And the Meek Shall Walk

2: The Captain and the Prince

On board the ship, Captain Rick Edgeson, a man who was as happy swabbing a deck as he was standing at the helm and would often be found standing shoulder to shoulder with his men, was in his cabin. He was sitting in a massive leather chair, an intricately designed depiction of his family coat of arms woven into the back. The chair was the only sign he was a prince and not simply an ordinary man. When at sea, Rick hated to be bowed down to. His royal birthright was left at the quayside and he was either Captain or Cap'n, but never Your Highness. He'd confined the last man who called him such to the brig for the duration of the journey, with a warning that, next time, the man would be cast adrift on a raft with only dry biscuits to eat and his piss to drink.

Needless to say, no-one forgot and everyone remembered. Not many believed Rick really would actually follow through with his threat. He was too nice. Too fair. None wanted to test him, however. The stories of his previous endeavours, battling sea monsters and surviving terrible storms, were often whispered about below decks in the still of the night when the anchor was dropped and all that could be heard was the creak of the hull as it swayed slightly on the wave of the ocean.

The prince wore the teeth of a mighty shark around his neck. The creature had terrorised his crew a few years before, and was easily half the length of the ship. Rick had lost three crewmen over the course of a week before diving into the waters, a dagger between his teeth. All those aboard were sure he was lost as the seconds ticked by. When the waters turned red with blood, some even fainted, not only due to the sight of the crimson fluid, but also with the thought that their captain - their PRINCE - was dead.

Then he erupted from the ocean, a ragged tear to his side and a handful of teeth in his hand. The wound healed and the teeth were fashioned into a necklace, one he rarely removed. He wanted to be reminded (and have everyone around him reminded) of how fine the line between life and death was. In those moments beneath the waves, in battle with the shark, his side being bitten into and his lungs bursting, the captain was faced with his own mortality. He was very nearly killed and his men would have been powerless to help him. He dived in as an act of pride and bravado. He was the Captain, and a prince too. He couldn't let anyone or anything taunt him or show him to be weak.

It wasn't until he had driven his dagger into the eye of the beast and then stabbed it into the body, just below the dorsal fin that he realised his pride could have lead him to his demise. He was not ready to die. Prince Edgeson had a kingdom to rule, once he ascended to the throne, and a queen to find. A shark could have easily brought such aspirations to an untimely ruin.

Sitting in his cabin, settled into his throne, for, though he'd deny the fact, it was much closer to the royal seat than a captain's chair, he closed his eyes. He was tiring of this life on board a ship. His sea legs were becoming heavy and he longed for a life in the palace. He was never shy of work, but his love of the ocean was drowning, leaving a dry, salty aftertaste. At the palace, he could take on some of the king's duties. His father seemed to be aging by the day. His memory was failing and his health was racing it to the grave. He refused, though, to give in to the effects of time on his body. He had been king for most of his life, his own father being taken from him when he was only a boy by a strange creature from the sea. Being made ruler so young had been a burden but, once he was able, he'd hunted down and slayed the beast.

Rick had never been told what, exactly, the creature had been. His father had denied requests from the prince to reveal the details of how his grandfather had died and had grown angry when pushed. This had been, in part, the reason why he'd gone to sea himself. He wanted to be attacked. He wanted to be a target and to cross paths with whatever it was that had killed his grandfather.

Though many sea monsters had died at his hand, he was sure none where the guilty species. Now, he was tired of hunting. He wanted to take up the sceptre of royalty and brandish it in the tradition of his forefathers - with honour.