memoir of a forgotten pirate

VII

"You're the girl, huh? They've got a name for you."

Zhiyu Moke was that friend of a friend that Tianyi knew. As a weaponsmith, she made her living making weapons for buyers in port cities.

"What?" I asked.

"Princess of the Pirate King," Moke said. She rummaged behind the front desk of her shop and unfurled a small poster. "Guards have been handing these out." She lifted it up, shoving it towards me. My blood ran cold. My face was plastered on the poster– or something approaching a crude rendition of my face at the very least. A hefty amount of gold was labeled under it– wanted dead or alive.

"Fuck," I blurted out.

"Fuck is right," Moke said grimly. "I'm risking a lot, taking you in. So you can't cause trouble, you hear me? I won't have you compromising my business."

"No, ma'am," I said. "No trouble from me."

"You... don't need to call me ma'am," Moke said with some disgust in her voice. "Heaven knows I'm doing this because I owe Tianyi a favor. Come on, let's put you to work."

She showed me around her forge, and I ran my hands over each surface loved and worn over time. The place seemed almost to whisper of its stories, of a woman who had dedicated her life to this craft.

"You owe Tianyi a favor?" I asked uneasily.

"Ah yes," Moke said. "I needed help finding a specific type of client. The Viking kind."

"Viking?" I asked. "But— they're an old wives' tale. They don't really exist."

"Ah, but they do. They'll come in a couple of weeks— standard maintenance on their weapons and such. Tianyi introduced me to them," Moke said as she lifted a pair of tongs, adjusting her grip. "Poor girl. I can't say no to her— it's why I even agreed to take you in in the first place."

She seemed almost melancholy, her voice full of a strange sympathy.

"I almost didn't make it," I admitted. "That man— Sarovar, could have killed me."

"That boy?" Moke said, her voice still full of that pity. "Oh, no. I don't believe for a second he would have actually killed you. Poor things— he and Tianyi have suffered for so long..." She lifted a piece of burning hot metal from the bellows of her forge.

"Huh?" I asked. I remembered Tianyi's carefree nature— how something dark seemed to hide behind it. I hadn't seen much of her, not even when I cashed in her favor— but I wouldn't lie and say it didn't intrigue me.

"Their mentor was killed by the Pirate King," Moke clarified. "Sarovar chose vengeance. Tianyi— Tianyi mourns in her own way, I'm sure, but she didn't tell me much after that. Sarovar tried to kill me too— tried to reason with himself that I somehow provided weapons to the Pirate King— a whole lot of horseshit that I quite honestly didn't give a fuck about. But he didn't kill me."

"I had no idea," I said.

Well, of course, I didn't. I wasn't supposed to. But even now, it makes me question Tianyi's motives. She called me her friend— and she's continued to do so much for me. But the Pirate King— and by extension, me, in some sense or another— was responsible for the death of her mentor. There was every reason to kill me. To take revenge— get comeuppance.

So why didn't she?

What had I done to deserve any of this?

I try not to dwell on it.

Not everyone is given a second chance— or hell, in my case, maybe it was a third chance, if you count the fact I should have died the day my parents did. Learning the forge was difficult, but Moke was a strict and strong teacher who made sure I learned everything thoroughly.

And then, a couple of weeks later, the Vikings came.

Mathias was a bright light.

I remember the Vikings came in the early dawn, and I had gotten up blearily at the sound of talking in the shop.

"Moke, you shouldn't have," a bright and boisterous voice said. "This is so beautiful."

"You are my most well-paying customers," Moke replied with some snark in her voice.

"And most notorious, no doubt," a more monotone voice responded. "The most wanted."

"Nonsense," Moke said. "Or, well, yes— but it's quite honestly not every day that you get Vikings as your clientele."

I peeked my head out from the back of the shop, feeling suddenly shy.

Five men stood around Moke, chatting with her casually. The tallest of them was observing one of the swords I had made, resting his gloved hand against the blade.

"New," he said. "Not yours?" He raised an eyebrow at Moke.

"Sharp as ever, Berwald," Moke said. "I've an apprentice now."

"Apprentice?" A boy with blue eyes, who I came to know as Tino, asked curiously. "Could've sworn that last time we were here, you said you would never take an apprentice. Too much work, you said. What's got you with this one?"

"Let's just say I owe someone a favor. Mo, come over here," Moke said sharply, waving her hand towards me. "Don't think that I didn't see you hiding there. Come meet our customers."

I sighed, stepping out into the shop properly.

The man I've come to know as Mathias shook my hand enthusiastically, a big smile on his face.

"Hello! I'm Mathias. That tall guy's Berwald. This is Tino, Emil, and that's Lukas. A pleasure to meet you! I'm sure we're going to be great friends," he said, words slurring together because of how fast he was speaking. It was almost endearing.

I shook his hand nervously, a hesitant laugh leaving my lips.

"I'm... Mo?" I said. "Nice, to... uh, meet you, I guess." I bowed my head.

"You're scaring her, Mathias," Lukas said placidly. "You're coming on too strong."

"Oh, am I?" Mathias turned to me, his gaze frantic. "I'm so, so sorry—"

"N-no, no, it's fine," I said, more apprehensive than ever now. "You're... you're fine."

Mathias seemed to deflate with an almost cartoonish energy, and he laughed in relief.

"That's good. I wouldn't want to scare off a new friend."