“Once I heard him speak, I had to force myself to remove myself from his magic, if only for a moment, to retrieve my pen and my book to record every word uttered from his mouth.” - Salomon Lappi

The Tale of the Mysterious Piper.

One evening by the Hearth a traveler had rested his soul at ease in a comfortable chair. The crowd carried on like it usually does in the late hour, talking among themselves with whispers and bravado alike. It was at this moment the beautiful sound of a wooden flute filled the room, gradually bringing all to a still silence.

The eyes of the men and women stared at the lone figure by the roaring fire, carrying away every ear to an unknown world that could not be conveyed in words, even still to call it sound would belittle such an event, and yet even still to call it music, no it was something more! It evoked the human spirit to the inner core of itself. The hardest of men appeared lost in their own eyes as they could not look away, and the women filled with vanity were removed from themselves and questioned something they could not even understand.

The guilty felt uneasy, and the innocent drew from themselves an inner peace they had not felt in their most recent memories. Then, as all things come to an end, so did the stranger’s performance. The Patrons quietly turned to one another as he had placed his wooden flute back in its case. He did not ask for so much as a drink as he walked towards the door.

The crowd became confused, and inwardly distraught to see him suddenly leave. The lot of them felt like children whose parents leave and know not if they would return. Their baffled nature served only to squelch them as he at last left the Hearthside, never to return.

Note:

I was not present for the telling of one of Oliver’s Stories the other night. However, I figured the best I can do is question a few people who were there. I considered asking Oliver to recall, but there is a damning magic in the moment when he speaks. I fear to ask him to tell it again, it simply could not be the same!

I must get to work!

I happened to get a hold of the Stock Boy Julien, who was present when the story was told. For often being a serious soul, he was quite excited by the tale and fortunately happy to tell it twice.

“A Sailor had come in yesterday, who said he was shipwrecked. I believe he floated down the Seine. He looked pale as if he had seen a ghost. Apparently, his ship was attacked by The Pirate Silverbeard. They say that Silverbeard harnesses the power of Poseidon the four winds, which I assume must be currents. He uses this power to rip ships to pieces!”

“I think Oliver used to be a Gearsmith and as a result once upon a time he himself wasn’t attacked by Silverbeard when he sailed the Oceans. I think it could very well mean that Silverbeard could be a Gearsmith too!”

“Say, you don’t think that Gearsmiths don’t have the power to control the tides, do you? Or have any other mysterious powers? They say they have secrets; you don’t suppose that they can control the tides, do you?”

With a simple strike of a match, I lit Flora’s cigarette and beckoned her company so that I could hear her version of the events from the previous night. What was Oliver’s Tale?

“Why, thank you darling! Oh, the story about the Pirate?”

“I hear he’s a dashing fellow, older, but who isn’t now days?”

“It seems apparent that this Silverbeard is quite wealthy as he has an Armada of Ships at his command. Especially designed ones too! What that poor sailor that came in?! He was no doubt caught in a tempest and was confused. What he saw was probably a rescue party. From what I saw he had a blow to his head; he no doubt dreamed a good portion of it. Silverbeard. . . I’ll bet he’s a handsome fellow, experienced with his hands no doubt. . . You know what they say about sailors’ hands, not to mention one who Commands. . .”

I joined Antonie at the bar and inquired about the Story Oliver told. I was excited to hear how he was there to experience it as he was perhaps the best soul to convey what was told save for myself. I promised to buy him a drink of his choice after he was done sharing what he knew. . .

“Oh, I’m sorry you missed the tale my boy, an awful thing to miss. When Oliver speaks it is like an event, not unlike some anomaly of nature! It is best experienced more so than conveyed, however I will be delighted to try.”

“A Sailor drifted in around this time last night. He was experienced, I could tell by the tone of his skin, like leather from the sun. That’s how you know the experience of a true seaman. His hands, also coarse like the ropes he snares with his hands to protect the life of his own!”

“Though he sat down for a drink I watched him nurse it, so I could tell he was not prone to spirits, so I judged him then trice that he no doubt meant what he had said and was by no means a lush.”

“He honestly believed he was attacked by the last Pirate of the Seven Seas, Silverbeard. It seems apparent that Silverbeard flanked his ship, and with some power or another managed to rip it to shreds. I can’t imagine such technology existing! However, I appreciate a good story my boy, but magic can’t be real, though my inner child would curse me for saying so, and so it must have been some force of man that sank his ship.”

“As to why?”

“Hard to say, Pirates put their men at risk just as well. No attack isn’t done without careful consideration. Someone as old as Silverbeard couldn’t command to well by force, you see. A man like him has no doubt has more pull with influence than a whip.”

“I’m willing to wager that the Sailors Captain must have been hiding something that Silverbeard wanted. Less likely, though still likely is the thought that it could have been a case of mistaken identity, as it was night. However, attacks at night are as frightening as they are unheard of!”

“What of the Gearmiths you ask?”

“I cannot say. . . From what I recall Oliver said that he encountered a flank of ships years ago matching the description of SIlverbeards Quartet. He also said he raised a flag contrary to the Gearsmiths symbol, a large red X over it. I imagine it was less of an allegiance idea and perhaps more of a…. These people are crazy enough to despise a peaceable faction, so we best avoid them! That’s what Silverbeard was thinking, assuming it was even him so long ago.”

Note:

I can’t help but to feel disappointed, though I’ve collected different accounts of what had occurred, all of them vary and are different. It’s like the breaking of a fine jewel, and everyone taking a piece for themselves, yet the piece itself is lost forever. Perhaps I can write what I’ve documented into a more cohesive story in the future.