doesnotkneel | Entries tagged with where: havana

“Good morning, Duncan,” Woodes Rogers called from the docks. It was a fresh morning in Havana, the sun yet to reach full temperature and a light breeze blowing in from the Gulf of Mexico.

Edward started towards Rogers, but then he heard a voice shout, “Edward! Hello, Edward!”

For a second or so Edward thought it was a case of mistaken identity, even found himself looking over his shoulder to see this “Edward.” Until he remembered. Edward was Edward. He was Edward. Stupid Edward. Who, from a misplaced sense of guilt, had admitted his secret to Havana’s biggest babbler, Stede Bonnet.

( It went over well. )

[[ nfb, nfi, taken from the Assassin's Creed: Black Flag novelization. some violence under the cut. ]]

They stood around a large table in a private room inside the main building: Edward, Torres, El Tiburón, DuCasse and Rogers.

El Tiburón held a small box, and Edward could swear the man was glancing his way. Had the bastard noticed Ed while he was clambering around trying to get the maps back? God, he hoped not.

All the secrecy was giving Edward a load of hives, and the whispered phrases and names he didn't know doubly so. What had Duncan's letter said? A 'secret and noble cause'? Right. That'd be a lesson for next time he decided to pretend to be someone else: no noble causes.

But they all had their drinks so a toast was raised, Torres saying, “Convened at last and in such Continental company... England, France, Spain... Citizens of sad and corrupted empires.”

At a wave from Torres, El Tiburón moved across, opened the box he held and placed it to the table. Red-velvet lining and the gleam of metal from inside. Whatever it was, it looked significant and indeed proved to be, as Torres, his smile fading, the natural gleam of his eyes replaced by something altogether more serious, began what was obviously a ceremony of some importance.

“But you are Templars now,” he was saying. “The secret and true legislators of the world. Please hold out your hands.”

( Suddenly, everything went solemn. )

[[ based on and adapted from Assassin's Creed: Black Flag and its novelization. ]]

Edward went straight to Governor Torres’s residence, a vast mansion set behind steep walls and metal gates well away from Havana’s hubbub. There he told the sentries, “Good morning. Mr. Duncan Walpole of England to see the governor. I believe he is expecting me.”

“Yes, Mr. Walpole, please enter.” That was easy.

The gates squeaked, a hot summer’s day sound, and Edward stepped through to be awarded with his first glance of how the other half lived. Everywhere were palm trees and short statues on plinths, and from somewhere the sound of running water. It was a marked contrast to the fortress, opulent where that had been grimy, gaudy where that had been forbidding.

As they walked, the two sentries stayed a respectful but watchful distance behind, and Edward's limited Spanish picked up fragments of their gossip: apparently Ed was a couple of days late; apparently he was an “asesino,” an assassin, and there was something about the way they said the word assassin that was odd. The way they stressed it.

They came into a courtyard. There were two men already there. Both were well-dressed, men of class and distinction. More difficult to fool. Close by them was a rack of weapons. One of them stood aiming a pistol at a target while the other cleaned a pistol.

( You're Duncan Walpole, Edward told himself. )

[[ taken from the Assassin's Creed: Black Flag novelization. ]]

Stede Bonnet, it turned out, had not only lost his crew but had no skill for sailing. Edward had saved his ship from being commandeered by the English but to all intents and purposes he commandeered it himself.

They had one thing in common, at least, as they were both heading for Havana. Bonnet's ship was fast and he was talkative but good company, so they sailed together in what was a mutually beneficial partnership — for the time being at least. As Edward steered he asked Bonnet about himself.

What he found was a rich but fretful man, evidently attracted to more, shall we say, questionable ways of making even more money. For one thing, he constantly asked about pirates.

“Most hunt the Windward Passage between Cuba and Hispaniola,” Edward told him, suppressing a smile.

( I shouldn't worry about being waylaid by pirates... )

[[ taken from Black Flag and its novelization. ]]

S	M	T	W	T	F	S
				1	2	3
4	5	6	7	8	9	10
11	12	13	14	15	16	17
18	19	20	21	22	23	24
25	26	27	28	29	30	31

Fights Like The Devil, Dressed As A Man

We're pirates, Kidd, we take as we please and become who we like

Entries tagged with where: havana

Havana, Cuba, June 1715

Havana, Cuba, June 1715

Havana, Cuba, June 1715

Havana, Cuba, June 1715

Profile

July 2021

Syndicate

Most Popular Tags

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags