Recruitment Fair (Part 2)
The bar was crowded, people jostling to keep both their position and the attention of the barkeeps for more than a few seconds. At the far end of the bar, a young girl sat on a stool. She twirled the paper umbrella from her drink between her fingers, her other hand holding up her chin as she surveyed the room.
She was perfectly aware she was attracting the attention of most of the tavern’s patrons. The group of young recruits further down the bar, in particular, were watching her intently, entranced by the pale skin that lined the red silk of her tightly laced bodice, the dark hair that slid over her shoulders as she tilted her head. She gave them a small smile, invitation enough for the bravest of the pack to break away and come towards her.
“Hi there,” the taller of the two said, flashing her a charming smile. “I’m Nathaniel, and my friend here is Charles. What do they call you, gorgeous?”
“Yeah, that usually,” the girl teased. She was turned away from them, her legs crossed under the bar, and spared them only a glance over her shoulder.
“You’re from Doriam?” Nathaniel asked, noticing her accent. The girl shrugged one shoulder, giving him a small smile around her straw.
“So, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” the other boy, Charles, leant against the bar beside her.
The girl laughed suddenly, spinning on her stool to face them and tossing back her hair.
“Are you kidding?” She leant forward, smiling conspiratorially. “This is the highlight of my year. What’s more thrilling than terrifying pirates in a dank old tavern? No offence,” she threw over her shoulder to the bartender, who only shrugged as if to say that he couldn’t agree more. Turning back to her audience, she gave them an appraising look. “Are you pirates?”
The two recruits exchanged a look, grinning and pulling themselves up to stand even taller.
“We will be after tonight,” Charles said, and she was sure he was puffing out his chest. “The only question is which ship we’ll choose, you know? I mean, we’re getting offers from the best crews, so it’s going to be a tough choice.”
“The best crews?” The girl asked curiously. “Which ones are those?”
Nathaniel pulled up a stool of his own, positioning himself close enough to the girl that their knees touched and leaning towards her.
“Easy,” he shrugged. “The Royal and the Youngblood. See, the Youngblood is notorious; the crew goes on all sorts of crazy, impossible voyages. People call them the most terrifying to ever sail these seas.”
The girl’s dark eyebrows rose, making him nod solemnly.
“The ship is captained by these brothers; Dylan and Gideon Young. Nasty bastards if there ever were. They’re completely ruthless.”
“Rumours say,” Charles cut in, “That they only recruit teenagers, because they know there’s a chance their whole crew will cark it, and they think kids will be more replaceable.”
“Well yeah,” Nathaniel said animatedly. “That’s the best thing about them, right? Everything anyone knows about them is just rumour. They’re recluses. Nobody’s actually met them.”
“Nobody?” the girl asked sceptically.
“Their first mate,” Charles jerked his head towards one of the tables lining the tavern’s walls, where a teenage boy sat twirling a quill between his fingers. “They say he’s the only one they’ll talk to. Even when the ship’s at sea, they stay in their cabin and refuse to be disturbed. But the one thing anyone knows for sure is that they burn through crews faster than any other ship.”
“And you still want to join?”
“Well, what about that other ship,” she said casually, changing the subject. “The Royal, wasn’t it? What’s so special about that one?”
Nathaniel and Charles spun sharply to face the teenager that sat on the stool just behind them, a half-empty pint dangling loosely from two of his fingers. He grinned lazily at them, ignoring the scowl etched across Nathaniel’s face.
“The Royal is a joke,” the boy repeated with a shrug. Tendrils of black hair had escaped the strip of red leather he’d tied around his half-hearted ponytail, falling into his face. He blew them away and downed the rest of his drink before he continued. “I mean, sure, they might be the richest crew here, but they make up for it by also being the biggest bunch of royalist piss babies to pollute the seas. But, then again, I guess if money is what you’re in it for, that’s probably a fair trade.”
“Getting rich is the whole point of this business,” Charles said scathingly, inching further away from where the boy sat.
“Is that it?” the dark hair boy laughed lightly. “And here I thought it was about adventure; the experience, you know. I’ll have to let the crew know we’ve been doing it wrong.”
“You’re in a crew?” Nathaniel said, looking the boy over pointedly. “What? Someone was actually desperate enough to recruit somebody like you?”
Had they not had their backs to her, they might have seen the girl’s hand bunch tightly in the fabric of her skirt, seen her lips set into a tight line.
“You know, for someone so set on getting the golden ticket here,” she observed, making them turn back to face her. Although ice crept into her tone, she was the picture of cheerfulness. “You’re spending a lot of time over here. Shouldn’t you be getting along, schmoozing up to the captains or something?”
The boy snorted with laughter, pressing his hand to his mouth. Sensing the hint, Nathaniel pulled back in surprise. The girl just smiled up at him, swirling the rest of her drink.
“You’re right,” Nathaniel shrugged, composure regained. He looked back to the boy, contempt spelled clearly on his face. “We can’t all be so lucky as to already be part of a crew, can we?”
“Good luck,” the girl called after the recruits as they walked off, grinning at the boy as he shook his head in amusement.
They watched the recruits go, following their progress as they moved through the crowd. The boy turned back to the bar with a sigh, eyeing his empty glass.
“Hey, bar guy,” he called out. The bartender looked up, throwing a rag over his shoulder and coming towards them. “Can I get another drink?”
“Can I get some ID?” the barkeep asked. He was young himself, his tanned, youthful face framed by thick, light hair. He pulled the boy’s glass towards him, tucking it under his right arm before picking up the girl’s with the same hand. His left arm stayed by his side the whole time, drawing the girl’s attention down its length to his wrist, where it tapered off into a smooth stump.
“Ah, sorry mate,” the boy patted down his pockets, shrugging, “Other pants, you know?”
The boy only smiled, and the bartender scoffed, turning away from them.
“Oh come on,” the boy slapped his palm against the bar top. “This place is literally crawling with pirates, and you’ve chosen to crusade against underage drinking? What has the world come to?”
“Give it a rest, West,” the girl sighed, moving over to the seat beside the boy. “I think you’ve had enough.”
West looked as though the suggestion genuinely offended him.
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