Up on deck, Arthur had reappeared with the slow match, wick already burning and the crew throwing their hands up and cheering. "Yes." He said to himself, "Boat burning, such a wonderful experience."

Alfred also appeared from below deck after Arthur, rubbing the side of his head as if he just got hit. Whoever it was that hit him must've found that huge frying pan they stole from their latest town raid. Or maybe he walked into a wall and knocked himself out. He didn't know - he was too focused on trying to find Matthew again to even realize what he was doing.

The crew quickly bunched around the captain, cheering and laughing while marching towards the boat, a few chanting "Burn it! Burn it! Burn it!"

The volume of Arthur's laugh silenced them all, holding the slow match above his head before speaking, "Well, boys! Looks like we have another fine work of art to destroy! This useless piece of beauty! My ship is worth so much more, right?"

The crew hooted in agreement.

"Sad that our newest members won't be enjoying this show, but they'll definitely be watching the next time we run into a situation like this!" he waved his arms around, "A burning boat, beautiful!" he finished with tears in his eyes.

As he turned around to face the gunpowder, the cheering faded away into silence, Arthur paused his motion to light the gunpowder to – inconspicuously – try to wipe his eyes.

"You'll be a great man, Arthur, just like me."

Taking a deep breath to collect himself, Arthur put the tip of the slow match against the pile of gunpowder before, quickly, running backwards across the plank. "Get some space in between the ships!"


"I was heading to Italy on Gilbert's ship because I had some business I needed to do there." Elizabeta closed a drawer that she had been rummaging through. "Someone told me that there was this painting that could sell for an unspeakable price in England, I was going to steal it and make a profit."

Francine blinked at the other, "What happened to settling down on a farm and making a living that way?"

"I just couldn't sit still, y'know?" Elizabeta opened a cabinet, "I met a man and we settled down to farm, but I only lasted a month. Cleaning and cooking, it was just like staying in England! So I ran away one night and soon I was sneaking onto ships and sailing everywhere." She took an apple from the cabinet, biting into it before continuing to look around. "The pursuit of riches has consumed me. I want more, I need more."

"Hmm," Francine shrugged, "I should've suspected it, seeing as how you were always taking things behind people's backs."

Elizabeta scoffed, "I told you my grandmother was a thief, right?"

"Yes, yes you have."

"Therefore my excuse is that it runs in the family."

"Your parents never stole anything?"

"It…skips generations."

"Oh, I'm sure it does."

"Ahem, so, I think that Arthur's going to head north, having heard Tino talk to him." Elizabeta threw the apple core over her shoulder, where it rolled over some maps on a desk and onto the floor.

"North?" Francine questioned, "You mean where all of those Scandinavians are?"

"There not that bad," Elizabeta replied, "Great place to steal from people."

Francine only replied with an exasperated sigh.


"Is Francine still with that Jerk Arthur?"

"Yes, sadly."

"Aw, that's sad." Peter looked at the floorboards, shuffling his feet against them.

Lovino sat in a corner, slowly indulging in a tomato while falling asleep at the same time. Tino sat on the cot, drawing a layout of a toy in his head.

Matthew enjoyed the silence; it was great to have after all the shouting and cruel laughing of pirates. Also, it let him focus more on what he wanted to think about – was Mama worried sick by now? Would Papa kill them if they returned? It wasn't their fault they were kidnapped – okay, maybe it was, people who tend to roam around areas of town where they're not allowed usually ends in bad things happening. But what did he do to deserve being stuck on this ship? What did the others do to have the same fate? Especially Peter, he was too young to be dealing with this and without a mother to watch him. Tino seemed to be filling in, though, occasionally breaking his thoughts to ask Peter a question about some toy he wanted or to comfort him in a small way.

The sudden sounds of loud cheering killed the silence's comfort; Matthew grimaced at the sounds – cheering about a boat being burned in the middle of the ocean.

He didn't want to think about it, but he could smell the wood burning and hear it crackling as if he were right next to it.

It was a sickening feeling.


"You'll be a great man, Arthur, just like me. You'll lead an army just as well as I did, you will bring victory to your people!"

The remnants of the boat were getting smaller and smaller, Arthur absent mindedly watching as a tear ran down the left side of his face.

"Arthur, I'm sad to inform you about your father…"

A burning boat was just that beautiful, the sight of fire hugging the wood and stripping it of paint, eating the cloth of the sails, throwing things it hated into the water.

"They found his boat, Arthur, and it won't be long before they find us…"

And if there had been any body still on board, hopefully they'd rest in peace, even though they died at sea.

"Fine, I'll show them that they can't catch every single one!"

With that, Arthur turned around and began walking towards his room, ignoring the crew congratulating him on his latest victory.


** So, I felt it was about time to update this. Yes, chapter is irrelevant, but who cares? Well, maybe some of you do…

Anyway. I haven't been able to type due to homework, school, family, and being tired afterschool. You try walking ten miles up a hill every other day, with fifty pounds of papers and three pounds of laptop on your shoulder!

Also, slow and steady gets pasta.

I've also seen a couple of stories that have stolen my idea, but they changed it a little. (What I mean is, France is Francine, kidnapped by Arthur, Francine doesn't want to be where she is, doesn't want to be with Arthur, bla bla bla) but I don't feel like doing anything, nor do I really care at this point. This story has enough alerts on it to where someone might see what I'm talking about.

Call me sick, call me insane, call me anything you want, just don't call me crazy, because I'm Crazee Canadia.

And I got a cramp in my leg. Ow :'(