoes. The king cleared his throat. Gasps and hissed shushes silenced the gatherers. The rapping in Peter’s chest loudened.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Castellus,” projected the deep, crisp voice of His Majesty. “We are gathered here today, as many of you may be aware, following dangerous activity in our waters.” Cries and gasps echoed around them. “Yes, it is with deep sadness, I inform you that the destruction caused on our harbour, a month ago, was indeed the act of piracy.” The king paused, allowing whispered mutterings to pass between his people. “Now,” boomed King Charleston, bringing silence to the crowd once more. “Some of you may have heard the rumours that Moonstone Fortress was conquered and the ancient conspiracy of the legend of the moonstone was in motion to transpire. By looking to the sky, that fateful day, one might have difficulty believing otherwise… and that man would be wise to think so, for the self-proclaimed Pirate King Valder did the unspeakable, the unthinkable. Dastardly deeds that one does not wish to dwell on, on a day such as today. Many of you, I know, will have lost loved ones, sailors whom left for the seas, never to return. The pirate, Valder, is to blame.” More gasps and woeful cries screeched into Peter’s ears. As the king cleared his throat again, the murmurs and cries died down.

“Now,” King Charleston continued, “Today is not a day for mourning, but of celebration. Ladies and gentlemen, people of Castellus, I am proud to present you all to our hero, Peter Peterson.” Shuffling towards King Charleston, Peter felt his chest hammer and his thoughts buzz, as he looked out over the thousands of men, women and children that rammed themselves into the stadium to see him. The gatherers murmured amongst themselves, as they stared up at Peter. “This boy, Peter Peterson,” the king continued. “Went undercover, disguising himself among pirates.” Gasps and cries echoed around him once more. “He risked his life to protect those around him, to protect those most dear. Many lives were lost… some of which happened on our very harbour.” Grumbles and murmurs muttered amongst the onlookers. “This man,” the king went on. “Our hero, Peter Peterson, brought down this self-titled leader and saved our seas. Not only has he brought security to our kingdom, but to all the lands. Our neighbouring leaders of Barkton Versulin and Langti have expressed their gratitude to our hero, Peterson.” The crowd thundered into applause. Joyous screams, shouts and whistling blared in Peter’s ears, as he rose from his seat.

As the cheers blared out, Peter glanced around at his surroundings. A stone wall circled the stage. Men upon horses gathered at the stadium entrance, at the back of the crowd. With the king’s noble guards looming down over the villagers, Peter shuddered. ‘Crowd watchers,’ Peter observed. His heart hammered. ‘All watching over me.’ Twisting his head towards King Charleston, Peter’s stomach spiralled. His palms dampened. His intestines knotted. A head full of powdered curls faced him, with a golden crown nestled on top. The scraping of steel sent a shudder up Peter’s spine, as the king removed his sword from a sheath at his waist. As the king turned towards him, a lump formed in Peter’s throat.

“Kneel,” instructed the king. Lowering his head, Peter dropped himself to his left knee. “I, King Charleston, bestow upon thee, Peter Peterson, the honourable title of Saviour of Ships,” King Charleston announced, as he tapped the tip of his sword’s blade on Peter’s right shoulder, before rising it over Peter’s head to tap his left. “Moonstone Fortress now belongs to you.” Cheers and whistles echoed off the stone walls. A breathy gasp escaped Peter, as his lips parted. His eyes sparkled. “Rise, Sir Peterson,” boomed the king. The crowd broke into a chorus of cheers. “For his astounded bravery,” the king spoke to his people. “And his triumphant efforts, I hereby decree today, November the seventeenth, Peterson Day.”

As applause, cheers and yelps of joy screeched out over the crowd, Peter’s palms dampened and his cheeks tingled. Stepping to the side, King Charleston, nodded at Peter and gestured a hand towards the podium. Peter’s heart thudded. His chest trembled. His throat tightened. Straightening his back, Peter tugged at his russet, leather waistcoat, as he stared out over the sea of people before him. “People of Castellus,” he announced, waving a hand out. The crowd exploded with cheers, applause, whistles and cries of joy. As their expressions of happiness eased, Peter continued, “When I joined Captain Halaken’s crew, upon the Charleston, I had no idea I was set for such a wild tale. Sailing was never my thing,” he told them, as he ran a hand across the back of his neck. “I didn’t know what I wanted from life… that is until I met some people that touched my heart. Before joining the Charleston, I had never had friends. If it wasn’t for the Sea Wolf’s attack, I never would have met these amazing people.”

