Kinsley sits at the desk in his spacious but cramped office. Standing before him is a decently-dressed man, who is clearly a few income levels below Kinsley. He is wearing a governmental attire, though it is not much to be impressed by, especially contrasted with the costly esteem of Kinsley's office. He has a thin wood board in his grasp, with several papers resting precariously upon it, held down only by the man's left hand, his other hand tightly gripping a quill.
"And where was this person last seen?" The man asks.
"About forty miles off the western coast. I don't have the exact coordinates." Kinsley replies, wringing his hands together slightly to preoccupy himself.
"Any defining features he can be identified with?" The man scrawls on the paper before him as he asks his next question.
Kinsley reaches into the pocket of his elegant jacket, drawing out a folded piece of paper. He extends it out to the man, who sets his wooden board down to receive it. He unfolds it, revealing a detailed drawing of the Archman, done with preliminary sketches and traced over carefully with ink. There is evidently much effort placed into the drawing.
"Ah...that helps." The man nods, not expecting such an exact characterization. "What did you say his name was, again?"
"The Archman. He has no real name." Kinsley's features tense as he speaks the Archman's title.
"Oh...pardon?" The man says with a perplexed tone.
"The Archman? I'm sure you've heard the fables."
"Yes, I have, but..." The man looks back and forth between Kinsley and the drawing of the Archman, as if the clarity he seeks exists in either place. "Forgive my asking, Commodore, but this isn't some kind of wild goose chase, is it?"
Kinsley glares at the man with an expression that is quickly approaching a livid quality. "I met him myself. We crossed blades. Do you mean to call me a liar?"
The man's posture tightens, along with his grip on his quill. "Certainly not, sir...my apologies." The man folds and pockets the drawing and picks his wooden board back up, hoping to quickly change the subject.
"And how much for his capture?"
"Three thousand pounds. Twice that if they bring him in alive."
The man makes some quick scrawls on the papers before him, sacrificing legibility for speed, as he's eager to have the interaction with Kinsley over with. He wipes the tip of the quill off on a handkerchief dedicated to that specific purpose, pocketing the two implements and making a prompt exit.
"We'll write to you when the order goes through." He says with a small bow, turning and walking away in the same motion. As the man exits through the heavy office doors, he crosses paths with Normond, who is moving at a similarly hurried pace.
Normand pushes past the man as though he is one of the doors obstructing his course, walking briskly into the office and trekking right up to Kinsley.
"Commodore! Sir! I heard what happened!" Normand removes his hat respectfully as he approaches the large desk. "Are you alright?!"
"Been better, frankly." Kinsley stands up from his desk in a brusque manner. "I very nearly had him. He just barely slipped my grasp."
"He certainly seems to be the elusive type." Normand nods in accord. He suddenly remembers a concern which he'd set aside previously. "And what of Miss Pryce?"
Kinsley pauses for an extended moment, his face very slowly morphing into a bitter sneer.
"I believe she's alive...but she's being held hostage by that wretch." Kinsley decides to omit certain details about how the conflict ended.
YOU ARE READING
The Archman
RomanceWhile departing for London to meet with her fiancé, Eira Pryce finds herself taken captive by a living legend, the fabled pirate known only as the Archman. As it turns out, the fables may not have been so accurate in their portrayal of this mythic f...