Holding his right arm out, Peter arched his head over his shoulder, to the line of people sat in the chairs behind where he had been sitting, moments earlier. “People of Castellus,” Peter continued. “Captain Halaken, Lawson, Brandon, Sanders and Hughes have been like family to me. They took me in, when all seemed lost. They guided me along the way… and without them none of this would have been possible.” As the crowd applauded, Peter’s friends joined him at the podium. A chuckle escaped Peter, as Brandon hugged an arm around his shoulder. “With the help of my friends, I kept fighting, but for what and why did it matter?” Peter’s heart panged. “I met someone. She helped me see what matters most: love, compassion for others and keeping people safe. Before I met her, I never understood those things, but now they are what I hold most important. I want to help people. I want to keep you all safe.” As the audience screamed, with excited cheers and beat their hands together, Peter felt a hand cling to his right elbow. His stomach fluttered with an explosion of butterflies. His heart raced, as his eyes met with a pair if twinkling cerulean ones. A grin stretched across Peter’s cheeks. Flickering his eyes down at her gown of an ocean-teal, with twinkles of icy sparkles that shone in the sunlight, Peter felt his cheeks and ears burn. Placing his left hand on hers, Peter told the crowd, “I am honoured for my title of Saviour of Ships, however, my sea travelling days are over.” Gasps hissed. “I wish to return to Shipwreck Cove and restore the wonderful Wreck-Age Inn to its former glory, in memory of the late Owen Garrin, with my partner by my side.” Cheers and squeals commended them. Twisting his head towards Lela, he gave her hand a squeeze. Smiling at him, sparkles glimmered from her waterline. She sniffed, before resting her head on his shoulder.

“We shall continue working for King Charleston,” Peter continued. “Through our passing messages between vessels. We aim to keep watch over the seas’ activities, through residing in the main trading point. However,” Peter’s booming voice bounced off the stone structures surrounding the stage. “This does not mean Moonstone Fortress will remain unoccupied.” Mumbles of confusion sounded. “I would like to introduce you all to someone very dear to me.” A gap appeared on Peter’s left side, as Brandon and Hughes shuffled to the side. A pair of boots thudded beside him. Peter turned his head and beamed. Clasping a hand on Peter’s shoulder, the man exchanged a warm smile with Peter. “People of Castellus, I would like to introduce you all to Adrean Blagden. He and some of his men have sworn oath to King Charleston and now fight alongside us, as privateers.” With confused mutterings circling around them, Peter announced to the crowd, “I trust this man with my life.” A few gasps silenced the gatherers. Peter turned to Captain Blagden, with another warm grin. “When Valder wanted me dead, it was Blagden who risked his life to save me. He knew he could have been killed, because of his actions, but he chose to put me before saving his own life. If you could find it in yourselves to give Captain Blagden a chance, like our king has, it would be most appreciated, for I am placing Moonstone Fortress in his hands.” As applause filtered into the room, Peter heard a shuffling, from King Charleston behind him. Poking his head over his shoulder, Peter locked eyes with the king and gave him a firm nod. Raising a hand to the crowd, Peter said, “Thank you,” with a nod, before leading his group back to their seats.

“Thank you Peterson,” the king nodded. “As Peterson said,” projected His Majesty, as he faced his people. “I entrust you will show Captain Blagden the same respect that you show Captain Halaken. As for this King Valder, he is the afternoon’s entertainment of public execution, a hanging at Spectating Square.”

As the stadium of Castellians, beat their hands together and stomped their feet, with excitement, Brandon clasped a hand on Peter’s shoulder, from behind him, and whispered, “The old coot was right.” Chuckling, Peter frowned at his friend. “The old guy, who gave ya yer shoes.” A frown fixed on Peter’s forehead. Glancing down at his, his eyes widened. A shudder crept up his spine. “Yer did great things, Petey,” Brandon beamed. “Yer the Saviour of Ships.”

 

The end

 

- Josie -